The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1892-11-25

cious Jelly, preserves of every kind and
cakes; In fact, all the prodigal profusion
Of a country Thanksgiving dinner. To
John the browning glory was goodly ar
ray of pumpkin pies which graced the
sideboard.' Ruth, with two of her young
friends, waited on them all, handing the
coffee, heapiRg the plates and cutting the
pie. This last operation John watched
with interest, for pumpkin pie cannot be
cut properly by careless hand. Ruth cut
it with two quick strokes, leaving a clean
edge of delicious custard and an unbroken
crust.
After the repast John, whose reserve
had thawed under the influence of the
good things of which he had partaken,
said to Mrs. Gray: "You must let me
thank you for that delicious pumpkin
pie. 1t was as good as my mothers, and
that is the highest praise could bestow."
Mrs. Gray looked pleased and said: "I'm
| glad you liked it. Ruth made it.; she was
up at 5 o'clock, so as to have them fresh.
She says if there is anything detestable it
Is pumpkin pie with crust soaked till it
Is soggy."
The older folks had assembled in the
parlor, but the younger people who had
eaten remained in the dining room for the
| John soon discovered and thought he
would like to try. He found his way back,
and was soon busy filling the plate OF
Ruth, whom he had elected to serve, SO
full that she laughed and said, "Mr. Gill
more, you must have great opinion of
my powers of digestion" He looked lit
tie leased as he contemplated the pyramid
he had just constructed took the vacant
seat at her side and said to her: II thought
| you might have an appetite. Making pies
at 6 o'clock in the morning Is hungry
| work."
"Did mother tell you that2" she asked.
| mo, asked her-in manner"
81 had my breakfast afterward," said
Ruth, "but you may bring me piece Of
pie now, if you please"
| He went to the sideboard to do her bid
| ding. AS ill luck would have it there was
none cut, so he took the knife in his un-
skillful hand and held fast to the plate,
! but not to the pie, which went slipping to
/ the floor. spatterir g him well in it's descent.
Ruth, who had been watching him, saw
| the mshap, which none of the others had
noticed, came quickly to the rescue and
soon had the pie deftly cleaned up and in
the kitchen, where she INDUCED in the
laugh which her politeness and sympathy
for his discontinue forbade, and no one
| the wiser
"You may be a good lawyer, but you are
n poor butler" remarked Ruth.
The rest OF the afternoon was spent in
walking about the fields and eating nuts
around the fire.
But the best part of the day was the
evening, for it was the custom of these
good people to stay till 10 o'clock. The
nla
old and young, played games-"Puss in
the Corner" Blind Mans Buff" and such
| like. Ruth was blindfolded. Such scam
pering and giggling, as she dashed wildly
around the rOoml With arms uplifted she
brought them down on the shoulders of
John, who, to tell the truth, made no great
effort to escape With one hand she clasped
his neck affectionately, while the other
slid down his nose till it struck his mus
| tache. This settled the question Of his
/ identity, as he was the only person present
so adorned. With her hand still uncon-
sciously about his neck she took the band
age off her eyes, while he, with an audaci-
ty new to him, said softly, "a delightful
situation-if it could only last longer"
Ruth, becoming conscious of it, blushed
| brightly and Withdrew her hand.
''TUrn around; you are caught; have to
be it," quoth Ruth.
eyes, and by you," he softly answered,
as he turned to have the handkerchief
bound over his eyes, enjoying the sensation
of making pretty girl blush and his own
! newly acquired boldness.
The next day. as in duty bound, John
called on his late hostess, found Euth at
home and persuaded her to walk with him
through the lea1ess woods, which, to a
|
urabe rs in their early leafing. He showed
her where he had played in his boyhood,
told her of his childish pranks and some
thing of his present mode of life. In the
interchange of condolences she told him
that she taught in the little white school
house at the forks of the jacksonville
road; of her experiences at normal school,
and Of her home life. In that one short
afternoon they learned more of each others
tastes and habits than they could have
done in dozen casual meetings.
On their return John had obtained
Ruth's promise togo with him to the old
red bridge, the scene of many a former
/ fishing bout.
On Sunday John dutifully went to
! church, where he saw Ruth in the choir
and, as it sat just back of the preacher, he
| got great credit for paying strict attention
to the sermon. At the close he walked
with her through the meadow, and, on
parting at her own door, thus addressed
| her:
"Who would think we met for the first
time only three days agop 1t seems to me
have known you year"
"And you," rejoined Ruth, holding out
her hand in parting. "As you'll not come
in-goodby."
If kissing hands had not been so long
obsolete that hand would have received q
goodly number, but John contented him
self with squeeze, painful to Ruth, but
borne heroically.
That night, as the midnight train whistlcd
at the station, one sweet country maiden
said to herself, III wonder if / will ever Zee
him again." And then, having formed this
good habit, fell soundly asleep among Der
pillows. And John the long night through
made plans to see her again, till the train
drew into the station at Chicago and bust
ness replaced sentiment.
A few days later Ruth received by mail
letter and small package. The package
proved to be a book; the letter, an apology
for sending the former John wrote: 81
| eaxu fbie litt1a hoolr apd tho roa,,, ora