The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1896-09-30


had been strictly forbidden to touch
anything under pain of the severest
penalties. And now, at the end of
his first week of ruralizing, Gaydon
felt that he had nearly had enough of
loneliness. The little village inn was
comfortable, and Boniface sufficiently
talkative; it was pleasant thing to
sit in the depths of the woods ali day,
painting and dreaming; it was sooth.
ing to hear the twitter of the birds In
the early morning, before tumbling
out of bed.
But Laurence Gaydon was o man
who lived best in the atmosphere of
cafes the music he best loved was the
ceaseless hum and chatter of great
city. Let it not be thought that he
was, by reason of this, artificial in any
sense his sympathies were too broad
for that, and one glance into his gray
eyes. with that lurking fire of mis-
chief in their depths, would have con-
vinced any man that he was one to be
trusted. Children thought SO, at all
events, and there are no more unerr.
ing judges than they.
He went out, on this day which he
told himself should be his last, and sci
up his easel in the woods and began
to work. A little pathway ran close
to where he sat, on the borders of the
wood, and stile crossed it, and broke
the tangled regularity of the wild, un
trained hedge.
He had been working for some time
when he heard the sound of approach
ing footsteps. Something of o frowu
crossed his face, for he had no wisl
to be disturbed, and he was well &C
quainted with the uumeaning stare ol
the average rustic and its disconcert
ing properties. Under these circum
stances, he kept his head bowed ovel
his work and frowned moro heavily
than before.
The steps which appeared rather
light for rustic-stopped near him
within few yards, and the next mo
ment the silence was broken by tn
clearest and sweetest tones he had eve
heard.
"Good morningi"
He glanced up quickly, and almos
dropped his palette in his surprise.
There, rerched on the top of tn
stile, was dainty maiden, clad all il
white. with great Tapping hat shad
ing her curls, and with little baske
resting in her lap. Her back wa
partly turned towards him, and sh
was glancing over her shoulder at th
canvas critically.
Laurence Gaydon pulled of his ha
and returned the greeting.
"Wbat are you doing in my wood T?
she asked.
"I-Pm sure had no idea-I didn
Il didn't know that / was trespass
ing" he began hurriedly.
But she interrupted him calmly.
"Oh you needn't be frightened,
she exclaimed. "I call it my woot
you see, because no one ever seems {
come here except myself. Don't Il
me interrupt you, like to see yo
work. We can go on talking just til
same-can't we?"
She did 90 on talking in the artles
confiding manner of child.
Before she finally jumped dow
from the stile, and ran lightly, out @
sight among the trees, Laurence Ga,
don had heard her whole history,
81 never get any one to talk to,
she explained, with a wistful shake {
the head. "Poor old dad died yei
ago, and sent me over here. That
where 1 live-that big house throug
the trees. There's only my Unc
GustaYe-he makes you shudder whe
you look at him; and Aunt Louise
she's like Lady Macbeth, only fiercel
and the servants. They look aft,
me-and my money. Uncle's II
guardian, you know; poor old dG
thought lot of him. / believe he
awfully clever. But you haven't to-
me your name yet.
"Well, some people have the il
pudence to address me familiarly
Laurie" he replied. every rude
them shows they don't appreciate n
-dl..aaitg IN a proper manner. Most pc
pie call me A.. Gaydon."
"Ohl 1 think Laurie is a iol
name" she exclaimed at seems
go round your tongue 50 nicel
doesn't it?"
''Yes, I've noticed that myself, y
replied, as seriously as he coul
"But you haven't told me yet VIII
your name is. "
'Nellie-Nellie Meade. Now