The Chilhowee echo. [volume] (Knoxville, Tenn.) 1899-19??, 1900-04-21

ed that she re-read it herself; so you see
your communications are appreciated
Write soon to your affectionate friend
JANE S. JOHNSON.
Now, isn't that just like the prim
Old darling~ said Clara.
"Very much like her." he replied
"but [ hope you don't intend to take
her advice and follow her example,"
81 don't know about that" she re.
pied. 81 don't want my individuality
obliterated' any more than she does:'
and she laughed merrily.
-'It would take almost miracle to
overcome her example," she continued
banteringly; "but perhaps if some ex.
qgisite young gentleman with his hair
parted in the middle, and lisp, should
come along thaying thoft, thweet
thinghs, I might thurrender;;" and
again her merry laugh filled the room
with music.
ECould you not love man who was
pain, honest, sincere, and devoted to
you, heart and soul?' he asked earnest
ly, but was interrupted by cry of pain.
Whats the matter?" he exclaimed.
I've hurt my finger" she said rue
fully, showing the dainty member with
drop of blood flowing from the prick
OF o needle. She had wounded herself
to escape the declaration. The blood
called for water and fillet, and she
went to her room to repair damages.
She bolted the door behind her, and,
throwing herself upon her bed, went
through lively pantomime. First she
eric / heartily, with her face in the pill
low, Then she sat up and shook her
fist and made faces at an imaginary
som ebody outside the door. Then she
laue he'd a little, and then she cried
again. Having thus relieved her feel
ings, she became quiet and composed.
The storm had spent it's fury, and the
sun was about to shine again. She
bathed her face, arranged her hair, and
smooted her ruffled plumage with a
shake or two and a stroke here and
there with either hand. Then she went
out and demurely asked Charley Moore
to excuse her little while, as she
wanted to help her mother.
She kept Out Of Charley Moore's way
allf ILL sa!1s.iin iing until he her father return.
ed, bringing with him his guests, Dr..
Plumpsett and Jimmy Sanders. Then
she Joined the party, and was one of
the merriest among them. They played
euchre that night until the clock struck
II, when the advent of Sunday sent
them all to bed.
How fortunate it is that the thoughts
we think at night are not printed on
our pillows for others to read. Were
such the case, how many startling
secret, unsuspected by the world,
would transpire. The guest, as he
,osses restlessly upon his couch, won
lels why Clara left him so suddenly,
md why she has given him no oppor-
unity to speak with her again. Can
t be that she will not accept the heart
hat she must know has been her own
since they were children? Heavy and
lad are the thoughts and gloomily
doubtful. Could it bespossible he had
| rival? "Owen, for instance, is a
mighty taking sort of fellow" Then
le wished himself that he had inquired
low often Owen came over there.
With reverent steps approach we in
'ur fancies the couch where Clara
les. The lamp is extinguished, but
he is lying wide awake in the dark
les. She is thinking of that new
light in the eye, that new tremor in
he voice that accompanied the words
hat so disturbed her to-day. Then
he forgot poor Charley Moore, and
Ter thoughts turned to another. Who
S it? Owen? No; it is Jimmy San
lers. Look at her now. The happy
mile, the soft, love-lit eyes are telling
tale to US who are watching her in
he dark. She is thinking how that
ager, hopeful gleam would look in
lis eyes; how that pleading thrill
would sound in his voice, and her little
cart throbs and futters till she al
most gasps for breath.
The Sabbath dawned clear, bright,
ool-a perfectly lovely day. Break
asst is always late on Sunday, where it
$ prepared by colored cooks, and fam
lies in the South are so accustomed
o late rising on that day, that it is
ne Of their institutions.
When Clara came to the table and
ook her accustomed seat, there was an
nwonted shyness in her manner. Her
yes had less of merriment and more
f pensiveness. Her voice was lower
nd softer, and vibrated less frequent
7 with the impulse of laughter. Even
er father noticed the change and
sked her if she was not we'll. She
lushed little as she answered "Yes."
Charley Moore stole a glance at her
nd felt troubled. He feared she was
ispleased with him. He ought have
nown she was too young for wooing.