The Mitchell capital. (Mitchell, Dakota [S.D.]) 1879-1918, 1905-01-13
CHAPTER xN111.


At the back of Olive Dumbarton's
house was a long. narrow strip of old
fashioned garden. protected from the
nelghboring ground by high walls of
faded brick, against which pear and
plum trees stretched their spreading
branches. Its central grass plot. soft
as velvet to the tread, and restful and
refreshing to the eye; its sanded paths
with their border beds now bright with
sunfiower and chrysanthemum. with
dahiias and nasturtiums: its wilderness
of gooseberry and current bushes at
one end; its apple trees growing close
TO the house, gave it a quaint appear
ance which strongly appealed to the
tastes Of the n
On a bright, bracing afternoon in
October, Veronica was walking back
ward and forward upon the grass. I'm
willing to leave her mother In her pres
ent condition for even an hour, and
sensitively shrinking from the observa-
ton she imagined herself likely to at
tract out Of doors, she had, since the
night of the tragedy, refused to VEN
ture beyond the precincts of the house.
1t was in the garden she therefore
took the exercise her mother considered
necessary to the girls health, and it
frequently happened that on such oc-
casions she was not alone. for from the
back windows of the neighboring house
~ Wao pOSoIOlC " 0ullllOII QudNS 10
catch sight of her black robed figure
moving over the grass or under the
trees, and to Join her was no diff
cult task for n who for years had
enjoyed the u~nceremonious entree to
her mothers house.
On this occasion he was walking be-
side her, a cricket cap on the back of
mis- head, his hands thrust into the
pockets of his tweed Jacket, brown
shoes upon his feet.
y wanted mother to come II here
I'm the fresh, bracing air. but she
thought 1t was too cold" Veronica was
saying II don't know what we should
do If W. hadn't this dear. old quiet
Earden?"
II think 1t the %jolliest garden in the
world. Ours is nothing compared with
this" Quinton replied. looking into he,
pale face, long like her mothers, and
With something OF the same wlstful
expression in her gray eyes.
"Why?" she asked.
oh, | don't know; perhaps it is be-
cause I remember it so long" he an
swered i%llogically.
But you must remember your own
garden much longer"
"Of course; but it has never been sc
pleasant as this. What fun we used IL
have here When l was Il boy and vou
were a mere child
We'll, you were only in jackets anC
big linen collars, and on Sundays a tai
hat that used to make me laugh wher
I saw you going to church,"
"And you had dolls and a skipping
ripe"
You used to skip too" she said
laughing at the conlical picture he pre-.
scented to her minds eye, he Joining III
her laughter.
DO you remember the day l fel
from that tree when l was getting thu
apples on the top bough" Quintor
asked.
And I burst out crying because
thought o were killed.
You liked me them" he said shyly
You nus remember that l was oni,
q mere child" she answered smilingly
But you are not a child now, Yer.
Onica, and-and-"
"Don't-don't." she said in a low, agi.
'tated voice.
Then l used to dream Of doing tho
most daring things in the world 70,
pour sake. l used to wish you were
drowning, that l might save you: Of
that you were being ruiz away with b,
q wild horse that l might rush OUT
and clutch at his bride with a wris,
of steel; or that your house was burn
fng, that I might climb into a Win
dow and carry you out fainting in IN,
rms.
'"That was because you read boys
penny dreadful stories." she replied
her eyes looking away from him.
Maybe the form of serving you was
suggested by them, but the same de-