The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1894-08-08
ULRICA,
"Ulricn Ulrica amt it time to put
tha kcttlo onon

the Kettle onP"
Old Mrs. Hopwood, in her wheeled
chair by the window, was Watching
the clock, with now and then glance
Mt the yellow line of sunshine that
crept along the floor, while her knit
ting lay idly in her lap.
Ulrca paid no attention to her
words. blt walked straight to the lit
tie looking glass that hung above the
cherry table, and stared intently into
its depths.
"Granny," she burst out, "why am
/ different from other girls?"
"Chiid, what on earth do you
menn?"
Ulrica shook the tawny locks from
her sun.burned forehead, and flashed
the great inquiring eyes into her
grandmother's face.
81 don't know" said she, "but
when go into the village every one
looks at me. Kate Linley calls me
that wild gipsy, and just now, when
was picking dandelion greens along
the road, chanced to look up, and
there WAS that artist from Philadel-
phia coolly sketching ne. please
stsnl sill for just another minute
said he, exactly as if was stick or
stone"
"And what did You say?"
"Just nothing at ALL came flying
into the house, and left him standing
by the gate"
cts because we're poor, child"
Gail Mrs. Hopwood, sorrowfully.
Once more the long, blue-gray eyes
flashed.
els it crime to be poorp"
"Well--no but don't you see, VI.
rica, that you can't dress like Miss
Lin!ey, or go to boarding-sc like
DIR. Mason's daughter?"
"But why?" persisted Ulrica, pac-
ing mp and down the room like a
young lioness. "Why are we poor?"
"Well. your grandfather wasn't no
manager, crooned the old dame. "He
was always lendin' money to help
other people, and he never seemed to
get it back ag'in, and your father
hadn't no faculty. The Hopwoods III
ways was unlucky, and when he hurt
his hand in Milo Stevenses stoneyard
and couldn't work no more, every
thing went to rack and ruin. Why,
child, what be You a-cryin' for?"
az -don't-know!" sobbed poor
Ulrica. 81 wish was like other folks.
I'm tired of wearing old faded gowns
and shoes all burst out at the side.
I'm tired of people calling me that
graveyard grill
And she glanced vindictively out at
the white gravestones and gray mar
ble shafts on the hillside opposite the
window.
Don't talk SO foolishly, child"
said Mrs. Hopwood, picking up the
dropped stitches in her knitting work.
eve get our rent that way, looking
after the cemetery gates and keeping
the grass cut And it's very nice
little house. You allays used to like
to play in the graveyard"
'That was when was little girl"
said Ulrica- 81 didn't know any bet
ter then"
run and shut the gate," said Mrs.
Hopwood. There's Mr.. Smiths red
COW comm down the road. Them
COWS is always so greedy arter the
high, thick grass. And there's the
tulip bulbs Widow Graw wanted plant
ed in her lott"
'Let her plant them herself" said
Ulrica, Strengthening her slim figure
and going diligently to work to get
the old woman's dinner,
Mrs Hopwood looked wistfully at
her Gs she knitted on. Yes, it was
quite true. She only wondered she
had not noticed it before. Ulrica was
unlike the other girls of Willowtield.
She was like disguised princess, or
one of the royal red roses that grew
80 rankly in the cemetery beyond.
But in spite of her rebellious words,
Ulrica did plant the Widow Graw's
tulip bulbs. 1t would not do to offend
the trustees OF the cemetery.