The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1902-02-07
All for the Love
of a Girl
Bv JAMES N. FREER.

A WOMAN, tall and straight. whose
II face was hidden by shaw
thrown over her head, was walking
down the "Ramper," the raised road
which ran straight as stretched
string across Suffer marsh.
1t was the dull dusk of an autumn
evening, and raw wind from the sea
moaned across the flats and caused
Selma Pritchett to put her wrap closer
about her face.
Presently, far in the distance. the
girl discerned figure outlined against
the fading yellow of the evening sky
She gave shrill call:
Joe! Joe!'
The man stopped and looked round.
Selma pressed on and soon joined
him. He met her with outstretched
hands. and kiss passed between the m.
"Joe, 1 came out on purpose to see
you. l wanted to speak to you where
no one could ever hear u.s.
IL reckon we're safe enough here.
lass" smiled the man. "There's not
a soul'll venture within mile o us.
Folk don't love the 'Ram per' on night
like this
But neither of the m noticed a rustic
in the tall dead reeds which fringed the
narrow road or in the quick gather
ing gloom pale face, which appeared
ghostlike above the heavy screen.
Ibid you hear the dykes finished.
Joe?" Selma spoke with concentrated
bitterness.
aye, lass, know it, Joe responded,
shortly.
"And next summer they say all the
marsh will be inclosed and parceled out
with fences
Eyes. I've heard that, too. IT'S a
wicked job
"Wicked! Wicked! I tell you, Joe,
father will be ruined man. Where'll
be any grazing for the cows or the
geese? Where'll he shoot any wild
fowl? Where can we cut reeds for
matching or turf for fuel? Why, we
shall starve!'
mot while I live" broke in Joe.
Tel you what. lass, when we're mar
led We'll move out Of this country and
20 BACK 10 my olu E)ldCe.
"What, and leave father here to
starye!' the girl fla med out. Not me;
md I'll tell you what, Joe Reave, WOW
{ will never marry you without we can
settle here in our Old home. 0, l only
wish | were a man! I'd DO something
20 stop these commissioners at their
wicked work"
The man, big. heavy fellow that he
vas. quailed a her fury.
"What would you do?" he asked at
ength.
"Do? Why, I'd shoot old Squire
)uckett He's the head Of it all. Or
10. III tel you what l would do, joe"
she spoke now more quietly, but with
intense emphasis. "This is what I'd
10. Wait for flood and cut the dyke"
"You don't mean that, Selina?"
'asped Joe.
"You wait and see if DON'T she re-
,lied.
Joe seized both her hands and gazed
traight in her face. The figure behind
he reeds craned it's head forward to
listen.
"You shame me, lass" Joe said. his
ather heavy face ighted up with a
,assion of admira ton. Its what we
hould have thought O. long ago. Wait,
IL do it, see if don't.'
Selma looked up at him a moment.
here was no doubt he meant what he
aid.
every well, joe" she said. 1.-THE day
fter the water runs back over our
larsh lands, that day III marry you.
md now | must go home. Father'll be
;aiting for his supper Good night
The figure in the reeds shrank back
nd hid itself as the lovers parted.
elina walked sharply homewards to
here, across the flats, shone a faint
ght from the cottage. Joe strobe
long with long, swinging steps in the
pposte direction.
When he was out of sight the man
'ho had been in hiding crawled from
is concealment up on to the IRA mper"
nd shook his fist in the direction the
( Their had disappeared.
"Ah! my fine fellow" he growled,
18th an ugly laugh. 81 have you now.
sure as my names Vane Merritt, I'll
even with you.'
:, The facts of the case were these:
the year 1867 an agitation was on
DOT amongst the farmers and land
wners of the coast to drain the i'm
Aense marshes which stretched in one
aonotonous level miles and miles
long the bleak coast of the sea, and
1hich for centuries the sea had in
!: AIDED and swamped in every winter
form. Rich in themselves, these lands
y Fere rendered valueless by the inroads
I f salt water.
+. / Yet, to the marsh men, or "slodgers,"