Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1898-04-12

point" us the promontory she was
standing ON was called, lifted its green
head full 200 feet above the water level.
Across the many tinted vines that
wrapped the tall forest trees in royal
mantles Of scarlet and geld she looked
down upon the fat bottom lards that
lay green and moist at the foot of the
cliffs. 1t was down there that Strong
" as making hermit of himself. Why,
NO one knew.
She was thinking Of him. Sorrow.
fully, pitifully, tcnderly. Perhaps NO
one could come as near comprehending
his dark mood as she could. He had
found it impossible TO take mp the old
life just where he had dropped it before
going to Shingleton. But why should
| he have tried to do it: He was man.
The world was all before him. He could
have gone out &c grapple with it. She
was woman. That meant 70 much in
the way Of restriction and limitation.
She could only stand and wait.
Neck or Nothing looked desolate
enough from where she gazed down
upon il. Faithless worm fences crawled
in decrepit crookedness about its few
acres Of cleared land. A solitary forlorn
cabin. shutterless and unpainted, was
his home. A starveling pair Of mules,
browsing on the stiff crab grass within
the inclosure; shadeless, hard beaten
dooryarl. with half dozen chickens in
full possession; ragged patch OF cotton
crowding close up about the crooked
fence; one noble sycamore spreading
wide, sheltering arms over all this
drcarincss. She took in the details one
by one.
'What was Strong thinking off,
Into this dissatisfied rpverie came q
heavy, crashing football, and Seth stood
before her, staggering under the weight
Of two rough hewn willow posts. He
flung them down with laugh and dried
his streaming forehead on his shirt
sleeves.
"What now, Seth?" Liza asked.
walking around the long posts inquisi-
lively. why, what Hercules you
arer'
Il been thinkin bout you, sissy,
ever sence We parted this mornin, and it
come to me, if you was bent on doin all
Your picture maxim in this pertickler
spot, Id better be providin g'inst ac-
cidents. The rainy season is comm on,
a,l ,.'.,, - ,,,,. h.r. IL Jnn p ,nnt. M
bones about il. Sometimes We has regu-
lar chunk hoaters. I'm goin to put you
up IA storm shed. Them's the posts for
it,"
Liza looked affectionately up ut the
great sunburned fellow, with his moist.
yellow hair and his loving blue eyes
She had pronounced him common" in
her heart that very morning, for which
she did repent her.
seth, you are entirely too good to
me. l don't deserve one-half that you
do for me- She patted his STOPPING
shoulders carcssingly.
Yes you do, honey, you deserves
lots more. | sometimes thinks il mighty
rough on you-mighty rough. And I'm
sorry for you, b'dogged il amt"
Liza stopped and loosened a silvery
lichcn from the bark Of one Of the posts.
Her eyes were shining and she did not
want Seth to see it.
What is rough on me. buddy Seth!'
1t was the first time she had ever
fallen into the old childish form of ad-
dress.
"All Of it, said Seth gently, "all Of
it. Ne and pa and the niggcrs and the
quarters ard-woll, everything III u
lump. / sC-tcr feel like we all had
trapped little hummin Lird and was
rumplin its purity feathers all the
wrong way with our clumsy handlin.
do. for fac. You needn't to laugh. y
Never mind my plumage. Twill try
to keep it smooth. Ii will b. lovely to
have a storm shed out here, Seth. And
will you put me upa shell too. One that
will hold all my boxes and brushes, 80
that need not bring them backward
and forward every day. That is one Of
my greatest bothers.
"A dozen. if you want EN-" said
Seth delightcdly.
"Cne will do. Where is your hat,
Seth:'
He put long, sunburned hand up to
his lank, yellow hair and laughed un.
concernedly.
"lt's ont yonder in the wagon, full
Of pussimmons. But maybe you've out
growed your love Of pussimmons. l seen
fine lot of ripe ones. Frost, you know,
last Tuesday, and l thought maybe
you'd like to eat 'em as We driv' home. "
(which l expect we ought to be do
ing now promised mother to help her
with the swee. potato pies. Indeed |
have not outgown my persimmon
taste.
Seth waved his hand vaguely.
Whenever it suits You. If You want
to draw some mo-, can wait. So can
the sweet potato pies. l can be diggin
them post holes by way Of siyin time.
Don't mind me, sissy.
Il don't believe l want to draw any
more. My morning has been all spoiled.
I am quite ready to go home.
"Who spilled your mornin!"
"Mr. Adrien Strong. What an Adonis
he is, Sethn'
A veiled but dangerous light came
into Seth's mild blue eyes.
lis Adr'n Strong been pesterin you:'
Il think pestered him more than he
did me. !"
Such an unaffected ripple Of laughter
broke from Liza's parted red lips that
Seth's threatening aspect melted in
simultaneously into one Of the most alb
ject alteration.
"I'd ruther hear one laugh like that
from you, sissy. than to lis'n to the
brass band Of Dan Rice's circus, b'dog-
ged il l wouldn't, for fac. But
what's that about Adr'n Strong sp'ilin
your mOrnin!'
Then, as together they traversed the
peafield toward where the wagon was
waiting for them, Liza told him about
Adrien and Sarah Jane and the broken
ramrod. About the revelation contained
in the crumpled piece Of paper which
Adrien had meant to cram into the bar
rel of his gun she did not speak. The
wallet she put into Seth's hand, saying
briefly:
"He left this behind. Give IL back
TO him, please. F"
"Did you think l warn't never com
in back for you:" Seth asked, lifting
her lightly into position on the wagon
and putting his fruit Offering into her
hap.