The Tupelo journal., 1903-01-02

Ian and Pinny Smith. and the rest
Of them: Are you visiting at Hop
tcwn?"
"No." the fellow laughed, I'm "a
citizen if | can stand these beastly
hours. For the next few weeks I'm
a o of the soil in order to fill up NV
Golfers for the next semester" This
fellow relished the dilating power of
the black eyes beside him, and Mol
lie, having studied short primer and
chemistry, felt herself on an intel
lectual level with this college senior.
Before picking time the next morn
ing it was thoroughly understood by
all the tenters on Mollie's side of the
field that Nolan's race was run, and
that Mollie had a new STEADY" from
below" as the southern counties
are termed by the inhabitants of the
northern.
Nolan, his wrath cooled by a nights
repose, became awar of this fact
when he waited at the usual trysting
place by the first row of poles, and
saw the tan sombrero looming UP in
the wake of the blue sun-bonnet.
The rest of the day he was pursued
by the cheerful jibes of his friends
about being thrown down for a city
guy" Poor Mike, even his daunt-
less good humor went down under
their clumsy efforts at consolation.
But Mike Nolan was not the only
n suddenly effaced from the girls
tickle memory. There were Pinny,
and Spike, and Big Terry, into whose
young and susceptible hearts her
black eyes had burned big holes, now
not even seen when they passed her
on the row.
The eyes under the sombrero lost
nothing of the situation. This little
girl was undoubtedly pretty after a
sort of wild-rose type, and certainly
was the only one in the field who
could help to make the long hot days
endurable to him. Her eyes had Il
way of widening when he talked to
her, which was highly agreeable to
him, and he spared no opportunity
to produce that effect. Her cheeks,
too, had a frank little way of going
pink-sometimes red-when the al
fusion was direct enough-and alto
gsther her open admiration put a fine
gid edge on his self-esteem.
as it possible you have never been
to San Francisco?" he asked her one
day.
No, I've never been there" she
admitted, alphabetically, but" she
FASTENED to add, in order to dispeI
any idea of rusticity that admission
might have given, 1--WE been twice to
Red Bluff, and we live only nine miles
from Coon Creek"
Have you ever thought you might
like to live there?" he pursued, reach
ing up to pull down a cut vine from
the pole. His glance was very direct
this time, and his tones full of mean
ing. 1t was pretty to see her eyes
and cheeks glow with a deeper hue.
SO intent was he on noting the eff
feet he could produce with the slight
est touch. He did not wait for an
answer, but went on. 'Wouldn't you
like
But just then the Sacramento train
Numbered by on the trestle, drown
ing his words, but not the look in
his eyes. And on the heels of that,
the noon bell rang, at which every
body quit work. and they walked
up to the settlement together in 81
lence-little Mollie's feet touching
the ground only in high places, her
foolish little head way up in the
clouds, the mans thoughts miles
away from the scene about him, and
the hope of his heart centered on
getting on the varsity football team.
By the end of the season Miss Mol
lies social circle had narrowed down
to few more than her own family,
and one tall man. She had discovered
her tastes to be of the climbing va
riety, and had reached the fatal con-
clusion that not one of her old
friends at Coon Creek possessed a
particle of culture or style. And
when, before dispensing for another
year, the pickers prepared to give a
grand ball in honor of the wind-up
of the hop season., Mollie determined
to show them the size of the gulf
that now yawned between herself
and them.
These hop-pickers' dances are open
to every one, SO there are not many
lines of social distinction drawn. The
men exchange their bandana neck
'kerchiefs for stiff celluloid collars,
and the girls wash out a sprigged
lawn frock, and are radiant and ready
for the frolic. But Mollie, with a
reckless slash into her summers
earnings, burst upon the scene, on
the eventful evening, an animated
aillow of frills, and founces, and
furbelows.
AS the frolic progressed the tall
fellow with his sombrero under his
arm, watched the scene from the
doorway with an amused, wondering
smile. The big dining room that
seated five hundred hungry pickers
three times a day had been trans
formed in less than an hour into a
dancing hall. The tables had been
hoisted to the ceiling by stout bale
ropes, where they were secured to
the rafters, while the shelf that a
the length of the room on both sides
was studded at regular intervals with
empty bottles, into each of which was
stuck a tallow candle.
After the good old-fashioned Gus
tom DiDnu Smith with N u;r1 IN n
yellow frock, led off the grand march,