The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1897-01-23

Z!
was the appls IL Dnnas1 - III io1S
her sake he had turned sehodim
again, giving bef what abe had othsfs
wise gone wanting In Z book1sss land
Without having been pointed thdthsfs
ward, Duncau's efforts to lift hi4s.
daughter above the educational lovSJ
Of tho neighborhood brought about
result which was not the less gratify<
Ing because. It was unforessen.s EhA
book-learning raised barrier between
the girl and the mountain and valley
youth which was more impossible roni
their side than from hers, and until
Protheroe had stumbled upon the Dune
can homestead on one Of his prospects
ing Journeys there had been no suitoan
at the farmhouse. Nor Is IT quite faf1
to say that the young engineer was
the exception. He: had always been
welcome at the stone house In the val-
ley, but he had not yet got beyond the
unapeakable stage with Elsie.
It was the uncertainty of his stand
ing with her that made Protheroe hesd.
tate to introduce q possible rival; and
it was his assumption of superiority over
the common foibles and weaknesses Of
humankind in general, and OF Jealous
lovers in particular, that united with
his sympathies to make him change his
mind. !.
The wagon road up the valley Of tho
Little Chiwassec follows the stream to
a point within quarter OF mile OF
Duncan's house, where it climbs low
wooded spur of John g mountain. From
the top Of this spur the young engineer
could look down upon the house and its
surroundings, and he saw Duncan in the
barnyard talking to stranger-an old
man with white hair and beard falling
over the cape Of tattered army over
coat. At sight Of Protheroe the man
climbed the fence and ran up the moun.
tain, while Duncan came around tho
house to the gate. -. <'
"Good morning, Mr.. Duncan; I hope
I didn't scare your -neighbor away. He
took to the woods as II he thought
might be constable with warrant"
can who kennel you were not, when
ye cam loupfn' over the hill yonder?"
Duncan came out and loosened the sad.
die girth while Protheroe was hitching
the horse.
II did, for one, and you ought to, for
another. But tell me, who is your
neighbor, who looks old enough to DO
my grandfather, and who yet makes
nothing of a ten-rail fence and steep
hillside?'
"Ye're over curious, Robbie, an I'll
no crafty We. Ony frien' O. mines well
come to loup the fence or win out at the
gate, as he pleases. But come ye into
the house; yell be havin' an GRAND
this mornin', I'm thinkin'."
Protheroe laughed at the ehrewd
guess. II have, just that" he rejoined,
"and it'll take family council to set
lie it, too"
Duncan led the way to the sitting
room and called his wife and daughter
from the kitchen. When they came,
Protheroe told what he could Of Thorn.
dykes story. II know next to nothing
about him." he concluded, "but he is
evidently good fellow. and il there Is
q fighting chance for him In this eli.
mate it seems as if he ought to have
the benefit of it,"
"Puir body!" said motherly Mrs.
Duncan. "What shall you say, Janie?"
"1'm thinlsin' it'll be for ye to say,
Martha
Protheroe had been trying to- read
Elsie's face, and the expression Of
awakened sympathy thereon made him
regret for moment the warmth with
which he had been pleading Thorn-
dykes cause. ...
I'm no sayin' it wouldna be Chris
tian thing to do," continued Duncan,
speaking to Protheroe, 'tbut it'll pit
mair work on Martha an the BARN,
an I'm no just free to say when 1t
comes to that
II think you medina be troubled
about that" said the wife. ''The pot