The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1894-12-18

NO q guessed all the truth, but she
was very i'll, and they were all kind;
and by-and-by she got up, when the
roses blossomed and walked about the
garden, wondering at its cheer and
bloom.
Was it the same world, after ala
Everything seemed so different to Nan
nie-so very, very differentl
That she had repented did not seem
to matter. She must bear her punish
ment and bear it she did with no un
wonted patience.
And, ah, what a patient girl she wasl
assisting her mother, teaching her sis
ters, tending the teething baby who
had ri everybody else out not a
bit like the imperious, passionate,
pretty Mamie of old.
81 declare, Mamie, you are quite
plain since your sickness" her mother
said, not dreaming what a stab she
gave her daughters sore heart.
Had that gone, too-even her little
bit of beauty, which had found favor
in John Grandmont's eyes9
And now, after the long, dreary sum-
mer, people who enjoyed life were go
ing to have a picnic in Harebell Hol
low.
No; she did not care to go. Besides,
it was just a year since the day she had
last met her sweetheart.
Nannie's heart was too full of mem
cries of those last hours for her to at
tempt to mingle with happy people.
''Mollie," she whispered to her friend,
as the latter went away in a trim new
suit with its Scotch plaid ribbons,
''come down into the orchard when you
come back, and perhaps l will tell you
something"
Eyes, dear, I will, said good natured
Mollie, kissing her on both cheeks.
And don't you fret"
People never stayed late in Harebell
Hollow-it was too damp, though such
a, pretty ~place-and just at sunset,
Mamie, lying on the old rustic settee,
heard a step in the rustling grass.
"Have you come, Mollie9" she said,
in a stifed voice.
She had been crying, and did not lift
her swollen face.
Some one sat on the old seats head,
and put a gentle hand upon her brown
curls.
II know you're sorry for me, Mollie.
You're a real good girl and we've been
friends for a long time, and I might
have told you, perhaps, but l couldn't
bear to speak John Grandmont's name.
Oh, Mollie, I loved him SO! He was
all the world to me. Yet I got o
and scolded about the least little thing
my wearing pink and blue ribbons
together-and he meant no harm, and
he was offended. He couldn's dream
l could be so cross and unreasonable, l
know; and he left me. 1 deserve it.
But, oh, Mollie, it seems sometimes as
if 1 couldn't bear it. To-night-just
such a night again, cool, and the west
wind so balmly, and the smell Of the
spice sweetings ripening-and all the
other nights like this l must be left
alone"
Sobs choked the rest.
my little darling2"
But it wasn't Mollie's voice-it wasn't
Mollie's face bending closer above
Nannie's tear filled, startled eyes.
EEMv moor little MAMMAL aaid .TOhn
Grandmont, kneeling at her side and
taking her in his arms. I'VE have
both suffered enough. Let us forgive
each other. And we won't quarrel
again-while spice sweetings ripen!"
"Ah, two such happy hearts under
the spice sweeting trees!
John had come to the picnic, hoping
for a glimpse of Mamie, and Mollie had
beguiled him to the gate of the jumpers.
Mamie is in the orchard" she had
" Pc