Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1904-07-28
A MESS OF
POTTAGE
Copyright, 1904, by Daily Story Pub. Col
By FRANK H. SWEET


THE lilacs were in bloom and above
them. upon a limb Of the big elm,
an criole had hung her pensile nest, and
every day in the sunshine her trouba-
dour mate sang to her of love and COM
partnership and airy journeyings. From
across the fields came the odor OF
freshly plowed ground and the breezy
calls of men to their horses. In 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. 1t was mid May
land the wheat-heads were still green
with their thriftiest growing, and the
efence corners and roadsides were CHEEKY
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 ripping
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 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, Il
take the ten o'clock, but of course had to
come round and say goodbye to you. I
haven't much time you know. But you'll
write. won't you? And I'll write and tell
you how l get along. Everything III be
fine up there"
Eyes, l suppose so," Elsie answered,
slowly; "and I'll write" Her eyes had
grown softer at his approach, now they
looked troubled. They always looked
troubled lately after a 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 nov 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
2 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.
eyes, I'll write" she repeated, land
tell. you about everything going on here.
But they'll be dull letters, for I'm just
farm girl and like farm ways. l wish
could be ambitious like you; but the
country is so beautiful. feel about it
like the oriole singing up in the tree.
I'm afraid you'll think we are dull, Fred,
and grow away from U.S."
II couldn't do that" he commenced,
eagerly; mot from you, Elsie. IL
wish we" He hesitated and paused
i gdoubtfully. He was looking at her
arms. barred above the elbows and al
ready becoming rosy in the direct sun
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 fall
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.
.sWell, 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
6 eor 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
at high school, which would graduate il
few weeks