The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-10-29
Sunday, October 90, zoos.

He took her chubby cheeks between
his hands and laid on her cherry-ripe
lips q keepsake which he never re-
She stood watching him from the
a gate I'm until, as "a clump Of willows
He win go right BY where Allen is
at work. It would be jest like him
to jump over the fence and have a
talk with him. I'd like to hear It,"
An, hour or 50 later, as she sat and
sewed in the airy little entry, a shadow
fell upon her work, and as she looked
up her startled eyes met the piercing
glance Of her discarded lover. A mo-
mentary ripple of remorse passed over
her cheerful heart as she saw Allen s
pale and agitated face. He was paler
than she had ever seen him, with that
CHASTITY pallor of weather-beaten faces.
His black hair, wet with perspiration,
chung clammily to his temples. He
looked beaten, discouraged, utterly
fatigued with the conflict Of emotion.
But one who looked closely in his eyes
would have seen a curious stealthy,
half-shaded light in them. as, Of one
still not without resolute will.
Dame Barringer, who had seen him
coming up the walk, hustled in: "Good
morning, Allen. How beat out you look!
Now, like stiddy young man, but
don't you think you run this thing of
workin, into the ground9"
wesa7 maEee east snid e9 i've Iaen
a,runnin' this spade into the ground
"You want buttermilk- that your
idee; ain It it, nowYO
fWell, Mizzes Barringer, I reckon
you know my failin 8.
The good woman trotted off to the
dairy, and Susie served demurely, wait
ing with some trepidation for what
was to come next. --zs '...-@ #
"Susie Barringer,' said low, husky
voice which she could scarcely recognize
as Golyer's "I we come to ask pardon
not for nothing I've done, for I
never did and never could do you wrong
but for what I thought for a while
arter you left me this morning. It's
all over now, but I tell you the Bad
Man had his claws into my heart for
spell. Now it 8 all over, and I wish
you well. I wish your husband well.
I can he1p, sena FOR me; It 5 my light
It's the last favor ask Of you.'
Susceptible Susie cried little again.
eyes, said: 7Don't take It to heart,
?udie. Perhaps there is better days
in store for me YETI
This did not appear to comfort Miss
Barringer in the least. She was greatly
grieved when she thought she had
broken young man g heart; she was
still more dismal at the slightest init.
nation that she had not. IF any ex.
PLANTATION Of this paradox is required
I would observe, quoting phrase much
in vogue among the witty writer's Of the
present age, that Miss Susie Barringe1
. was "a very female woman" -.
.--..-. -. 4. j. +
So pretty susan's rising sob subsidized
into coquettish pout by the time hel
mother came in with the foamine
pitcher Of subacidulous nectar, ano
piled young Golyer with Drumming
beakers of it with all the benefcen1
delight of Lady Bountiful.
"There, Mizzes Barringerl there's
about as much as I can tote. Temper
ance in all things.'
every well, then, you work less AND
play more. We never get a sight O:
you lately. Come in neighborly ant
play checkers with Tudie.''
It was the darling wish of Mothe
Barringer's heart to see her daughte
married and settled with ga stidd,
young man that you knowed all about
and his: folks before him. She ha,
observed with great disquietude tn
brilliant avatar Of Mr.. BERTHE Leon an
the evident pride of her daughter il
. the bright-plumaged captive she ha