The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1894-05-18

aid rain? She was too tired to make
fire or get the supper, and thought she
would go to bed without either. David
ought to have known she could not live
alone. The "carousin'" of the night
before did not seem so objectionable
an offense when she remember ed that
it was the only time he had failed to
have the chores done and warm sup
per waiting for her What could he be
thinking OF, at his age, to want to
work in mine? Perhaps he had been
suffocated by fredamp by this time,
or walled up in some long forgotten
passageway. There was always some-
thing ppening-something terrible
in a. mine. And what of that pistol-it
must have been pistol--in his pocket
David was not used to firearms, and
could not be expected to be on his
guard against the treachery and blood
thirstiness of those fearfully and won
derfully made things. 1t might have
gone off suddenly and unexpectedly
might even have blown his whole head
off. And she involuntarily closed her
eyes as though shutting out the ghast-
ly sight.
By this time her shoes were wet
through, and as she turned the corner
the wind blew her wet sunbonnet
across her face, and for moment shut
out the dim outlines of the road be-
fore her She stopped to fold back the
bonnet and wipe the tears and rain
from her face, and then, looking up,
stood in a doubling, questioning
amazement. There was light in the
window. What could it mean? Could
David really be there? The darkness,
cold and rain were quite forgotten as
she hurried on along the muddy road,
through the gate, and UP the path be-
tween the rain splashed flowers, still
keeping the light-the welcome light
in view, until she opened the door and
stood within the kitchen, Could this
be the room she had pictured to her.
self when she started for home? Here
was light and warmth in place of the
darkness and cold. The supper table
was set as usual, and an appetiZing
odor of baked potatoes, tea and stew
ing apples filled the room. And most
wonderful of all, there was David
hnrrying in through the back door with
the milk pail and in the cheeriest voice
seemingly forgetful of all the perils
of the day-telling her why he had not
gone to meet her.
81 lowed l should certainly git to
the corner" he said; "but that pesky
coy was away off in the back lot, an
wouldn't come for no callin'. So Jest
had to foot it all the way over there
after her. But, Polly, come right up
to the fire an set down in the rockin'
chair, whilst hang up your wet bun
nit an shawl 1t beats all how wet
you air! Here, let me take off your
wet shoes an put them on the wood
box to dry. / jest l1nowed how it would
be when see it comm ON to rain, that
you couldn't noways in reason milk
that COW nor have things comfortable
like here, as they ought to be, an so l
jest hurried back from Tam'rack
Swamp as fast as l could tramp. Me
and John Baker went over there this
mornin' to look for a bee tree. / met
him out near the corner, an nothin'
would do but l must come along. He
says l can find bee tree eastern any
man he knows; an 1 guess he's about
right about it. At any rate, found
this one. I'm awful smart at finding
bee trees. It's good one, too, John
lows there's two hundred pounds of
honey in it One hundred for him and
one hundred for us, We're goin' back
in the lnornin' with Johns horse and
wagin, if nothin happens to hender, to
bring it home. You never see any body
quite SO tickled as John is. Says he's
eat buckwheat cakes two winters 'thout
no ney, an he don't want to do it ag'in
told him you'd be jest as glad as him,
for you'd been kinder hankerin' after
honey all fall"
Here Polly suggested that they ex-
change some of it at the village store
for coffee and tea. And while talking
of the honey, the rough road to the
swamp and John Baker the supper was
eaten and the milk strained, and then
they began to look for something to
bring the honey home in. AS David
started to go upstairs for the wash
boiler, which Polly thought would be
'jest the thing" she said; IAN as
you're agoin' up, David, you may as
well take your other hat an the carpit-
bag; there amt no use havin them
layin' round"
AS the stair door swung shut after
him, his coat, which bad been hanging
from nail on the door, fell to the
floor, and something heavy rolled from
the pocket and under the rocking
chair. Polly, remembering the pistol,
was too much frightened to scream,
and stood listening in terror. Then,
not hearing the almost endless
succession of shots which she had
expected would foil ow she cautiously
stopped and looked under the chair
When she rose to her feet she held in
her hand an old.fashioned case con-
tanning a tintype of herself. The ex-
preston on her face would have been
hard to analyze. There was something
of pity, relief and gladness in it, not
unmixed with little amusement; but
not trace of the hard, unforgiving
spirit of the morning.
As David was coming down the
stairs she replaced the picture in the
pocket, and hung the coat back on it's
nail.
An hour after, when she opened the
kitchen door to empty the dishpan, she
looked out upon a bright moonlight
night The rain had ceased AS she
returned and hung up the pan, she was
singing softly to herself, in voice that
suggested tears:
- If we err in human blindness,
And forget that We are dust;
If we miss the law of kindness
When we struggle to be lust