The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1902-04-02

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he had prolonged the farce after he
had began wooing of herself. 1t was
a feeling akin to resentment against
him, in justice to herself.
When he entered the parlor few
hours later, he knew at once that
something was wrong and Kate lid
not leave him long In doubt. She told
him the whole story, only Withholding
the name of her informant. She kept
back her tears, too, and the effort
made her voice hard. She waited for
him to speak when she had finished
and II they had been sitting nearer to
each other would have touched his
hand
said that Seth Gray was proud. and
II ever a proud man was humiliated
that man was himself. No other proof
than her own voice could have made
him think that this young woman
could believe for a moment such n
base falsehood against his manhood.
The feeling of deep injury and iniig.
nation was uppermost in his mind.
without word he rose and turned
to go. At the door he paused an in.
slant to look at her; then there was a
quick. firm step on the gravel walk.
the gate shut noisily, and he was gone.
From that night Kate never saw Seth
Gray again.
Never saw him again? How many
times she saw him in that doorway.
when the cat was purring contentedly
on the rug and the little earthenware
teapot was singing cheerfully on the
hearth, only Miss Kate knew. How
many times that last reproachful
glance looked in upon her during the
lonely nights of the long years that
followed, when the whole bitter truth
was before her, only Miss Kate knew.
How utterly dreary the tidy little par.
lor was at times during the long. long
hours, when the thought of that last
night came back TO her; how often the
soft gray eyes wept bitterly when she
thought of the wrong that she hal
done him, and that she could never
undo now, Miss Kate and only Miss
Kate knew.
And that was the story of her ro-
nance. A late train, westbound, car.
ried Seth Gray away that night. She
lived her life as best she could. and be.
fore her little world the thorns in her
path were trodden unfinchingly.
Whenever a womans hand was need
ed. there was Miss Kate; wherever
chatirable duties was the hardest, in
the coldest winters, among the worst
class of people; there was Miss Kate;
and although her purse was not a
large one it was open constantly.
think that It was this constant do.
ing of good, this never ceasing heal
ing of bodies. minds and hearts. that
kept the hard lines off her face. even
when the early gray strands glisten.
ed in her brown hair.
II there was one weakness for which
she had no compassion, it was the
weakness of drunkenness. If there
were any medicants that left her door
empty handed they were those who
went there with the fumes of alcohol
on the breath. Truly the drunkard in
her eyes was detestable.
And so the summers and the win.
ters passed until the time came when
Miss Kate had become an old maid be.
yond dispute. New lives came into
the little town and old lives went out.
Girls in pinafores and small boys in
trousers grew to be women and men.
married and set up for themselves;
but to Miss Kate one year was but q
repetition of another and 1t sometimes
seemed to her that she was contin.
ually going around in circle that hal
long since become monotonous.
If Mis- Kate ever thought that she
might have made her life happier, she
guraded the thought well; and II the
smiling matrons ever occasioned the
slightest envy in her breast they
could as easily have learned it from
the exterior of the neat cottage as
from its prime mistress.
One wntery March morning she
started out, with a basket on her arm.
to visit sick family, and she noticed
a small crowd of men and boys short
distance from her gate. The gibes
that reached her ears and the incohcr-
ent profanity that followed, told her
that drunken man was the center of
the group.
She knew that she would be Obliged
to pass them. but with the determine
tion not to be deferred from her pur-
pose by such an unworthy cause, she
held her head trifle higher. involun-
tarily drew her skirts closer about her.
and walked on. AS she neared the
group she saw that the man was reel.
ing; he was a wretched looking Great
ure, with unkempt beard and much
worn clothing. She gave him one look
and the basket dropped from her arm.
She walked straight up to him, laid
her hand on his frayed sleeve and led
him to her own gate, up the gravel
walk and into the old parlor, which
was looking very comfortable this cold
morning.
She cried over him and bathed his
face with cold water, and finally cook
ed him the 'daintiest breakfast imagin-
able. Who would have thonght 1t of