The record-union., 1893-09-16

Mary Fenton saw with pang that the
slender fingers which she ran through
/ the curly crop were growing pltlfully
| thin.
Kit had become very dear to her. She
could not bear to see the bright young
life merged into this dull sadness, and
she felt helpless. Kit would not believe
what was shortly coming. Every time
that Miss Fenton came with something
| tempting and the sick man refused it,
she would say, with ghost of the old
merry laugh, you've spoilt him, Miss
Mary, nothing's good enough now."
The gay tavern life went on. Mary
Fenton Joined in the drives and walks,
danced and moved on with the balance
of the summer guests, but her heart was
with Kit, uuder the pines.
"What do you see in that little curly
headed Oregon girl?" one OF the fisner-
men asked laughingly.
My better SELF" she answered, and
and passed on.
The weather was very sultry. The
jagged peaks of Castle Crags stood bare
| and gray against the deep blue sky. Not
sluggishiy, like oil. July had been
ushered in by north wind, and that al
ways means dry, enervating, Hfeiess
heat
The ladies lounged about the tavern
piazza in cool white muslin, with PALM
leaf fans and iced lemonades near at hand,
and growled vehementlY. The fishermen
wiped the perspiration from their fore
heads, assorted their flies. and each tried
to outvie the other in new fish stories.
Mary Fentou sat d little to one side,
overcome by the heat, and giving up the
idea of seeing Kit that day. Again her
book lay idly in her lap, and she sat
dreaming.
Coming up the road in the hot, dazzling
sun, Kit walked slowly through the dust,
| her hands clasped together and her eyes
staring intently down at the ground. She
walked so slowly she seemed hardly to
move.
"Miss Mary" She spoke in hollow
tones, without looking up. Miss Mary,
Pve come to tell you. BilPs gone-last
night Nothing but dull apathy in
her face, not sob to break the silence.
She stood full in the heat, broken, life
less figure.
Mary tenton started. II did not think
that it would be so soon, dear." She
went down the steps, close to the girl,
and took her hand. "Come out OF the
sun. Come"
Kit raised her eyes, depth Of sad re-
prOach in them. do you think would
| leave him now, Miss Mary? ?" She con-
Miss Fenton FASTENED to get her hat TO
accompany her. Don't come, Miss
Mary. l would rather you would not. l
must be alone, for this little while," she
faltered. "Mother lows we must get
along home day after tomorrow, and we
must leave him. l came TO you-to fix
| things"
Mary Fenton pressed her hand warmly
in hers in assurance of help.
1sIf Won WOnldn't nina. Miss Mary,
couldn't it be where he might see the
mountain? You know, | can see it at
home, and it would be something for US
to have together"
"Yes, dear child, l will do anything
for you"
Mary Fenton's eyes were brimming
over with tears, as she stood still in the
sunshine and watched the young figure,
/ bent with grief, disappear slowly among
the pines.
''Such devotion, such unseIfishness,
such bravery, is godlike," she murmured
to herself. ''She asked for nothing and
gave verything-poor child ~
Miss Fenton attended to Kits request,
and the day after Bill was laid at rest on
hillside, where the gleam OF Shasta
could always be seen.
! The next morning she went to the
camp and found Mrs. Jones busily pack
| ing up, more cheerful than usual. The
| tents were down, and Kit was lifting the
| heavy things with her strong young arms
and tying them into the wagon. She wore
the same old blouse and cigarette hat, but
all the buoyancy was gone from her face.
| She was very quiet as she called Miss
Fenton aside and united an old stocking.
II want to pay you for-everyth
"No, child, l can never repay you,
Kit"
! Kit gazed at her with look of dazed
| inquiry, then went on harnessing the old
raw boned horse and hitched him to the
wagon.
''It will be lighter drivin' home," Mrs.
Jones observed. as she tucked the last
blanket around the frying-pan.
| Mary Fenton never forgot the look of
mute agony that crept into Kits soft eyes
as she looked at her mother. The she
pulled her hat further down over her face
with the same old gesture. as she clamb-
cred into the high seat of the wagon and
| took the reins, while her mother got up
! beside her.
| "You will have a long, hot drive"
Miss Eenton said stupidity.
| ''Oh, we'll stop with folks over night
and it will be real pleasant Mrs. Jones
answered, tying her sun bonnet strings.
Mary Fenton climbed up on the wagon
wheel and kissed Kit warmly and whis-
pered, "I'll take some Shasta lilies to his
grave. will remember"
Then cracking of the long willow
switch that served for whip, the old
| horse started up and they were gone.
! Mary Fenton watched the bobbing of
| the short reddish curls amid the clouds of
dust until turn in the road hid them;
| then she sat down under pine, covered
her face with her hands, and cried.
! She sat there for some time. At last
she heard footstep cracking the dry
pine needles and looked up.
"Dick!' she exclaimed with a start,
and began, womanli<e, smoothing the
ruffied hair on her forehead.
| 81 thought you were never going to
write, so L came to YOU" He held out
his hand to her. 81 came on the morn
| ing train, missed you at the tavern, and
was told that you were over in this di-
rection, helping some proteges of yours.
| Crying! little womanw He caught sight
! of her tear-stained face, then taking it
| between both his hands, he said tenderly,
"Now, Mary, tell me, have you de-
cided?"
The answer came very family. Eyes,
Dick" Then half to herself she repeated
Kits lonely words, 'If folks have got
each other in this world, they've got all
that's wanted. Oh, Dick" she contin
ued, with the new enthusiasm shining in
her eyes, enthusiasm that she had always
voted bad form-"the noblest soul l ever
saw has gone from me to-day"
Mary Fenton's life was blessed by
Kits unconscious hand, and poor little
| Kit, far away on her Oregon land, toiled
! Loyalty, looking up at night at Shasta's
white peak, and praying that she might
soon fold her hands, and that she and
Bill could be happy together, somewhere
above the great white mountain.-Mary
| Willis Glascock in the Overland.
Using Live Geese as Decoys.
The manner of using live decoys may