The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1902-05-30


On sped the strange trio, the red
oxen and the man in white, past the
Bukeleys, past the Days, past the
Traintors, past the GOodspeeds, past
the Bills; then a sharp turn to the left,
and they were in the lane that led to
the graveyard. BY some lucky chance
the cemetery gate was open, and, with
a final hurting of the innocuous feather
duster and a volley of small stones al
most as harmless, he drove the bovine
marplots into the graveyard, closed the
gate securely and retraced his steps to
the highway.
He now for the first time realized
that he was full half mile from
home, and while it was night and he
was clad in the garments of the night
season, still South Hanaford society
would not have received him in such
habiliments.
But fortune favored him, inasmuch
as it was 10 o'clock and all Hanaford
was asleep. All Hanaford? No. There
was one who was not yet asleep, one
who was driving toward him in cov-
cred buggy. Who could there be pro-
flaming the little end of the Sabbath in
this fashion? 1t looked like the Hard
ing team. Well, he wasn't afraid of
old Nelson Harding, and, besides, there
was no place to hide. He was on a
perfectly open, treeless, level stretch
of road.
AS he walked boldly along, using the
feather duster as a cane, something
about the harness broke, and the
horse, walking half way out Of the
shafts, stopped as a quarter century's
hardening to mishaps had taught him
to do.
With a little scream the occupant Of
the buggy essayed to jump from the
high box and, tripping, fell to the
ground.
But it was not Nelson Harding, but
-merciful heavens, Miss Grayson! She
lay where she had fallen, as if stunned,
but when Trueman ran toward her she
sat up, glanced at him and screamed
again.
care you hurt" asked he, and she,
after her second scream, acted as if it
were quite the ordinary thing for Han
afford men to take nocturnal rambles in
cotton robes. She rose to her feet and
answered him calmly, mo; am not a
bit hurt, but don't in the least know
what to do.'
Trueman stepped over to the wagon
and saw that the whiffietree had bro
ken and had released one of the traces.
SIS there a rope in the wagon?" said
he.
eyes, the tie line" she answered.
"That will do. I'll fix you up so you
can get the wagon home, and if you
don't care to ride in it I'll drive it and
you can walk. It's such a little dis
tance."
Oh, how pretty she did look, so fresh!
That little wave of hair that had loosed
itself from its fellow locks was so raw
ishing! What an inspiriting thought
that he could be of real service to such
a beautiful girl! If he could be sure
that she was fond of flowers!
He took the rope, and, with the help
of his now truly valuable feather dus-
ter he fashioned a new end to the Whit
fietree and slipped the traces end over
the handle While he worked at it and
she watched him with an admiring in
terest. for he was singularly deft with
his hands, he suddenly said:
Miss Grayson, | meant to ask you
the other night if you were fond of
flowers"
81 adore them," she replied, with fer
vor.
Have you ever seen my gardenT
Not near to. l noticed it as I was
driving by on Friday. 1t is beautiful,
and Mrs. Harding says you laid it out
yourself"
81 always do. I'd like you to come
and see it-not now-With Mrs. Hard
ing"
Then he remembered that the oxen
had done for his garden, and he stam-
mered: "Oh, forgot! It's ruined. The
oxen ate it up.'
'The oxen ate it up?" said she after
him. 1t now struck her for the first
time that perhaps he was crazy. He
certainly had on very crazy costume.
certainly was, this cotton robe and the
lonely looking carpet slipper of vene-
tian red would not have been becoming
to him, but even his touseled hair be-
came him, and he would have looked
handsome in anything. But why was
he out so late on so cool a night with
such inadequate clothing?
There; that'il last until you get
home" said he. He took the reins and
climbed into the wagon. He stubbed
his bare toe on the step, and the pain
was excrucatiug for a moment, but
his face did not show it.
"I'll drive slowly, and you can walk.
l don't suppose you care to ride" said
he.
mo; I'd rather walk" said she.
How kind he was. but how peculiar!
She did hope that no one would be
looking out. 1t would seem so queer.
He gazed at her fondly from the seat
as the old horse began to walk slowly
along. He drew the lap robe over his
knees. 1t was getting cool.
"Miss Grayson. have you-have you
ever thought seriously about mar
riage?"
mot since l was a child" said she,
laughing, she knew not why.
"Then you haven't ceased to think of
it," he said and realized that it wasn't
exactly what he had meant to express.