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


you did when you lived here, and saw
the difference between me and-and
Miss Vallas, for instance. I cannot
help it. We are poor, and it takes
money to dress well. I do not suit you
I know that very well-and 1 hate
pretending. You need never feel
obliged to come to the jumpers again.
Let us go back to the house
Certainly, if you wish, he said.
Back they went over the red clover
tops, their backs to the luminous glory
of the west, which framed with it's
food of gold Johns stern white face
and Nannie's pout.
VIII would have thought she had
such a temper and was so unreasona-
bleG" he was saying to himself.
HE hated me and 1 hate myself.
Oh, dearl' Mamie was waiIing in
spirit, but she yet tossed her curly head
with an un~relenting air.
They reached the old blue door stone.
81 can catch the six o'clock train, l
think, said John, looking at his watch.
Il think you can, " syllabled Mamie,
icily, with a bleeding heart.
John stepped into the hall and took
down his linen buster from a peg.
Mamie airily selected some sprays
from the blossomed door vine, and
took no notice of the pale face and
stormy blue eyes.
John did not usually go until the 8
o'clock train, and he was going-going!
"As we were about parting, I had
better say, perhaps, that 1 meant no
offense," he said, his hat in his hand,
but with a manner distant as her own,
and a tone hard as iron.
''That makes no difference" re
sponded Mamie, coldly and indiffer-
emily.
John straightway put on his hat and
marched out at the gate. Mamie
listened to the dying tread a moment,
her eyes fixed OF the ground; then,
looking up, seeing him gone, hearing
all still but the accustomed twilight
sounds, she started, few up to her
room, and, casting herself upon the
bed, uttered a cry of grief and broke
into a passion of tears.
A year passed away. The lovely
weather, the clover tops in the lane,
the apple orchard were all the same.
The jumpers was still Nannie's home,
and only she had changed, how much
can scarcely be told.
The infantile roundness of her cheeks,
the air of extreme youth, the vivid
bloom we're gone; the girl had suffered,
and was purified.
You'll go to the picnic, won't you,
Nannie?' said her friend Mollie Hale.
The Gays will be there, and Ed. Davine.
I shall go. And lots of people from the
city are coming out"
No, Mamie was not going, and Mollie
did not attempt further to persuade
her. She was the only n who com
planned of the change in Mamie.
1t pleased others. Mollie declared
that Mamie had grown ''sober and old
maidish." She was a good hearted
girl; she OWNED that Mamie had sui,
fered and was sorry for her. None the
less she resented being shut out of her
confidence.
For Mamie had never lisped one
word of what had caused the estrange-
ment between her and John Grand
mont. A whole year had passed, and
she had never mentioned his name.
Oh, how bitterly she repented! What
a period of suffering it had beenl
At first she expected to hear from
John. He would write, of course, to
upbraid her-probably to request the
retured of his gifts-the pretty bracelet,
a book, a fan, a scarf-there had been
no ring. She would not have parted
with them for the world.
Did he dream of the truth, and leave
them with her out of mercy7 Probably
so; and indeed it was not so. The truth
was John thought nothing of these
trifes.
After their silly, wicked quarrel,
which Mamie could see now was all
her fault, she had wept herself sick;
but on preparing for the night, had
discovered M of the pink ribbons she
had worm with her gray carriage dress
knotted in her hair.
She had forgotten to remove it when
donning the white muslin. The pink
and blue ribbons certainly were not in
harmony, aud probably John had
meant no harm.
Oh, why did she fly out in such an
unreasonable way9 No wonder he had