Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1903-05-06
READ IN THE
FLAMES
%. BY Mary Wood
Copyright, 1907, by McCiure's Newspaper
Syndicate

Katie was u wild, awkward slip of a
girl who wept salt tears when her des-
tiny was unfolded. She never, never
would go off to that eastern college.
She would die of homesickness. Mrs.
Bergen quite melted at the picture, but
her husband was firm. 1t was best
for her to go, and go she did.
But the energy that had made her
childhood perilous one flowed read
lily into the new channels. The first
month found her contented, the second
enthusiastic. The letters which told
Of quizzes, exams and profs grew more
and more unintelligible to the two old
people. She was living in world in
to which they could not enter. Even
as they thrilled with pride in her at
tainments they felt a strange pang, as
If their tirstborn were being gradually
stolen and changeling left in her
place.
What with the weary length of the
four winters, the brevity of the sum-
mer vacations and their inevitable alb
sorption In visits to college chums they
felt that the week after commence
ment brought her back to them almost
a stranger
She was certainly no longer the little
Katie who had gone away in tears.
Miss Katharyn Bergen was a tall self
possessed young woman who wore eye
glasses and clothes of a masculine cut.
Mr.. Bergen was secretly aggrieved
at sight of the eyeglasses. when she
had the maxim of such pretty girl"
he said mournfully to himself, "an'
mother an l havin' such good sight at
price to pay for learning.
Mrs. Bergen was shocked by her
daughters taste in clothes. Her stiff
collars and hideous vests, the scanti-
ness and brevity of her skirts and her
pronounced fancy for shoes of the
most broad toed and thick soled varie-
ty were all thorns in the motherly
bosom. She was, however, a woman
Of discretion. She recognized in her
daughter much of a certain obstinacy
which long familiarity with Mr.. Ber-
gen had taught her to respect. So she
made no comment on the distressing
changes.
What she did not say Scotville did.
katharyn was more than nine days
wonder; she was a perpetual volcano.
She had lost none of her original ener-
gy; rather 1t had increased by prac-
tice. The town needed to be uplifted,
and her hand was ready for the work.
So Scotville was introduced to that
new creation, a woman with a pur-
pose, and was not overpleased. Her
old girl friends detected an undercur-
rent of patronizing in all her advances
and refused to enthuse over her.
The men who had been boon compan-
Ions in her tomb0y days declared that
a jolly good fellow had been changed
into prig and voted her schemes for
elevation as all tommyrot. She scan
dalized the old minister who had bap-
tized her when a baby by her open
avowal of agnostic beliefs.
Jack Selwyn tried in vain to stem
the rising tide of antagonism but then
every one knew 1t was only because he
was too loyal to desert his old sweet
heart Jack had not been able to go to
college. There were the young broth
ers and sisters to whom he had to play
a fathers part. So he had turned to
work as an antidote for longing for the
unattainable and was now Mr.. Ber-
gems right hand man. 1t was even
whispered that his employer would
have been glad to welcome nearer re-
lationship
1t seemed, however, that Katharyn
had no memory Of the promises whis-
pered by a certain Katie. To be sure,
there had been a look in her face when
he greeted her on her day of home
coming that had sent his heart up into
his throat. Perhaps 1t was not as he
had feared; she had not grown beyond
his reach. But the succeeding days
had brought only disillusionment. The
girl smarting under the almost uni
versal rebuffs of her we'll meant eff
forts, classed him ruthlessly among
the ranks of her opponents.
If she missed their old time conf
dences, their happy talks on men and
books, she gave no sign. Instead she
withdrew more closely into herself.
Her rooms We're on the ground floor
of the Bergen homestead. There she
sat and read or mused bitterly long
after she had said "Good night" From
her windows the lawn sloped down
gently to the river Often when her
head grew weary she would slip out
quietly to breathe the freshness of the
night.
One evening the moonlight had lured
her from her books. The strains of
violin came, softened by distance. All
Scotville was at a dance-all but she,
and she had refused. Her paltry ex-
cuse had been that she and her mother
had promised to spend the night at an
old aunt's in the country during her
fathers absence on a business trip,
but sudden indisposition had kept
them from going, and now Katharyn
hurried down the river path, as if to
escape the witching sound.
She had wandered farther than she
knew when cry broke the stiffness: