The Lexington intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1901-1949, 1902-03-08

girls. 4 wCnClr whose felce thsi
was? It sounded like-5ut what rea-
son have | think that?"
Maybe he didn't have any reasonto
think it, but vague, tender hope rose
above reason. "Mary"-what a pref
ty name it was, he thought. MARY
Manning-Kinney.7 So timid was
this big, strong man that he actually
blushed at his own audacity when he
coupled her name with his. MARY
Manning Kinney"-it kept ringing
in his spiritual ear Ike the melody of
a fayorite song. When the last issue
of The Sansamon Boy was run off and
Josh Kinney crept into bed a host Of
sentimental fancies kept him awake
until far into the morning, and then
wove themselves into the fabric Of his
dreams.
Mary Manning was the only daugh-
ter of the richest farmer in Lower
Corners, and the one girl in the conf
munity who had tossed aside the blue
bonnet Of the district school and be-
come a seminary girl abroad. She
saw in Kinney somethingmor than a
clod, something higher than the
creator Of a weekly rural paper. She
respected him for his wide fund Of
information, for his rugged sincerity,
for his physical and mental power.
She-but she herself could not have
told by what process she came to hold
a tender regard for this modest giant
among pygmies. Possibly it was be-
cause he vas at once SO gentle and so
strong.
Lower Corners was suspicious
enough about most things, but i did
not stop to give the subject a second
thought when Josh Kinney took Mary
Manning home after choir practice.
He was just the bass singer and she
the organist, and Of course he would
not let her 60 unprotected. Lower
Corners thought he was accommodate
ing, that was all, and so he reckoned
with himself as the Friday nights
came and went, but the volley of
Snowballs chung to his memory when
the wild flowers bloomed in the wood,
and so did Mary Manning's earnest
protest.
Would she protest also when he
should tell her of his longing, of his
love? You, gentle reader, know she
would not, and Josh made bold
enough one night, when the moon
light was glowing on the hills, to find
out for himself. 1t was not for 9th
ers to know what he said.
Not necessarily for publication,
but just as an evidence of good faith"
said Josh long after, when twitted
about it.
There came another night when the
moon was not shining. The little
office vas as dark as the great world
outside and as quiet. 1t was Thurs
day night, and the hand press was
still. That seemed strange to pass
ers-by on the road. They were used
to hearing the stray clack Of the press
on that night long after ~. If they
had observed closely they might pos
sibly have zen that the door was
standing wide open, and that over it
was a square Waite patch Of some
thing.
The next day-ah, what a Friday
that was for Lower Cornersl Ii has
been written in great big letters into
the history of the n~eighborhood. By
some freak Of fortune or misfortune
John Manning was the first man to
ride down the road past Kinney's Of
fee. The sun was just lifting its red
disk over the cornfelds TO the east.
He was whistling his fayorite tune
the one he had learned in the old DAYS
when he wooed and won Nancy Cor
win. He spied the bit of paper over
Kinney's open doorway. He passed
through the latticed gate and up the
hill TO the cabin. There he adjusted
his spectacles and read these words:
''To Subscribers: Walk in and get
your paper; the editor is busy else
where"
Manning, consumed with curiosity
and never bashful about getting what
was coming to him, went in and
picked up a paper from a huge pile
stacked on the Office table. He
glanced over the first page and then
turned to Kinney's editorials-he al.
WAYS liked TO read them even though