The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-02-09
CHAPTER VII

Sister and l went to work at our
preparations with a will and were soon
ready.
One evening 1 joyfully put away my
needle, conscious of having taken the
last necessary stitch, and went out for
q walk. Lest | should see one of the
Summers at their door, I avoided the
road and went out by the kitchen way
ir+o a green lane that ran between
our place and the next plantatiCn-as
good a place to pace up and down in rs
any other. AS [ came to the melon
patch | paused and looked over the
fence. There was the spot where Mr..
Summers. in his pursuit Of me, had fall
len fiat. What q strange, weird mem
Dry it was! Why did I run? Why did
he run? 1t was so unlike him to do so.
Why-before | could ask myself anoth-
CT question the sound Of feet smote my
ear. l looked up. A gentleman with
a tail hat on. eyeglasses and a neat
gray vandyke beard was coming up the
lane at a great pace-Mr. Summers
himself and no other. Again terror Of
oil IlllCI lCh DOo0CSOCo Llt Again h
turned and ran. He ran after me.
The race was swift and rapid.
This time I did not double, but kept
straight on. Away went my hat, as
did John Gilpin's in his famous ride.
Had I worn a wig, it must have fol-
lowed. As it was, my great shell hair
pin came out, and my hair, of which ]
had a quantity, strealned down my
back. Still l kept on until, in ducking
under a low bough, I met with Absa-
lom's fate and was held fast by my
floating locks. To free myself was i'm
possible, and I perforce stood still. In
a moment more Mr.. Summers faced me.
His first speech was fendish.
Il never was SO glad Of anything in
my life, he said.
I scornfully regarded him in silence.
Miss Persis, " he went on, some
time ago I made you an offer of mar
rage, and you, without answering,
rushed away. Am L to understand that
you intend to accept or reject my offer?"
"Of course l reject it, l said fierce
ly. He breathed a great sigh, apparent
ly of relief.
'It was my duty to ask that" he
said. 81 should have held to my offer
if you had accepted it, of course, but
now I want to tell you that [ made it
under an utter misapprehension. In
fact, I mistook you for your sister. You
wore her red cloak, and I had left my
glasses at home-you know l am near
sighted. Until you turned | did not
know you, and then you would not let
me speak" Then he paused a moment
and began to ~untangle my hair. Dis
parity in years, great disparity, he
went on, as ne carefully freed my t~resses,
one at a time, sis an obstacle to happi-
ness in marriage-hold that piece of
hair, please. L regard you as a little
girl, an obstinate little girl, but your
half sister-catch that piece-lovely
Miss Victorine, I simply adore. You
take very little notice for your age if
you never saw that for yourself. There,
you are free, if you want to run away
again"
"Oh. Mr.. s1mmers!" I gasped. Il
have been such an idiot. I might have
known, 7 am so ashamed of myself!''
You have done me a great injury.
You have robbed my life Ct kc~rpiness,"
he said. Il suppose you told your story
to Miss Victorine? She turns from me
with scorn and evidently detests me.
She has strong feelings, Miss Persis. A
girl of your age and temperament can
not comprehend an attachment which
could conquer, as regards each other,
such strong sectional prejudices as were
ours"
Say anything, Mr.. Summers. Ide-
serve it., said, "but 1 have never told
Victorine anything, and I viii undo
the consequences Of my folly. I am
sure it will not be difficult"
"Ah. I am afraid it will" Mr.. Sum-
mers replied, turning ~dejectedly away.
AS for me, 1 fairly skipped home
again, feeling that after all I might hope
to make Victorine happy.
1 ran into the room where she sat and
knelt down beside her and flung my
arms about her waist.
"Vicky, darling" 1 gasped, all out
nf breath. sit was a mistake. He took
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