Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1906-05-10

figure. Like most village bellies, she
was somewhat-indeed, very much-of
a coquette. Nine out of ten Of the
swans were anxious TO become her
sweet-hearts, and were already her
admirers. There was a certain young
carter, named Edward Young, who
was supposed to be the favored
swain, and, If not actually engaged to
her, pretty nearly so. But Polly was
fond of her liberty, and too inclined
to love of power to bind herself to
any one of her numerous admirers.
Men might come and men might go,
but she coquetted ever; but Edward
Young had stood very good chance
of winning the tickle beauty until
the appearance of the handsome
stranger, Cyril Kingsley.
Polly had marked him''-to use
sporting phrase-as her prey the mo
ment she had seen him; and Cyril
Ringsiey's insensibility to her charms
had only added zest to ner ambi-
ton.
Old Marsden was one of the labor
ers at the Home Farm, and Polly had
many opportunities of meeting the
handsome young farmer-opportuni-
ties which she endeavored to utilize
for the purpose of Irritation. But she
found Cyril Kingsley extremely hard
metal; smiled she ever so sweetly,
she could scarcely ever get more than
a "good-day," or 'good-evening," from
him. 1t is true that this was pleas
antly given, for Cyril Kingsley was
perfectly chivalrous in his manner to
women, and his grave courtesy won
every female heart about the place.
At certain hours of the day, Cyril
Kingsley could always be relied upon
to pass the cottages-when he went
out in the morning, when he came
home to dinner, and often when he
returned to the farm for the evening;
and at these times Polly generally
happened to be at the gate, either ar
ing, little knitting, or reading a
book; and always as he passed, Cyril
Kingsley nodded, and gave her smii
ing "good-morning," or "good-even-
ing" Once or twice he had stopped
to speak to old Marsden, and then
Polly would smile pleasantly, and ask
after Mrs. Tibet and the children,
or the young calves-anything served
for topic for conversation.
This evering Polly was at the gate.
| To-
and when Cyril Kingsley strobe in
sight she watched him eagerly.
Presently he came abreast with the
gate, aid, as usual, nodded, but with
out his usual smile, and Polly saw
that he was not only grave, but wet
through, which was enough to make a
man grave.
"Good-evening, Mr.. Kingsley she
said; then, ''Oh, whatever is the mat
ter? Why, you are wringing wet!"
'Eh?" said Cyril, stopping short
he had forgotten all about his damp
condition-"yes, l have been in the
water"
after one of those wretched sheep,
| suppose. Oh, Mr.. Kingsley, you'll
catch your DEATH" said Polly, with
fiattering anxiety.
But you WILL" said Polly, opening
the gate and laying her hand on his
arm, with little flush that became
her admirably. Indeed. you are
wet through and through"
Water has a habit of wetting you,"
said Cyril grimly amused by her con-
sternation.
And you've got all the way to the
farm to CO."
about ten minutes walk" he said
with a smile.
Just time enough to catch your
DEATH" said Polly. still keeping her
hand-it was very nice, plump hand
upon his arm. "You must come Ia
and drink cup of hot tea with little
spirits in 1.-THE kettle is boiling. Oh,
do come in. Mr.. Kingsley"
Her tone was so anxious and con-
cerned, that Cyril who thought it
would be less fussy to accede, with a
short laugh, followed her to the cot
tage.
With little fiutter of excitement
Polly drew chair close to the fire
and insisted upon his sitting down
of course, about the most unwise thing
she could do-and poured him out a
steaming cup of tea. She was about
to add liberal quantity of brandy.
but he stopped her by laying his hand
on her arm, at which Polly blushed
again, and said:
mo spirits, Polly, I never drink
them"
mot when you are wet through,
Mr.. Kingsley" she exclaimed. "Oh,
but think you ought; and where
did you fall in?"
In the lake." said Cyril, con-
cisoly. rs your father inf"
Hes down at the farm; but how
did YOU happen to fall in, Mr.. Kings
iey?" she asked curiously.
"An accident" said Cyril. more
curtly than before.
Polly looked at him with curiosity
positively torturing. He was good