The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1899-02-04


with the wheat, so father couldn't spare
enough to let him go; so then Bob gave
in and said: All right. III go into
business, for l don't want to stay a.
farming So his uncle took him into
the mantles. where he might be doing
we'll; but | wish he'd never gone TO
school, / do, then he'd a-been content
to stay and help his father about the
old place that's belonged to the Frys
no one knows how long. You can see
their names in the churchyard."
1t was in the churchyard, amid the
moss-grown headstones, that Miss
Roscommon not only saw the names of
many dead and gone Frys, but made
the acquaintance of the newcomer. He
came to her across the field that lay be-
tween the house and the church, and
she could see his fair hair shining in the
sun. He was tall and handsome, she
thought.
T"My mother sent me to tell you that
tea is ready. It's half an hour earlier
than usual. Yes, I've just come down.
It all seems very ', r., beautiful after Lon
"It's so beautiful" said Mabel, "that
1 am beginning to wonder how l shall
ever be able to leave it."
He walked beside her for awhile in
silence, then he said:
"You were at Girton. my mother tells
me. Don't you find this sort of thing
strange after the stirring intellectual
life there"
She laughed little.
81 don't think we were very intel
lectual-" she began.
81 feel so much all have missed" he
said. ''If only my father had not sown
wheat that year"
YES" she said, 81 know; it was very
hard"
She was interested in the boy, for,
though he was of her own age, he
seemed to her infinitely young. His
naive, laundering anxiety 10 let her see
that he, too, knew all about the Intel
lectual life," his respect for her as a
Girton girl, and, above all, certain
wistful sadness about his blue eyes,
stirred her half-amused sympathy, His
presence seemed to promise a new in
terest to life at the farm.
The promise was fulfilled. He at
tached himself frankly to Miss Ros-
commons apron strings-walked with
her, drove her in the market cart, sat
with her under the gray apple boughs,
and talked without ceasing. He was
well-read was acquainted with modern
as we'll as classic literature-he quoted
almost necessarily. When he was not
quoting he talked of authors, of edi-
tons, of style and of form How should
she know that he had his own dreams
which he managed to disguise under
these quotations from the dreams of
others? Miss Roscommon was the first
educated woman he had ever met, and
lie seemed angonizedly anxious to lose
no chance of showing her that he, too,
had been educated, that he was not
merely the foolish boy she might have
expected to find in the ''son OF the
house" at farm. At first this sensitive,
insistent egotism amused Miss Roscom-
mon. then it irritated her, and at the
end Of three days she was as near hat
ing Robert Fry as she had ever been
to hating anyone-even the least-loved
professor at Cambridge. Yet, after all,
it was not possible to Mabel quite to
hate anyone, nor was it possible that
Robert Fry should ever be by anyone
quite hated. She had very manly vein
of toerance-and he timid, appealing
manner, which, if not feminine, was at
least childlike. But his quotations go:
on her nerves, and the quiet charm of
her holiday was shattered. 1t was on
the fourth evening that she spoke. lie
had been standing beside her, looking
at the sea, and suddenly broke the calm
of the great silence. to quote Mathew
Arnold's lines:
The sea of faith
Was thus once at the full, and round earth's
shore
Lay like the folds of bright girdle furled ;
But now
IL wish you wouldn't" she interrupt
ed, almost peeyishly
His blue eyes turned on her with the
appealing look of child's wear when
one whom it trusts speaks with sudden
harshness
Don't look at me like that" she
said, her patience and her pretty man
ners giving way together under the
strain of that absurd appeal. ITS only
that l came into the country to rest,
and"
Il see, you don't like me to talk to
you. | am very sorry. l never meant
to bore you. It's very good of you to
tell me straight out" He raised his cap
and turned to leave her.
ooh, don't!" she said again. 81 am
so sorry! don't mean to be rude-but,
don't you feel it, too? One wants TO
rest from literature and all that sort
of thing. | am sure you feel it, too,
only you think person from Girton
wants this sort of entertaining. She
doesn't, assure you; she just wants to
look about and see things happen, see
how the flowers grow, and what the
pigs eat, and how the sheep come into
the fold, and wonder how the chickens
know when it's time to be fed"
He stood looking at her, still visit
fully.
"You're not angry with me, are you?"
he said.
angry? No, of course not; and YOU