Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1894-12-20

outen that pore old hillside field that
he's afflicted with. Conscience alive,
pity the woman he marries."
Il don't reckon he's old enough yet
to think about marryin anybody" the
girl replied. Having tucked up her
skirts she had begun to ply the churn
dasher.
Not old enough" the woman
snapped. MY sakes alive, I'd like to
see a fool too young to think about
gittin' married these here days. And
warrant you that thar air gals fool
enough TO marry him. Oh you neenter
jerk that dasher around, for you know
it's fact. do believe you'd be fool
enough yourself"
The girl was silent. She had ceased
to ply the churn dasher she stood mo-
tionless, gazing down the slope toward
the pool where she and the young fell
low had watched the bass and the
perch.
Yes" the woman repeated, II do
believe that you'd be fool enough to
marry him yourself"
We'll, if / was to, / might not have
to chuIu all the time, the girl replied,
resuming her work.
That's a fact" the woman quickly
agreed. Yes, that's a fact, for you
wouldn't have nothin to churn.
We'll, I'd rather not have nothin' to
churn | wish there wasn't COW no
where hate EN-. All the time goin'
about causin' folks to churn. If was
to marry man I'd see that he didn't
have cow"
you can safely marry Sam, then.
II never have one-he'll never have
-, thing"
Hell have wife if he marries, ]
reckon"
Don't you sass me, Nell. won't
have it."
Il wouldn't sass you, nanny. You
know / wouldn't; but he would have a
wife if he married, wouldn't he? If he
didn't there wouldn't be any use in
marryin', would there?"
FLUSH SIGH foolishness. Itwould de-
pend altogether on the woman he got"
Suppose he got me9"
Look here, Nell. You amt thinkin'
about marryin' him, air you?"
Lowed might, as he amt got a
cow, and that's about all I'd ask of
him. But, nanny, suppose / was to
tell you that love him?"
Il would think you had lost your
senses"
swell, then, reckon have, for
| do love him. Yes, / love him so much
that | despise him and could knock
| him down.
| ''Gracious alive!" the woman cried.
! you've upset the churn and all the
millz's gone. Come back here to me-
| You'll break your neck a runnin' off
down thar. You are the fetchtakedest
creeter l ever seed"
The girl came back, laughing an
apology for the mischief which she had
wrought, and the woman was scolding
her, though with lessening harshness,
when the mirthful apology and the
reprimand were put TO an end by the
: sudden appearance of a man, who,
lazily turning bend in the path that
ran round a corner of the house, came
slouching toward the woman He held
up piece of paper, futtered it, and
drawlingly said
OOO IliIS mere MISS Nell.
For me?" the girl cried, running to-
ward him. She snatched the piece of
paper, ran away short distance,
halted, and read the following:
Now that have found out you hate me and
| don't want to be kissed all the time am goin'
| away to be poet, and when am one know
| you will love me some and will let me kiss you
a part of the time at least. If l don't become
a poet never will come back again, for bein'
poet is the only way I can win your love- for
that is the only way can learn to tell you how
much love you. and when have done that
you can't help lovin me for then you will see
my soul all blazin for you don't reckon
can get to be poet before Christmas, but I
am sure will by then, so you may look for me
Christmas; and if by any strange possibility
don't get to be poet in time TO reach home by
Chris tmas, you just keep on a despisin me as
much as you please, but you must keep on
waitin' and don't let any 5ody else grab you up
like the bass done the pearch for as tell you
I'll be back
Yours SAM"
A change came with the reading of
the note. The noon in her eyes So
bered into twilight. For the first
time in her life she was serious. She
turned to her mother and said:
Il am awful sorry l turned over that
churn."
The woman was surprised. Whats
the matter, dear? Never mind about
the churn. What's in the note. Nellie?"
'Nothin'; only Sam has gone away
and won't come back tell he's poet
and I'm afraid he won't be one before
Christmas and want him now"
But maybe he can git the job before
then. It's good while till Christmas
and a good many things mout turn up
'twixt now and then. Don't fret none"
But she did fret. She fretted for
weeks at time; at morning when she
saw the dew on the trumpet vine. at
noon when she stood, gazing into the
blue pool, at evening when the whip
poorwill sang his sad song. The season
ripened, the grain was reaped. the
leaves had fallen-Christmas was APP
preaching, coming slowly down. it
seemed. from the browning hills.
Christmas Eve, Christmas night The
girl stood in the door, listening. No
.~-.,.1- oyaov+ 4bo flint hall L.nI.