The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1899-12-28


TOGRAPH.
that noble girl rose up in his breast
admiration very unlike that with
which he had heard his brilliant class
mates proclaim their knowledge. His
heart told him, 81 love her." Why not
let his heart be heard?
They strolled along together to the
music of the sea. H. Parker felt that
there was melody even in the scream
ing of the gulls overhead. He won
dered why 1t had never seemed so be-
fore.
LET us sit up there under the big
rock" suggested Grace, pointing to the
nearest of the cliffs which leaned for
ward over the sand and made cosy
shelter from the sun. Here the sand
was cool, the glare softened and the
view Of cheap cottages and decrepit
bath houses cut off, while the whole
stretch of beach on the right lay be-
fore them like broad white highway.
Grace sat with her back against the
rock. and at her side reclined the doc
wi, AuA4 ASA6GA upOu IAO 6dnu.
"Are you ever serious, Miss Mars
ton?" quoth he with but a trace of
that quality in his own tone.
Sometimes.
"On what rare occasions would II be
possible for one to find you in that
mood?"
'Oh, we'll, I'm not naturally so, rou
know, but once in while when some
thing goes wrong to induce it get
very serious-even blue-and as al
ways end by finding out what silly,
useless creature am, there is very lit
tie enjoyment in being serious. Please
let's not be serious, Mr.. Baxter"
"Never more light-minded in nv
life, Miss Marston-never. But tell me
how you deduct your conclusion which
proves you silly. useless creature. l
am very clever at showing fallacies in
reasoning"
"Well, unless because. l live a USE
less life. Just look at my diary for a
winter. Just look it through and see
If you find anything accomplished,
anything improving or worthy. Dances
-calls-teas, over and over again. Do
you call that sort of thing living? The
people meet day by day there; do 1
know them, are they friends, do they
know me? No, it's all vanity-artifi-
cial-a waste of time"
Grace was serious enough now and
stared out to sea with a frown upon
her brows as dark as any that ever
lowered there.
A pause and her companion spoke.
Tt may be vanity for some, but not
for you, Miss Marston. Society fur
nishes field for superficial character
to breed and thrive in, but yours is
good and strong and sincere"
81 have begun to forget and disre-
gard what it naturally is. / am tired
Of that life. I love the woods and
the seattle open air and the sense
Of freedom; freedom to go where !
please, be as want to be. choose COM
panions that l like"
Then the view of cliffs and breakers
is pleasanter than the brilliant ball
room with its music and flowers? That
cottage half buried in the pines seems
truer home than many brown stone
front on the avenue?"
"Ah. thousand times" answered
Grace with the frown dying out of her
face. His words were slow and earn
est, but she seemed not to connect
them with the speaker. They put her
into brown study and she fell to ex-
aiming a handful Of sand for garnets.
Watching the search, he continued
even more quietly than before.
Would there be happiness for you
in little home such as that cottage,
far from town, with all it's parties and
things, where you would be with real
people, where you would be loved and
served by real friends?"
Closer scrutiny Of the sand.
Would you give up that luxurious
life that you have followed for this,
and for fellow whose every energy
would be turned to your happiness
such fellow, in fact, as I?''
The sand slipped away. and the gar
nets were lost.
oh. Grace, Grace, would you-could
YOU" l,.--n.y,.
Ding. dong-dinle was about long;