Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1907-12-12

IW front porch, facing the setting
sun. Across the road, now an
G--s-J kle deep in June dust. was the
wreck Of the Peters place-back
broken roof, crumbling chimneys. shut
ters hanging down like broken wings.
the old house had the pathetic appeal
Of shipwrecked gentility. 4 house
without people in it, even when II is
in repair, is as forlorn as dog who
has lost his master.
Up the road were more houses of the
nondescript village pattern, made nei-
Their for comfort nor looks God
knows why they built such houses!
Perhaps it was In accordance with the
old Puritan idea that any kind of
physical perfection is basphemy Some
Of these were kept in paint and win.
dow glass, but there were enough poor
relations to spoil the effect.
Down the road between the arches OF
the weeping willows came first the
brook, with the stone bridge-this
broken as to coping and threadbare
In general-then on the hither side of
the way some three or four neigh
bors' houses and opposite the black
smiths shop and postoffice, the latter
OF course I'm store, where you could
buy anything from stale groceries to
shingles.
In short, Fairfield was an eastern
village whose cause had departed, a
community drained Of the male prin-
ciple, leaving only few queer men,
the blacksmith and some halfiing boys
to give tone to the background of doz-
ems Of old maids.
An unsympathetic stranger would
have felt that nothing was left to the
Fairfieldians but memory, and the
sooner they lost that the better.
Take a wineglassful of raspberry
vinegar, two tablespoonfuls of sugar,
bard, good full cup of the milk Of
| human kindness, dilute In a gallon of
water and you have the flavor Of
Fairfield. There was just enough of
each ingredient to spoil the taste Of
all the rest.
| MISS mdtllc TeSleu ucI tlDOW VII thc
railing, her chin in her hand, and
| gazed thoughtfully about her. AS a
matter of fact, she was the most in
spring thing in view. At distance
of fifty yards she was still tall, slen-
der girl. Her body retained the habit
as well as the lines of youth, trick
Of gliding into unexpected, pleasing at
| titudes, which would have been awk-
ward but for the suppleness of limb
to which they testified and the uncon'
seriousness and ease of their irregular
ity.
Her face was a child's face in the
ennobling sense OF the word. The rec
ord of the years written upon 1t seem
ed a masquerade-th face of a clear
eyed girl of fourteen made up to rep
resent her own aunt at a fancy dress
party; q face drawn a trifle fine, lit
tie ascetic, but balanced by the hui
NOR of the large, shapely mouth, and
really beautiful In bone and contour,
the beauty of mignonette and doves
and gentle things.
| You could see that she was thirty five
In the blatant candor Of noon, but now,
blushed with the pink Of the setting
sun, she was still In the days OF the
fairy prince.
| Miss Mattie's reverie idled over the
year upon year of respectable stupidity
that represented life In Fairfield, while
her eyes and soul were in the boiling
gold of the sky glory. She sighed.
A panorama of life minced before
Miss Mattie's mind about as vivid and
full Of red corpuscles as a Greek
frieze. Her affectionate nature was
starved. They visited each other, the
ladies Of Fairfield-these women who
had rolled on the floor together as
babies-in their best black or green or
whatever 1t might be. and gloves
this though the summer sun might be
| hammering down with all his might
And then they sat In closed room
and talked in a reserved fashion which
was entirely the property OF the cali.
| OF course one could have moments
real talk by chance meeting. and there
were the natural griefs OF life to break
the corsets of this etiquette, although
In general the griefs seemed to be
long drawn out and conventional al
fairs. as II nature herself at last yield
ed to the system, conquered BY the
invincible conventionality and stub
bornness Of the ladies Of Fairfield. II
was the unspcken but firm belief OF
each of these women that person
Of their circle who had no more idea
Of responsibility than 10 drop dead on
the public road would never go to
heaven.
Poor Miss Matte! Small wonder
she dropped her hands. sat back and
| wondered. with another sigh. ifitwere