The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1902-08-29
ROMANCE OF A ROSE.


| ~, MIS-. Drown, maven you IOOIu lOI
one more boarder?" cried Mrs. Newton,
busting out on the porch, with letter in
her hand. 'Hes a friend of Mr.. Newton"
she continued, without pausing Mrs. New
ton was never known to wait for reply,
"an architect from Chicago, who wishes to
spend his vacation on farm. A crazy idea,
isn't it-except for people with children
as she glanced at the little group on the
lawn.
Mrs Newton chartered on, but the young
woman seated on the step heard no more.
"a crazy idea, she said to herself; ''but
Mrs. Brown is so kind to me-besides | can
not afford-anyway, couldn't--O, we'll"
She resolutely brought herself back to cur
rent affairs, almost hoping to be bored as
punishment for her lapse from her usual
sensible state of mind.
whats his name?" Mrs Brown was
saying.
"Adoniram Strong, formidable one"
laughed Mrs. Newton. But again the
girl was deaf to her voice. Names often set
her to thinking. There was a reason for it.
Besides, this was an unusual name. Laugh
ably formidable to Mrs. Newton. AS
for her, she liked the sound. Cromwell and
Napoleon puritan and knight, strength and
tenderness, force and faith, were in it.
Then, with half cynical smile, she said to
herself "a misnomer, probably"
Mrs. Newton returned to the parlor and
Mrs. Brown went on with her work. The
girl still sat on the step, looking across the
field of corn to the blue of the little Wiseon-
sin lake.
For years her home had been in the city
How she loved to recall those childhood
days! She loved to think of her father,
strong, honest John Budd and of her
mother, the frail, clinging creature whom
her father had regarded as finer clay than
himself and had cared for 50 tenderly; the
dreaming, sentimental little woman who
gave her baby the name Rose, because Rose
| Budd would be such a sweet name So it
might have been-for her mother. But for
her! She never for a moment doubted that
she was plain. Certainly she was not of the
rosebud variety. She was tall-and angu-
lar, too, she feared. Her complexion was
still Of gypsy BROWNIES. Her hair was so
straight Her hands were neither small nor
white Her dark brown eyes were beau
tiful, but she did not know that, and had
she been told would only have said, "one
! swallow does not make a summer"
Adoniram Strong remained forgotten I'M
! til one afternoon, a few days later, when
she walked into the parlor and found there
with Mr.. Newton a stranger, who was in
| troduced as "Mr. Strong" Rose noticed
that she did not have to look up into his
eyes-but then she was tall What beau
tiful blue eyes they werei The light brown
| hair had been smoothly brushed, but had
crept loose about the temples in bewitching
ringlets The delicate fair complexion and
! the curve of the mouth might have been
the envy of any girl. Rose noticed one re-
deeming feature--the> firm chin, which
seemed, she thought, out of keeping with
that girlish loneliness. She sat opposite him
at supper. She wished she could forget
their names-she did so want to laugh.
''He is Adoniram Strong" she thought,
"and am Rose Budd!"
Weeks passed. These two learned many
things about each other She learned that
his appearance was his cross. The hair was
painfully brushed into obediont sickness,
but the moment one lock was rufiied up it,
would obstinatey curl. Sun and wind were
courted, but the result was a distressing
red instead of the coveted brown. She
learned that the girhsh prettiness, rather
than the strong chin, was out of keeping.
He learned that not only her eyes but her
brown complexion and her soft hair were
beautiful; that her nose was not too large
to betoken ability, and her other features
were not bad: that she was well educated;
that the world of books was hers; that she
was tenderhearted that she was so witty
as to make him look to his laurels-and it
was seldom he found any one who could
! meet and parry his keen wit.
Then came the fourth of July. The day
was too warm for demonstrative patriotism,
| Strong said. In the afternoon, however, his
patriotic feelings demanded a drive, with
| Miss Budd as companion The hired man
was celebrating in the town, and perhaps
| Strong did not use his customary "jedg-
ment" regarding horses. The one selected
was rather excitable for a fourth OF July
drive. There was the ubiquitous small boy
with frecrackers and it may be there was
careless driving. No one could tell just how
it happened. A cannon cracker, fright
ened horse, lost rein, dash over stone,
and the driver hurled from the buggy. The
Young lady did the sensible thing, of course,
although she did not know what she was
doing. She staid in the vehicle, in some way
caught the reins, and stopped the running
horse by turning him into fence. a
! splintered board scratched her face and
gashed her shoulder The men who came to
| her aid thought her badly hurt. She hur
ried from them and ran crying along the
road, back to where she had seen him fall,
unmindful Of blood and pain. He had been
carried into a house. He lay white and
still. She lluelt beside him.
DEAREST" she cried, again and again,
"speal to me. Look at me, It is ], your
Rose" She rubbed the hands, and brushed
the dust from the curls, and kissed the face
all the while begging him to speak to her,
The doctor came Don't fret he said;
''he'll be all right in a few minutes She
could not believe it; but soon he opened his
ewes Then he sat up and saw her-dusty,
disheveled, bloody. "You are hurt he
gasped. What had she been saying. She
was angry with herself, with every one
most OF all with him INC" She said seorn-
fully, 'I'm not hurt. But you tainted,
didn't you? Wen take you home, and let
you lie on the soia!"