The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1905-01-13
CHAPTER XVIII.

~ Jar
At the back of Olive Dumbarton's
fashioned garden, protected from the
n~eighboring ground by high walls of
faded brick, against which pear and
plum trees stretched their spreading
branches. It's central grass plot. soft
as velvet to the tread. and restful and
refreshing to the eye: it's sanded paths
with their border beds now bright With
sunf1ower and chrysanthenluln, with
dahlias and nasturtiums: its wilderness
of gooseberry and current bushes at
one end: it's apple trees growing close
to the house, gave 1T n quaint appear
ance which strongly appealed to the
tastes of the owner.
On a bright, bracing afternoon in
October, Veronica was walking back
ward and forward Upon the grass. In
willing to leave her mother in her pres
N 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 Nen-
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-
.c%asions she was not alone. for from the
back windows of the n~eighboring house
TT was possible for .Quinton Quave to
catch sight of her black ROBBED figure
moving over the grass or under the
trees, and to join her was no diff
cult task for one who for years had
enjoyed the unceremonious entree to
her mothers house.
On this occasion he was walking be-
side her, q. cricket cap or the back of
his head, his hands thrust into the
pockets of his tweed jacket. brown
shoes upon his feet.
II wanted mother to come out here
I'm the fresh, bracing air. but she
thought it was too cold" Veronica was
saying. 81 don't know what we should
do il we hadn't this dear, old quiet
garden?"
81 think 1T the jolliest garden in the
world. Ours is nothing compared with
this" Quinton replied. looking into hel
pale face, long like her mothers. and
with something of the same wistful
expression in her gray eyes.
t.NVly?" she asked.
ooh, 1 don't know; perhaps it is be-
cause i remember it SO long, he an
swcred illoSically.
"But you must remember your owr
garden much longer"
"Of course: but it has never been sc
pleasant as this. What fun wa used t,
have here when | was a boy and yo,
were a mere child"
well, you were only in jackets ant
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
rore."
You used to skip too" she said
laughing at the comical picture he pre-
scented to her minds eye, hi Joining il
her laughter.
do you remember the day 1 fel
from that tree when Twas getting tn
apples on The top %bough?a Quintol
asked.
And I burst out crying because
thought VOL were killed"
You liked me then?" he said shylS
You must remember that l was onl
a mere child" she answered smilingl,
but o are not Il child now, Yer
onica, and-and-'
''Don't-don't," she said in a low, agi
tated voice. IA.
'Then I used to dream Of doing tn
most daring things in the world 70
your sake. I used to- wish. you wer
drowning, that I might save you: c
that you We're being run away With b
a wild horse hat l might rush on
and clutch at his bride With a wris
of steel. or that your house. was burn
ing, that j might climb into q win
dow and carry o out fninting III m
aryns." \
'"Ihat was because YOU read hoy!
penny dreadful Stories" she replied
her eyes looking away from him.
Maybe the form of serving you wa
suggested by them. but the same de
49, cB-s