Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1905-03-22

after they had departed. and only
Stella Phinney and Martin remained.
she was still sobbing. To leave the
room for the last time was almost as
much tax as parting from the school,
for the ten years had imprinted every
nook, Granny, and outline of that lit
tie temple on her heart, and when the
door was closed and locked by Martin
and the three drove away, she was
still unable to speak.
The affair was tribute she might
we'll be proud of, for never before had
its like occurred in Greenyale, and yet.
when the horses hoofs struck the old
red bridge on their way home. to Angie
they sounded like the rapid fall OF
clods upon coffin.
II can't undo my heartstrings," she
said to Martin that night, land to-
days experience has made me feel that
l am like ship without rudder.
have lived with the growing ambitions
of my little men and women so long,
they have chung to me, and loved me,
| and them, all these years, that they
are part of my life. I am sure I shall
feel like the prisoner who, after spend
ing 10 years in one cell each night.
was released, only to go back there in
a month and beg for the privilege OF
entering it again.
But Christmas day brought another
mood to this more than lovable girl,
and also surprise to Martin. He had,
as might be expected, almost filled her
home with presents for all it's men,
bers, list too long for mention, and
they had all eaten banquet dinner at
| the doctors and with music and
games passed the afternoon. 1t was
not day celebrated as Thanksgiving
was, and when nightfall came, Aunt
Comfort led the way homeward.
II shall see you this evening, hope
Angie whispered to Martin ere she fol-
! lowed; Eat least I want to. I've lit
tie Christmas present waiting for YOU -
What it was he could not even guess
in fact did not expect any His
| evenings there were usually passed in
the sitting room, for the parlor was
! slow to warm now winter had come,
land Aunt Comforts presence was no
bar to conversation with Angie. She
| also-like the wise mother she was
| retired early, and did so tonight.
Then, for charming hour, Angie and
Martin had the room to themselves.
No mention of his own feelings or
| hopes was made by him-he had since
the first abandoned that subject-and
the school farewell, with books and tho
latest gossip, furnished topics. 1t was
almost time for separation, and yet M
| mention of the Christmas token had
been made by Angie.
| II thought was to receive a pres
ent." he said at last, cor was it joke? p
1T may prove sorry one," she an
swered, "but have one for you, and
will go out and get it. When return,
I'll knock; you must then arise, close
your eyes, and promise not to open
them until say the word"
| Somewhat mystif1ed, he promised
and for long half hour he watched
the fire and listened to the clock. And
that half hour seemed likely to never
end.
At last came the knock, and he arose
and dutifully closed his eyes. Soon
he heard the door softly open and
close, then gentle, rustling step, an6
when, "Now you may look" was
whispered, he opened his eyes. And
what vision greeted him, for there
glowing with bushes and half con,
Cealed beneath a veil stood Angie. =
bride in dress and pose, with hands
folded and eyes downcast. A woman
beautiful as sculptor's dream!
Here is your present." she whis.
pered at last, raising her love-lit eyes
to his, "you have robbed me of m,
schod-and-and-1 must have some
one t. care for in place Of it."
And now did he, or did he not con.
slider that veil superhuous? Let mi
assure you, kind reader, I'll nevpr tell
ITO Bs Continued.]