Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1904-09-03

1t was early September. The summer
rains had made vegetation rank. and the
buffalo grass on the wide-spreadlng pralries
was matted and brown-as dry as powder.
The night had been gray and still, and had
gwen way to n sky like copper In the
morning. while a strange calm brooded In
the air.
Honor Bright, in her dngy old riding
habit was sitting on the edge of the wide
veranda of her fathers big ranch house
swinging her feet and swapping her quirr
Her pony browsed Just in front of her
stopping to nose her affectionately every
little while. and beside her sat her tance
Gerald Warren. owner of the Star Cross
ranch. His bride rein was thrown over his
arm. and he was pleading earnestly.
Please, sweetheart yield to me this
timer"
But l want the gloves and WHIP she
responded, rather indifferently, whacking
away at the toes OF her wel-worn boots.
III buy you a gross of silver and gold
mounted whips, and the same number oil
Jouvin's best-import them especially tor
you, In the colors you select, If you Will
give up riding at the fair today
She flashed him scornful glance. Il
could shake my trophies under Miss Patricia
Campbell Jefferson's aristocratic nose and
say There, Just see what got for letting
you win the prize! No, Gerald. 1t isn't the
gloves or the whip, but a mean little ambl-
ton | want to crafty. Miss JEFFERSON
called me hoyden, an uncivilZed. uncuI-
tivated little heather. with a certain sort
of beauty this with a little hardening OF
the sweet tones, land she said l couldn't
ride little bit. Oh. of course, she didn't
use my slang when she said it, INTERCEPTED
Honor. as Gerald's eyebrows lifted, but
that is what she meant, just the same.
don't mind the 'hoyden' and the heather.
l suppose l am both And l know better
than anybody can tell me just how much
am lacking in culture, though l hope that
l wouldn't be as purposely cruel to even a
heather as that proud woman is. But
can ride. and | mean to do it." And Honor
which stuck out from under the foundation
OF the high porch.
"And II you should fail?" questioned Ger
aid a little maliciously.
Il shall not fall shall win the whip
and gloves, and-and then I should like to
throw the gloves In Miss Jeffersons face
and wear the whip out over her patrician
shoulders" she finished defantly.
Little girl. you hurt me cruelty when
you talk so thoughtlessly.'
And you hurt me cruelty" she cried
passionately, as she turned her flashing
eyes upon 'er lover, who now stood looking
six feet two. Il am ashamed to ac-
knowledge how much" she continued. as she
looked up at the big blond fellow who was
so helpless in her small hands. Il thought
y
she went on mercilessly. when you see
me beside your mother and your incompar-
able sisters and-and that horrid, prim
Puritan Miss jefferson, you turn asha med
of me. you know you do: And you want to
make me over by the square and level Of
your own social world. but-yOu-you can't
do it." and the big, bright drops began to
roll over her burning cheeks. She was so
pretty. so altogether lovely in her pa
thetic wrath that Gerald could scarcely re-
frain from catching the grieved child in
his big, strong arms, which she probably
guessed, for she backed away from him.
Il tried TO cultivate the little prairie
anemones once, and l was as good to them
as | could be, but they died, every one of
them l would die, too, under the culti-
waiting process. Unjust a wild flower;
you said so yourself" she said sobbingly,
so you'll think-you-you can have your
ring back" and she began Juggling at her
gauntlets. but Gerald caught her trembling
hands
My dear little wild flower I call you
again, for love you just as you are, sweet
heart l will not nave my ring back. !
know that l am much older much graver,
much more quiet than you are. but. child,
I love your sunny ways, your bright