The Press., 1902-11-20

1uue1lDI0 SOFL. IL was now time for the elder sister to act. She brushed Miss Ellen aside and laid her hand on the pole.
 T ordered it." she said. q paid for it, and I paid for its settin' up. You may bring it in and set it where show you"
 Miss Ellen turned abruptly and went into the house. She climbed to the gar ret and got the large brown satchel that her father had owned. Then she gathered together few articles of clothing and the dearest of her own special treasures and keepsakes and put them into the bag. This done, she marched out of the front door, satchel in hand, and started for the village depot Miss Jane was in the back yard experimenting the erection of the faGpole and did not notice her sisters departure.
 Miss Ellen reached the depot and sat down in the vacant ladies' waiting room She had not the slightes* idea where she was going. There was no relative to whom she could flee from her sisters tyranny. She thought that
 
 direction and travel until evening. Then she would stop at some hotel and spend the night. After nights sleep perhaps she would know what to do.
 1t was late in the forenoon when Miss Ellen reached the depot. The sta ton agent had gone to dinner, and his office was locked up. Noon came, then half past 12, and still no train and no station agent. Miss Ellen fastened her distracted mind upon the situation and presently remembered that no train stopped at Lyndonville between Ill o'clock a. m. and half past p. m. What would the station agent think when he came back and found her there?
 She went to the window and looked back up the hill toward the village. Between Putnam's blacksmith shop and the store she could just see on the other side of the village street the low ly roof of the cottage where she and her sister had dwelt for forty years. Something white and slender was just wayering up behind it. It rose higher and higher and finally stood firm and straight, and Miss Ellen saw that it was the top of the new f1agpole. Jane, then, was still busy with her triumph. She had not discovered her sisters de- parture, or perhaps she did not care.
 Miss Ellen went back to her seat with tears in her eyes. From where she sat she could look into the ticket office through the locked glass window, and on the wall facing her she saw a steel engraving of Abraham Lincoln. How wildly it brought up the days of the civil war, when her younger broth CT had marched away with the first regiment of Vermont volunteers! The tears rained faster down her cheeks as the flood of memory swept her far ther and farther away from her own petty grievance. She remembered the crushing news from the front; the bringing home of her brothers dear, torn body; the picture of Abraham Lincoln which they found hidden in his bosom; the funeral ill the village church, with the picture of Lincoln, wreathed in flowers, lying on the dead soldiers breast, and around him and the martyr president were wrapped the folds of the stars and stripes!
 Again Miss Ellen rose and went to the window, A cheer swept faintly down the hill. There was flag flying from the new fagpole over the cot tage. Patriotism-had she none of it in her loyal heart, and she the sister of such a patriot as the soldier boy who slept under the faded Memorial day flag in the village cemetery? With sob Miss Ellen caught up her satchel and breasted the hill. "Jane was right" she whispered. Il am glad she got the fagpole and the flag. Dear Robert! It was my flag raising too. If hearts feeling counts for anything, it was my flag raising toow