The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1900-12-19

their laughing inquiry to this ques-
tion as she glanced from the thick
packages, thin packages, and pack
ages of every size, shape and color
that strewed the grass at her feet to
the handsome boy, who had just tum-
bled them from his bulging pockets.
Mae was the prettiest teacher that
ever queened II in country school
house, and she was idling away one
of the last sweet afternoons of sum-
mer vacation in the apple orchard
when Harry Freare, her fellow-board-
er at the brown farmhouse on top of
the breezy hill sought her with his
bulging pockets.
MY exchanges" he explained, sur.
veying the packages at Macs feet
with an air of proud possession.
you know my offer of exchange
came out in Golden Days a little
while ago-'Petrified wood from the
Indian Territory for miscellaneous
curiosities.' A star-fsh, sea-urchin,
a piece of the Atlantic cable" he
continued, keeping up a running com
mentary as he unwrapped each pack
age. "And here's fun" he ex-
claimed, as he finished reading a let
ter. "a Boston boy wants me to get
him a tomahawk from some of the
neighboring tribes of Indians, and to
tell him about some of the buffalo
hunts I've had. The idea of buffaloes
and Indians in Southeastern Kansas!
| haven't done with that boy yet"
he concluded, mysteriously, as he
went away to arrange his curiosities
in the empty cabinet. which was a
late birthday present, and the motive
of his sudden craze for curiosities.
Left alone, Mae took up the zephyr
that was dancing into pink foam un-
der her swift fingers, and tried to
fix her attention on the volume of
Rossetti; but tears came thronging
to her eyes, and at last she gave up
all attempts at self-control. and bow
ing her golden head on her folded
arms, sobbed unrestrainedly
A single word is sometimes the
, key that unlocks a whole world of
recollections, and Boston" had been
J that word for Mae.
The past came surging back upon
her-the golden past of two years
ago, when she was one of the hap
piest girls in Boston, with a brother
in whom she, at least, could see no
fault, and lover whom all the world
agreed in calling as manly and honor.
able a fellow as ever lived.
Then the crash came. John Thorn
| dyke had speculated with his EN-.
ployers money, lost it. and on the
eve of exposure had cut the dark
knot of impending fate and his own
thread of life at one stroke.
It was only one more item in the
lengthening list of crime and suicide
but it changed the face of the world
for Mae.
She slipped away. severing all con
nection with her old life; and for
two years had been teaching a little
prairie-school, near which an old
nurse of hers lived, at whose home
she boarded.
Dear old Phil. with his heart OF
gold, | am so glad he was travelling
in Egypt when | went away, for
know he wouldn't have given me uI
il wild horses had been tearing me
away from him; but | love him toe
much to stain his name with my
brothers disgrace, and he shall never
know where | am hiding" she said
to herself, with loving resolution, as
the storm of sobs abated.
as that boy gettin' crazy, won
der?' said Mrs. Dean, taking an ap
petizing peach-tart out of the over
one Saturday morning, and looking
from the open window at Harry
Freare, who lay on the grass-plo
reading a letter, and bubbling ovel
with suppressed merrlment. III,
never seemed overly fond of writin
till about n month ago, and now he'
always scribblin' and chucklin' ava!
to himself, and mumblin' a string @
stuff about Injuns and buffo lers, ant
yaller-haired gals. Do you think hi
brain can be little mite teched?
she inquired, anxiously, of Mae, VIII,
was whisking a dozen eggs into tn
airiest yellow froth.
Perhaps he has been writing
story, and has just received a lette
of acceptance from the publisher,
laughed Mae, as a wild, eXultant vel
rang out, and Harry rolled OH tn
grass in a paroxysm of mysteriou
delight.
See here. now, sir, you've just go
to tell us all about this! Air yo
crazy, or hev you got a fit, or he
you been writin a story?" demande
Mrs. Dean, swooping upon Harry
, and tugging him into the kitchen.
| "Its the greatest fun / ever haC
and I'd have .old you and Miss Ma
all about 1t, only / was afraid you
want me to stop. You remember th
Boston boy who wap.ed me to &c
him tomahawk?" queried the mirtl
! full culprit at the bar Of justice, O
, he faced Mae. "Well," he continue,
MS she nodded, "I've been writin
him the greatest string of stuff yo
p ever heard about the Indians an
4 buTaloes, and of course had to hay