Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1894-02-08
A LIGHTNING FLAsE.
FrYan the Ner Noon.

I eA '0h, yes, excitedly. She
is coming to-day. and / have
fixed up her room so pretty, and
we-and you and /, Harold-will
/ try to make her contented and not
let her miss her gayeties. And we
will tske her to oil the pretty places,
and get up little parties for her,
nd--and-everythingY says Dulce
vaguely, as she pluses for breath
aud pats in fi:ienals~ szs.I, tbs
brown hand resting beside her whittier
one.
And probably get snubbei for
our palms, says the young man
gloomily. Il don't like any of it,
Dulce | shall not like this fine
city lady, who is coming to spoil,
with her high and mighty ways, all
our coy little walks and talks. She
will take you from me, Dulce. She
will tell you | am too big and brown
and rough for a tender little girl
like you. She will talk to you about
her lily-fngered city beaux, with
their perfumes, their actresses, and
their divine taste in carpets and
wall-papers-and what do / know
of such things, dear: | know ev-
cry inch of old Craigmair Wood by
heart. | can row boat with any
of them. can shoot, ride, and
catch more speckled trout in one
day than they ever saw in all their
dainty, perfumed lives; and | have
loved you so dearly, Dulce, that you
have grown not 30 dislike my rough
and homely ways, and you have
found the little good that there is
in me, dear. And now.' still more
gloomily, Miss Helen Mars, who is
critic and woman of the world
to her finger-tips, is coming, and
when you see her slyly smile and
hear her murmur something about
"a rustic swain you will be ashamed
that yol-exar-s -said- yon-l6lxad me;
and when | see that-for you were
never good at hiding things, Dulce
then shall say that | knew from
the very first how it would be-
The girl in the swaying hammock
laughs lightly, but nestles nearer
the detected figure on the camp
stool, and says -
Nonsense, Harold; how can you
paint such wretchS pictures ? Now,
if | were easily frightened, should
just pat my fingers in my ears and
take TO the woods at the first sign
of Miss Mars approach-there to
remain and eat berries, if there were
any, and be covered at night by the
traditional birds with the legenda-
ry leaves. Why should she poke
fun at you? She won't, and, if
she should. do you suppose I'd lis
ten? A rustic swain, indeed in
dignantly. More likely she will fall
head over ears in love with you.
am sure she never saw any one so
handsome, so strong, and so alto
gether to be desired
Stop, Dulce, stop" cries the
young man, holding up both hands.
1t is not likely that Miss Mars will
even notice that l am present.
She will quite overlook me. How
cheap | shall feel Indeed | be-
gin to feel SO already. One might
have me for almost nothing-such
bargain p
Il don't think you'd be cheap at
any price, says Dulce, at which
they both laugh, and Harold says
Come, my sweetheart, and walk to
the gate with me. | must be out of
sight before the dragon, who is to
spoil our summer, comes. She
would not fancy even such a non
entity as | to see her descend from
the carriage, travel-stained and dus-
ty. | will come tonight and make
my best bow and utter few polite
lies to the effect that am glad to
see her here and hope her health
may be improved by a country res
idence. And she will look me over
and smile at my elephantine at
tempt at society nothings-and then
i shall take my hat and saw
Goodnight, Miss Mars good
night. Miss Rodney and touch the
tips of your fingers before GO alone
here, Dulce. where you always go
with me-
They are walking together now,
over the soft green grass, under the
great green oak trees whose rust.
ling branches seem to whisper to
each other and laugh at theIoyers'