The suburban citizen., 1900-03-31

To-day ne felt almost himself again,
but a whistling, driving snowstorm, a
fierce blizzard, such as sometimes
strikes New York in the latter part OF
February, was raging. and forbade
him to venture out. Tired with the
unwonted inaction OF the past two
days, the editors thoughts turned to
his work, and he began to consider
the makeup of the number now in
preparation.
''I'n not quite satisfied with the
May number" he murmured. "It'a
a little heavy for May; there ought to
be morn of the light and life and bios
soming Of May in it. Now, those
'Pastelles'-we haven't any really
good spring story in them"
The "Pastelles," a new department
Of the magazine, were short sketches,
with hardly plot enough to be called
stories; sometimes a light character
study--a delicate word painting on
some aspect of nature.
Mr.. Ashcroft took an art calendar
from the wall by his side and turned
the leaven until he came to the May
page. The picture was an excellent
copy of % water color painting. 1t
represented an orchard of apple trees,
covered with their pink and white
bloom. A young girl stood under one
of the trees, leaning gracefully against
the gnarled trunk, her hands clasped
loosely before her. The whole was
deicately tinted, and seemed almost
to carry with it a faint fragrance Of
the blossom laden May.
8 His thoughts went back to the viii
lage Of Raynor, where he had spent a
few months years ago. Some college
prank had brought him into trouble
with the faculty, and he had been sus-
pended for four months. His father
had sent him to the little Connecticut
village to spend the time with an old
college classmate.
One of the village girls, shy little
Faith Thorno, had from the first held
captive his b0yish fancy. As he came
to know her better her influence in
creased, and no said to himself that
he had found the pearl among women.
Brought up in Quaker household,
for Faith was an orphan and lived
with her grandparents, certain
quaintness, a childlike simplicity and
directness, made her seem unlike the
other merry, chattering country lasses.
Little by little he and Faith came
to be more and more to each other; the
wild rose flush in her cheeks deep
ened when he was by,a sweet shyness
made the blue eyes droop before his.
She would not let him bind himself
by any promise. they were both too
young, she h9d said. He must 90
away now, finish his college course
with honor. and then, when he had
taken the place waiting for him in his
fathers Office, he might come again
10 Raynor, and he would find her
waiting for him.
So, on this afternoon, with the
February storm raging without, Ford
Ashcroft's thoughta went back and
fingered on tho springtime idyl OF
those long ago years. Could 1t be
twelve years-Faith would be twenty
nine now, but somehow ke could not
think Of her as looking much older
than the young girl ho had left IN the
orchard. Surely she had notlost that
pure, childlike face--a little older,
perhaps, little sadder, but still with
those innocent, wistfsl eyes. Andhe
-well-he was thirty.four; he had
lived in the midst of the rush and
whirl Of city life.
''It would make a good 'Pastelle, ;"
no finally remarked, aud turned to his
desk, took up his pen and began to
write. Slowly at first, then, as the
past seemed to come nearer, his pen
moved more rapidly over tho page.
He told OF the college youth in the
little village, of the shy maiden who
won his boyish heart; he described
the old orchard with its glory OF apple
blooms; he seemed almost TO inhale
their delicate fragrance as he wrote.
The whole pretty idyl was told in