Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1903-07-07

sGrdyln round mere lately.
She started toward the creek. Then,
with wavering movement, turned
and hurried back to the kitchen.
'You better start eatin'," she called
to Clawson. I'm goin' down to see
il 1 can't see somethin' o. Bobbie.
Don't touch that light pinkish piece
of ham in the skillet; that's fer Bob
bic"
Mrs. Clawson walked with long
strides through the young orchard
When she came to the bank, where
the foot-path descended precipitate-
ly to the creek, she stopped, looking
up, down, across. The water dashed,
foaming, from among tumbled mass
of powders.
She went down the path, brushing
against the willows. At the opening,
where the bushes had been cut away,
she could see the bend. The water
ran swiftly around the low, opposite
bank; broke into a stretch of little,
metallic-like waves. Over there the
trout might be caught by the hun
dred in an hour or two.
Mrs. Clawson thought she heard a
laugh, shrill and happy, above the
bubbling and chatter and roar of the
creek.
Then she saw a young girl throw up
line, on which dangled a frantic
fish. Near by, her son stood, his
hands in his pockets, laughing.
Mary Longs girl!
The same golden-red hair; the same
vivid coloring in the cheeks and lips;
the same dark, luminous eyes.
Bobbie was now taking the fish off
the hook-not changing his gaze,
which she knew was tender, from the
face of Mary Longs girl.
Mrs. C1awson watched the young
girl as she scrambled onto the bank,
trying to catch the writhing and leap
ing trout. She noted the soft, pretty
outlines Of the girls figure as she
swayed forward to throw the fish out
into the middle of the stream. She
saw the coquetry of Miss Longs de-
mure return to her sons side: the
challenge in her glance up to his.
But when he put his arms around
her she turned deliberately and
stamped firmly up the path.
Mr.. and Mrs. Clawson sat on the
back porch. 1t was growing dark.
Mt. Sanhedrin twas mere blur against
the sky; the entrance to the little
arbor, over which the wild hop-vine
rioted, was fading into the general
dimness.
For half an hour no word had been
spoken. At last C1awson, summoning
up courage, said: Il didn't think
you'd let him git so far, mother, as to
be upstairs there alone pacl1in' his
things"
81 didn't know you ever did any
thin1in' on any subject, Hi Clawson,"
she replied. A tear, of which she
took no notice, coursed it's way down
her thin cheek.
Silence reigned for several minutes.
Then Mrs. Clawson said in sad mon
otone: "Guess you'd better hitch up
the blackboard now; it always takes
you s'iong to do anything. The stage
starts from Longs at eight o'clock;
it's about seven now"
Mother" Clawson said, "you amt
surely goin' to let our boy go away
without is supper"
She answered his impertinence
with a stony stare.
"You jest hitch up now, Hi. I'll
cook you up a bite after-after he
some time tonight
To be misunderstood always made
ClawsOn finch, embarrassed, as from
a blow. He rose slowly, moving off
the porch with uncertain step.
Tears began to rain down Mrs
Clawson's face.
Presently she heard her son com
ing down the stairs. Her attention
followed his step as he strobe into
the parlor; then crossed the hall to
the spare room. Her hearts pulse
began to quicken as he came, hesti-
tatingly, towards the door at her ell
scraping over the floor noisily.
Her son sprang past her to the
edge of the porch, where he crouched
down, bracing his head against a
small, upright post.
Mother" he said, I'm going away.
But I'm not going away angry. I love
Hattie Long, can't stay where
there's so much bitterness against
my future wife's folks
Mrs. Clawson muttered, as if to
herself. "Of all people in the world!
An fer us, in state a thousand
miles long, to set ourselves right
down mex to 'em! On piece of
mortgaged property, tol Never car
ing thing about us, until they need
ed our water"
She shifted contemptuously; then
fell into a brooding silence.
The sound of wheels presently
reached Mrs. Clawson's acute ears,
She noted the grating noise as the
wheels scraped along over the broken
stone; and she recalled how her son,
only yesterday, had spent the morn
ing filling in the ruts near the bro
ken-limbed pear tree.
Mrs. Clawson's hands were icy: her
Nl