The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-01-04
Y PR EFT MAJ
By THE COUNTESS suLMALLA
[ Copyright. 1927

renew the lease OF the farm he holds and
L would, too. If he gave me any of his i'm
pudence."
ohs sir, poor grandfather isn't impu-
oent; hes a dear, good old man, but he
wouldn't like me to meet you or any other
gentleman shyly. He doesn't think such
ways right, for he knows that gentlemen
only amuse themselves with young women
like me-"
You must not believe all that your
grandfather says; old people are fearful
anu suspicious. l assure you, my dear Mat
ue' L admire and like you too much to
amuse myself at your expense"
She shook her head. Goodbye. sir"
she Cried and hurried away from him.
II ~.1se
eGood evening. Woods. Pleasant just
now, after the heat of the day"
8 Your servant. sir" replied the old farm
err, touching his hat. Eyes, it's pleasant
now; but the best time of, a summers day
Is the early neutrality-suspicious. All, I sup
pose that's what you've never seen, SIR"
Its cool, Woods-the early morning is
COOL nothing more
Its beautiful, sir, the most beautiful
time OF all the day"
Perhaps so. perhaps so; but It's not In
my way, you know" sT
? mo, L suppose not, sir. . You gentlemen
generally turn the night into day. so I've
heard; when we're rising you're going to
your beds. But it isn't natural, squire.
All the birds and the beasts teach us a
lesson: they go to their rest about sun
down.
Very good; very good. indeed All the
same, / don't think 1 shall take a lesson
from the beasts and the BIRDS" and Val
TORI laughed heartily. "Wen, good even
ing again, Woods
ST don't care overmuch for the new
squire" old Woods said to himself, as he
made his way to the TORI Arms. Hell
never be liked as the old squire was. Well,
1 don't suppose We'll see much of him.
Val TORI watched the old man turn into
the village inn; then, with laugh. he has
tened through the park and across the
fields to Stocklands farm-the home Of
Richard Woods.
He would not go straight to the house
and ask for Matte; he would walk round
about and into the orchard-in all prob
ability she was out Of doors this fine even
ing.
The yard was deserted; all work was over
and done for that day. His footsteps reused
the dogs and set them barking; still, not a
soul came out of the house or from any of
the outbuildings to inquire who was the
intruder. 1t was fortunate for him that no
one was about. He did not wish to fill the
mouths OF old Woods's servants, nor did he
care to rouse the anger of old Woods him.
self. He liked to amuse himself with hand
some Matte; nevertheless, she was not
worth any unpleasantness with a good ten
ant. He was a good tenant Dobson. the
steward, had told him that there was not
another farm on the estate in such splendid
condition as Stocklands. Yes, he must be
careful. he told himself, as he opened the
gate OF the orchard. Matte was certainly
not worth village scandal or the loss Of a
good tenant.
There was q bower, all honeysuckle and
roses, at the end Of the orchard. She might
be there. Yes. his conjecture was right. He
saw the white skirts OF some one through
the foliage. They must belong to her. He
made no sound as he walked over the grass.
He would surprise her. Would she be de-
lighted to see him there? OF course she
would, though she would not say 1t, and
might not show It.. She was in love with
him already. Thus be thought. and smiled.
He stood at the entrance of the bower.
Matte sprang to her feet, and the book
she had been perusing fell to the ground.
This is an intrusion. sir, What do you
mean by stealing on me in this manner?"
| Was this Matte. the dairymaid-this be-
friIled and belaced young lady. with, trail
ing skirts and fashionably-dres hair?
He stood silent and regarded her with as
constituent.
| Then, suddenly changing her tone. she
made a curtsey and said: "Oh. sir. excuse
my speaking 80 rough, but I'm so afraid
some one'n see you here; and grand
lfather'd be awful angry with me. Do &c
laway, sir, please"
my dear Matte, now know you," VA
| TORI rejoined, taking her hand in his. How
soft they were for a dairymaids. She drew
them from him. For moment 1 thought
I had stumbled across one of my own WON.
en-a lady of fashion. What relief it is tC
| find that all this white finery clothes my
unsophisticated Matte"
| This is my Sunday frock. sir, and grand
father likes to see me In 1t; that's how
came to put it on. Oh don't I wish wa.
/ a lady WITH plenty VI InOuey anu lOlS VI llils
dresses! But, thereI grandfather says
mustn't think about such things. come o.
Woodworking folk. and fine frocks anC
dainty food wouldn't suit me-"
Now, that is just what have come here
| TO talk to you about, Matte minel''
| ooh, don't, sir! John Hazel might get Il
| hear that you called me that, and-and-''
'And who is John Hazel?" TORI inquired
| Hes grandfathers cowman, sir" sh'
replied with a smile.
Have you promised to marry the fel
| low?''
mot yet. sir. But he-he-I-I-"
Bother Hazel and all cowmen! Now lis
/ ten to me-"
II can't sir. I'm SO afraid that grand
| father'l catch you here. Or perhap
/ john ~. ess<ss .,,rt 49, -
Re put a hand over her mouth. She grew
| red and very angry. -. :
"Wen, don't mention that brute's name
You don't belong to him, and never will
/ Come out OF this and have a stroll In tn
| lane. Do there's a dear GIRL - /
After little persuasion she accompanies
! ~