Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1903-10-16
WILDA'S CHOICE.
BY MRS. EDWARDS PAINE.
egSM. ~

She saw d team coming rapidly to-
ward her, and thought possibly it
might be her father, but it proved to be
d stranger with a man and a trunk,
fastening toward Haven, probably to
catch the morning train.
Disappointed and discouraged, she
sat down by the roadside to rest. IN
der the shadow of a great elm she
watched and waited for some one to
come by and ask her to ride; but, as
no n came, she plucked up courage,
in spite of the burning sensation in her
feet, and started on.
She judged she had walked about five
miles. and then she began to reflect
again.
II wonder" she asked herself. eff I'm
not folish for undertaking such q walk
as this? .Supposing l didn't keep my
engagement with Walter, what differ
ence would it make? I'm not sure
that he'd care, and / don t believe he'd
go to all this trouble for me. Besides,
what view will he take of it? viii he
think I'm crazy to be with him, or see
the principle involved in it? Welt"
she exclaimed, after a few moments
more of reflections, 1--WE never broken
my word to anybody yet. and I'm not
going to begin with him. / told him
l would surely be home tonight, and
I'm going to keep my word. Oh" she
continued, these feet will be the death
of me-" when she heard a rumble of
wheels approaching her from behind.
She looked around, and to her delight
she recognized Mr.. Cline, an old friend
of her fathers.
"Why, Vida Wrightw he exclaimed,
refining in his horse. "What in the
name Of sense are you doing here this
hot dayT'
Father didn't come after me last
night, so 1 thought I'd walk"
Walk. child! Why, you must be
crazy. Why, it's twelve miles, If it's
an inch"
"Ten, father calls it," replied Wilda.
eyes, by taking some c~ross-cuts. But
what's the stress bout your getting
home? Homesick, eh?" he asked, peer
ing under her straw hat.
mo. not exactly that" said Vida,
prevaricating a little. "But it's been
two weeks since I've been there"
"Well, you're q plucky girl, to say
the least; and if I wasn't in such a
COMPOUNDED hurry to get back with this
cutter-bar, I'd take you clear home.
But you see," he added alphabetically,
"the men can't go on with the haying
until 1 get there"
"Oh, that's all right, Mr.. Cline. /
don't mind it. l can just as we'll walk
as not" said Vida. bravely, at the
same time secretly wincing at the pain
that was getting more intense in her
feet.
But you won't get home for dinner"
he said solicitously.
ooh, yes 1 SHALL" replied Vida. "I'l
be home long before that"
"It will be a little out of your way,
but getrin and ride as far as my house."
he said. refectively, ami then drove
rapidly into the south fork of the road.
From there you can go cross lots and
in the end you will save time"
EYES," said Vida, thinking the while
that their way led right by Walter
Mather's house.
Perhaps I'll see Walter" she
thought, "and he'll recognize the effort
it is costing me to keep my promise"
Long before they came in sight of the
house, she plainly discerned the maple
grove which sheltered the white farm
house. When they neared the place
her eyes searched eagerly under the
lOw-hanging branches for q familiar
form. At last she discerned two people
swinging leisurely in a hammock, n
a girl of her acquaintance, the other,
Walter Mather, with his arm around
her waist.
For a moment Wilda's heart beat
wildly, then it seemed to stand still.
He teeth closed like a wise, and could
she have opened them to speak her
tongue would have Kissed out traitor"
Suddenly Walter caught the sound of
wheels, and looking up recognized her,
withdrew his arm, and bowed.
Mr.. Cline had caught the drift of
things, too. and. giving his horses a
clip with the whip, in the midst of q
cloud of dust they assembled the hill.
"Who was that young woman with
Walter Mather?" he asked, as soon as
they were well over.
Miss Wood" said Vida, savagely.
"The bold mink" he calculated, to
which Vida dare not trust herself to
reply.
Soon now they were at Mr.. Cline's
gate. when Vida, unassisted, clam
bered out of the wagon, and after
thanking him for her ride, started
down the road toward home.
"Take 1t cross lots, Wilda," NIr. Cline
called after her.
"All right, Mr.. Cline. Excuse me, l
forgot" she called back.
Then she turned in toward the high
rail fence, climbed over it, and when
she was well into the field beyond, in
sheer desperation she sat down on the
ground with her back against an old
stump and began to cry.
"Only to Think she burst out indig-
nantly. " of my going to all this trouble
for him. The mean, deceitful wretch.m
and the heavy heads of grass bent
low and answered "Yes." Now 1
know why / could never tell whether
| loved BIN or not. He don't deserve
it." and the waving grass bent its
heads still lower and whispered, mo,
he's deceiying you." "Ill never, never
speak to him again." she cried.
II wouldn't if I We're you," croaked
a blackbird as it lighted on the stump
above her head.
II don't believe Theodore Graham
would be guilty OF treating a girl like
that
"Indeed he wouldn't again croaked
the blackbird. flying away
And I've been as mean to him as I
could be, and snubbed him every
chance ! could get. Oh, I wish / wasn't
such a foollr And covering her face
with her hands she broke into an
angry Rod of tears.