Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1895-11-21
A GAME POSTPONED.
BY GERTRUDE SMITH.

the hrst really good sleighing Of the
winter would begin.
The great fields lay in unbroken
whiteness- The woods along the
banks of the Iowa river were pillows
Of snow. The large farmhouses, and
the number inc size of the barns and
other outlying buildings, gave evil
dence of the richness of the soil that
lay buried and resting for another har-
| vest.
Judge Hilton's house had the dis
tinction of being built of brick. There
was a dignity ia its solidity over the
usual white frame houses on the sur.
rounding farms that we'll became the
dignity of the judge.
The judge was New England born
and bred. There is the generation for
Puritan ancestry in the entirely west
ern soul that the Puritan mind still
has for good old English blood.
Isabel Hilton was her fathers house
keeper and only child. The mother
a. died while she was a baby, and
she had ruled the house and been
ruled by her father since that time.
She had all her father's reserve and
pride of family, and at the same time
his happy nature and gracious manner,
ina won her friends when she desired
to make friends. Those who found it
impossible to win their way into her
favor called this reserve in Isabel her
down east airs" There was a dis
couraging belief among the young men
In the country around, some of whose
fathers owned farms and herds of
cattle large enough to divide and es-
tablish them in enviable beginnings,
that If the judge thought any of them
worthy to win his daughters love
there would never be an opportunity
to gain the consent of the young lady.
The judge had theories against Isa-
bells entertaining young men alone,
nor would he permit her to go with any
escort but himself.
The privilege of spending the even
ing with Isabel, in the presence of her
father, was considered a mark of dis
tinction, and held the one so honored
on the wave of hope.
IF a fellow had the backbone to out
sit the judge some night, be might pro-
pose to the daughter" was the COM
ment Mr.. Holderman made to his son
one day. Clint Ho1derman had been
one OF lsabeIs most persistent admirers.
The trouble with all of you is. you
go there shaking in your boots, and
talk to the judge, and come away with
the big head because you dared to do
that; but / tell you, if l was a young
fellow I'd out-sit him if 1 sat till the
break OF day. Its some such pluck as
that the judge is looking for. He
raised her, and he knows her value:
and she amt going cheap t. none of
you If you can go in ahead of the
other fellows and tow her in, I'll give
you ten thousand dollars and deed you
a section of land. Come, now, let's see
what you're made Of"
Clint Holderman drove over to the
brick house early on the evening that
had set his mind with fint-like de-
termination to give his fathers advice
the trial.
He had spent many evenings of the
winter playing chess with the Judge, SO
he was sure of his welcome; but to-
night he looked beyond all this. lie
thought of the hour when, at last, with
his heart and understanding touched,
the judge would bid them good night,
and he should be left alone with Isabel.
There was nc h~andsomer young man
in the country than Clint Holderman;
none who danced better, or who drove
better horses; but, more than all this,
the judge had repeatedly told him that
he had never known a man who PLAYED
a better hand at chess.
This was an encouragement indeed:
for if the judge had a weakness it was
for chess, and it would be decidedly
pleasant to have a son-in-law who
could be to him sach a ready source of
entertainment, As be drove into the
yard. the judge came out on the side
piazza.
Good evening" he called out. "Just
drive on TO the barn; the man will put
out your horses"
Swapping cold, out splendid sleigh
Ing" the judge said, while Clint was
pulling off his ove1 coat in the hall.
Yes, l believe my ears are touched"
Clint answered, rubbing them.
Isabel Is popping some corn. She'll
be glad you happened over to help
eat it."
He led the way into the long sitting
room at the end of the hall.
Isabel was on her knees before an
open wood fire. shaking a corn pepper.
The white kernels snapped and ex-
banded with a pleasant sound.
The lamp had not been lit, but the
freight made the room bright and
cozy.
Isabel, here is Mr. Holderman, my
dear"
She sprang up.
Il didn't hear you come in. Good
evening. Come over here by the fire.
Why, it's Clint" she said, as he came
into the glow. II thought father
meant your father. never think of
you as Mr.. Holderman. Have some
corn"
She held the pepper open before
him. I'm sure 1 never think of you
as Miss Hilton" he said, plunging his
hand into the corn. aud laughing.
''That would be a little too much like
strangers, as long as we've known
each other"
The judge left the room for a mo-
ment, and came back with a lighted
lamp, and placed it on the claw-legged
table in the center of the room. He
had put on a long dressing-gown faced
with crimson quilted silk, and now he
drew his great chair up before the fire,
and stretched himself out in it.
"Come, Clint, 1 will let you shake
the pepper for me, and I'll go down
cellar and get some apples" Isabel
looked pit him with a merry twinkle in
her eyes. as she held the handle toward
him, and hen ran out of the room.
Clint grasped the handle of the pop
per with the delight of success flood
ing his veins. Isabel had never be-
fore given him a reason to believe that