The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1898-03-23

ries our Miss Merriman will be of the
opinion that he has drawn prize"
Snowdrop gave a peck at her friends
finger and flew away in the wake of
the flock, and John Powell drew down
the sash and went back to the table
and resumed his chair But there
was still an attraction remaining on
the windowsill, box filled with some
thing green and growing. From
among the green divided leaves arose
the red buds of the clover soon to
blossom.
'"They look as if they had been
grown in the far PASTURE" said John,
full Of his home-longing; and then he
set himself TO wondering what Miss
Rosie was like. Mrs. Clarke, his
landlady, knew the girl and was not
at all averse to singing her praises;
he had heard them on the stairs, he
had heard them IN the hallway, he had
heard them at the doorway of his
room. The children in the street
knew Miss Rosie and Miss Rosie's
pigeons, and once in while he saw
some small mortal tenderly carrying a
bunch of Miss Rosie's flowers. His
landlady talked to him as if he, also,
were well acquainted with Miss Rosie,
and as if he did not fully appreciate
her; every now and then she asked
him to pay an evening call to that
fiower-bedecked home in the third
story of the corner house; but he had
always refused. He did not listen at all
eagerly to the praises that she sang on
the stairway and down in the hall and
even at the threshold of his room, yet
he remembered and treasured every
word of them. He laughed feebly as
he thought of all this. He was in love
with Miss Rosie and he had never seen
her. What would Mrs. Clarke say if
she knew that he wrote notes to the
girl? The red color deepened in his
cheeks and spread over his whole face.
Yes, he did write notes to her; very
unsentimental notes, to be sure; but
they meant more than they said, and
he tied them under the wing of Snow
drop and addressed them to no name.
He began neither with "NIiss Rosie"
nor Dear Miss Rosie" he did not
dare, he had never seen her; but he
wrote, in his neatest handwriting,
telling her the proper food for pigeons,
and how to keep the birds in healthy
condition, explaining now and again
that he had passed his boyhood in the
country and had always been interest
ed in pigeon-raising. To these notes
he signed his name in full, John Pow
Ell; he did not wish the girl to think
some foolish boys were meddling with
her birds. And the girl wrote back
to him; he smiled as he thought of
that. Her notes were invariably the
same, consisting of the words "Thank
you" and her name "Rosamond"
John Powell rested his arms on the
table, lost in day-dream. 1t was n
strange thing that the eyes he pictured
to himself rs the kindest and the tru-
est eyes girl might possess, and, of
course, 'Miss Rosie" had them, should
be so strangely familiar to him, and
the nose that he saw in fancy he had
also seen in fact. Those red lips, slight
ly curved, those dimples in a small
delicate face-"Pshawl" he cried out,
''that isn't she at all; it's Miss Merri-
man, and I'm not the kind of fellow
to be in love with two girls!"
Then he pictured in his mind vague
Miss Rosie and told himself emphati-
cally that she was as good as any wo-
man living and would make most ex-
cellent wife for poor young man who
had hopes of future success and
who loved a refined and pleasant home.
Those red clover-heads would be in
full blossom by st. Valentines Day.
Well, he would send a bunch of them
to this girl. After that he would pluck
up his courage and ask Mrs. Clarke to
take him around in the evening and
introduce him. His landlady would
be glad to do this, and she would be
able to vouch for his industry and his
future prospects. And after that?
Why, after that it would all be plain
sailing.
The following morning John Powell
walked to the store more rapidly than
usual. He was feeling remarkably
energetic and young and strong and
faithful. Make up your mind, then
go all ead;" and he had quite made up
his mind. He was sure that his mind
was quite made up even when Miss
Merriman smiled pleasantly as she
said "Good-morning" The girl looked
pale; she had in all probability
brought a bad headache to the ribbon
counter; but John Powell knew that
she would not complain. He told
himself emphatically that it was ut
terly impossible for miss Rosie to re-
semble Miss Merriman; and then he
looked at the girl at the ribbon coun-
ter in a calm and sensible manner.
What did she know about the com
forts of home? She had stood in a
store for years. She had taken from
her head the very daintiest of hats. He
knew something about the styles and
the cost Of things. Delicate, tasteful
things cost money; aud Miss Merri-
mans hat was both delicate and taste