Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1905-03-01

I eagerly adopted, on the condition that
Carrie collects and carries the sketch
ing materials.
Side by side the two girls wend their
way, the one just standing on the edge
of the brook which divides glrlhood
from womanhood, the other from lit
tie distance looking wistfully at the
magic stream.
Together. with Carries arr around
Mays waist, they cross the lawn, and
make their way to the river.
Carries clear young treble arises
and mingles with the birds who, sur
prised by the unwonted glory of the
morning have ventured into song.
May walks along in silence; terpsicho-
rean exercise extended to the small
hours is novel to her, and the bloom
on her cheeks is just little paled;
| there is a touch of thoughtfulness
about her dark brown eyes that rem
ders them downcast and dreamy, the
red, ripe. expressive lip they are
none the paler for last lights dissipa-
! tion-are slightly parted with a faint
smile that may have been called up by
the recollection of some incident of her
| first public ball.
Carrie sings through two verses of
that popular song, in which the en-
amored young gentleman invites his
mistress, named Maud, to nocturnal
promenade in the garden, and is about
to start the third when Mays unusual
silence strikes her for the first time.
How quiet you are, May. Are you
tired? You said you weren't l be-
lieye you are quite tired out"
ooh, you think so. do you? Well,
I'm not too tired to give you start
TO that first oak, and race you down
4 to the bank, and I'll carry the paint
| box into the bargain"
"You rum" she says; you've forgot
ten how to- Why, l could give you
start. Now" she calls back, having
reached the oak, and away she skins,
her fair hair streaming behind her
her paints and brushes rafting In
their box, and May starts in hot pur-
suit,
| 1t is a sight to set the heart of a
poet or a painter aglow with delight,
but there is neither poet nor painter,
nor any less prosaic being in sight.
| It is October, and the silver river,
which all the summer through bears
patiently on its smooth bosom long
and apparently never-ending process
sion of pleasure-boats, is seemingly
deserted. A solitary kingsfisher starts
affrightedly from the ruhes by the
bank, and skins swiftly into the woods
/ that rise, terrace-like, on the other
side. and a water-rat, who has been
talking to a wren, darts painting into
his front parlor.
1t is a close race, and Carries long,
thin legs do their part girlfully; but
May has not forgotten her schoolgirl
days. and before Carrie can reach
the narrow line of gravel made on the
! grassy tow-path by the barge horses,
May is before her; there is a burst OF
laughter then-breathless. the two
girls sink on to the trunk of felled
tree and pant.
81 didn't think you could run so fast
sun, may. say y Aci lC. NJAAS 0NItA
shall never get my breath again; and
oh. isn't it beautiful?" she adds, nod
ding at the golden-crimson red-brOwr
bouquets Of leaves hat still cling
lovingly to the trees rising on the
other side of the river. Isn't it beau
tiful and, oh, May. it's even more love
~ in summer, when the boats are OIL.
81 think / should not like it better
than now" says May. thoughtfully
Can we go on to the other side?"
"Oh. yes" says Carrie, eff we car
J cross the river. Let us walk up to the
ferryman's cottage and call him tt
take US across. II will be lovely il
the woods"
Come along, then" says May, with
alacrity, and they walk quietly
enough now to a corner opposite a lit
tie matched cottage, in which dwell;
the man who has charge of the ferry
boat. moored to the other bank.
Now, May, you CALL" says Carrie;
give no breath left-stop, I'll try;
and in clear treble she shrieks: Fer
ry,"
That doesn't go naIf across the
river. Let me try. Let us both cal
together-now them" and both to
gether their young voices awake The
echoes in a prolonged: Ferry"
IF that doesn't awake him, nothing
will says Carrie, confidently. 81 say
awake because he sleeps all day long
from the end of September to the
middle of May, when the boats come
on again. Yes, there he comes-May
, know he is swearing. by the look o.
his face-and, oh. May" she breaks
, off. clutching her sealslin arm, who:
this?"
For at that moment, there skins
from around the bend which the river
takes at this point a neatlybuilt
punt, propelled by a tall, stalwart man
who, with his shirt-sIeeves tucked III
TO his elbows, is welding the Ions
punt-pole with vigorous pushes, which
shoot the light vessel with graceful
velocity toward the bank.
May looks around, and strains heI
eyes, but before she can speak, the
gentleman turns. and giving one last
push, stands erect and raises his car
MAY. it's Sir Heron" whispers Car
RE ''Shall we go?"
Before May can answer. the end OF
the punt runs ashore, and Sir Heron
foar-. on+o the hank and holds ont hi