The Jennings daily record., 1902-12-24
HER BRIEF
HOUR OF TRIUMPH
A ROMANCE OF THE HoP-FlELDs.
BY MARGUERITE sTABLER.
Ie ~ Az, Mollie." said Nolan, in

an Ou-0a0O m00Qer,
whats that fellow In the
leggings doin' up here?"
The sun had passed the meridian
and the shadows We e beginning to
fall ON Nolan's side. The hop-field code
Of courtesy demands that when man
is picking with a ''lady" he give her
always the shady side. But Nolan. in
his perturbation of mind, forgot his
manners.
Mollie, feeling the rays pelting down
upon her head, and remembering the
thoughtfulness of the fellow in the
leggings in pulling the fullest vines
down on her side.
"Say, Mollie," asked Nolan. persua-
eively, after a half-hOur's silence, dur
ing which time several couples had
changed sides so that the girl might
have the benefit Of the shade. "what
was he hangin' round you all mornin'
for?"
''Nothin'" The black eyes were
stubbornly glued to their work, while
beads of perspiration stood out on the
round, tanned cheeks.
Thereafter. vine after vine was
reached and stripped in oppressive
silence. At length, after having de-
cided to adopt course Of moody
silence, which should break the
naughty spirit of this girl, and make
her hang upon his slightest word,
Nan heard himself say, before he
new 1t. In tender. coaxing tones:
seay, Mollie, what was he talkin' to
you about, anyway"
''Nothin'!" Mollie's chin went into
the air and her lips snapped together
like the blades of a Jack knife. The
beads of perspiration had grown into
etvulets that trickled from nose to
hin, and spiashed into the basket.
7 The foreman of the field rode by sew
eE1l times, and noticed gratefully there
was less talking and more work being
done between the two than usual,
and when at last the shadows grew so
long 1t did not matter which side Of
the row she was on. and the sun began
to redden behind bank of smoke and
dust the joyful sound of the quitting
bell pealed over the fields.
! Arms just lifted to reach a vine,
hands in the act of stripping a branch,
fingers just crooked to pick Il last
hop, stopped and fell empty at the
Spund Of that first tap The unhappy
Nolan could not stop his thoughts so
ickly, nor resist a last appealing.
SSay, Mollie. what's the matter with
Jou, anyway"
= But the maid only threw defiant
"Nothin'!" over her shoulder as she
was Joined at the end Of the row by q
tall fellow in leggings. The black eyes
aost their defiance, the lips rippled into
smiles as she pushed her sun-bonnet
back and looked up into the laughing
face under the sombrero.
low said. half to himself, as he
watched the pickels filing by-China-
men. Indians, Japs. and whites of ev-
cry brand and all sorts of conditions.
There was the Objectionable element
of "hobos." of course. in plentitude.
but the majority Of the pickers were
the men who, after harvesting their
own meagre little hay crops. packed
their wagons. loaded in their families,
whistled to their dogs. and started off
for three or four weeks camp in the
hop With these families it is
a regular Institution. and the one in
Heresting occasion Of the year. Here
new acquaintances are made. foot-h
gossip exchanged for tule district scan
dals, flirtations and romances spring
UP. flourish. and die. with the hops,
and most of the back country bellies
date their social debut from the Sat
urday night dances.
Mollie stole one-sded glance at
the fellow in the lesgings. and took
III every detail as his eyes followed the
crowd. She held her head just trife
higher than usual when familiar faces
looked up and saw her chatting with
this stylish looking fellow in the cor
durOy knickers. In fact, when some
of her Coon Greek friends came along,
she found it inconvenient to look their
way. for'she felt that in refined society
ir Hello Mol!' would not be con
sidesed good form.
How long have you worked here?"
the tall fellow asked her. shortening his
stride to fall in with her little trip
Mollie. delighted to be called upon
for information. gurgled out everything
she knew about the hop-fields; the ad-
vantage of being paid by the piece
instead Of the day. the amount the
average picker could make day, the
weighing in the baskets. the processing
in the kiln. the pressing and baling.
and the joys of the dance given every
Saturday night. Adding for she could
scarcely believe this distinguished-look-
Ing parsonage could be common
picker. like Mike Nolan and Pinny
ASmith. ana the rest of them: care
rou visiting at Hoptown?"
" mo" the fellow laughed "I'm q cit