Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-08-02
A MESS OF POTT FACE 
 By FRANK H. SWEET
toopyrlght, 1904, by Daily Story Pub. O.,

F1E 1llaCS were HI D1OOu1, ana aDOV0
 them, upon limb of the big elm, an orioIe had hung her pensile nest, and every day in the sunshine her trouba- dour mate sang to her of love and com panionship and airy journeyings. From across the fields came the odor of freshly-plowed ground and the breezy calls of men to their horses. Tn the barnyard were the cacklings of hens and the peeping of many chickens, while from the pasture below came the lowing of cows to their calves. It was mid-May, and the wheat-heads were still green with their thriftiest growing, and the fence corners and roadsides were cheery with their golden offerings of dande- lions
 Elsie came to the kitchen door and looked out. The oriole was singing, and she ran lightly down the steps and round the house to the front yard, her sleeves rolled above her plump elbows and her cheeks flushed with the exercise of dish- washing. Her eyes were bright with sympathy of the perfect day and the surroundings, and as she looked up at the oriole her lips parted in a rippling little song which she was to sing with her graduating class at the high school a few weeks later.
 But at the front gate the song dropped to a lower key, and then stopped alto- gether, as a gaily-dressed young man threw himself from his horse and came Jauntily toward her, with hat in hand.
 Good morning, Elsie,'' he began, T take the ten o'clock, but of course had to come round and say goodbye to you. haven't much time, you know. But you'll write, won't you? And I'll write and tell you how get along. Everything Fl be fine up there"
 sfYes, suppose so,'' Elsie answered, slowly; land I'll write" Her eyes had grown softer at his approach, now they looked troubled. They always looked troubled lately after few minutes talk with Fred. He was changing so. His people had taken summer boarders, and Fred was aping their manners. He wore cheap kid gloves, and tried to initiate their way of walking. and used as many of their phrases as he could in his con- versation Already he was becoming ashamed of country ways and even of his own people. And now he had been offered position in the store of one of the boarders, and was going there to work. Why-But she forced back the unworthy thoughts with sudden self condemnation. Fred was her longtime friend, the brightest boy in the whole neighborhood, her generous competitor in the graduating class, for had he not dropped everything for this position in the city he could easily have won class honors away from her. And of course he had thought of this when he decided to leave the school so abruptly. All the rest was merely boyish enthusiasm. Fred was everything. she believed, and hoped below the surface. Even this going away to the city was an assurance of his unbounded ambition, of his being different from the contented boys of the neighborhood.
 So she smiled across the gate at him, and forced the temporary doubt into confidence and pride in him and into gladness for them both.
 ''Yes, I'll write" she repeated, land tell you about everything going on here. But they'll be dull letters, for I'm just a farm girl and like farm ways wish could be ambitious like you; but the country is so beautiful I feel about it like the oriole singing up in the tree. Pm afraid you'll think we are dull, Fred, and grow away from us.'
 'T couldn't do that" he commenced, eagerly; mot from you; Elsie. I--I wish we" He hesitated and paused doubtfuEly. He was looking at her hM all l. ready becoming rosy in the direct sum- light, at her plain check apron, which she had not removed when she left the kitchen, at the healthy, sunburned face and bare throat, and his speech fal- tered The girls who boarded at his house did not look like that. They car- ried parasols to protect their faces, and wore gloves to protect their hands, and they did not laugh in the loud, hearty manner of the country girls. They were refined
 Well, guess I'll have to say good by, Elsie," he said, with unconscious re- straint. "You must write, and will"
 She watched him down the road, to the corner of the next field, where he stopped for a moment to speak with Hank Bur- ton. Hank was one of the blowers whose voices had been ringing cheerily across the fields, and he was in the same class att high school, which would graduate in few weeks.
 When she went In her father was standing on the kitchen steps, lighting his pipe.
 Who was that fellow, Fl" he asked. Fred Taggart?'
 "Yes, father.''
 T thought so. Come to say good-by, didn't he: =sii.!, I'm sorry for old man Taggart; he sets the world by that boy An 'tis 8 pity, too. Fred was the smart Ast feller round here at one timeA for <