The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-12-08

And, while Phil made his plaint, Vida walked proudly alongside, carefully guarding neutral ground of a good yard wide, between shoulder and shoulder.
 q don't see, Vida,' began Phil, what you have against me. You treat me as if I were a dogr
 Vida shrugged her shoulders with her habltual careless contempt.
 "There are dogs and dogs,' she said.
 'Meaning,"I cried Phil with petulance, that I am not one of the favored, even considered as a curb
 You certainly do not need to be made of said Vida, you have had too much of that already"
 Not from you!'
 NO, I know better-from Rose Nunsby, among others. if you want to know!"
 She has told you"
 'Nothing-do you suppose I would ask her? But I have eyes in my head, also ears! And-and l am not sure but that you ought to be very much ashamed of yourself, MT. Philip Calmonti"
 Ashamed of myselfi Why in all the world?"
 Phil was genuinely astonished now. But Vida gave him no help. She only nodded resolutely, to emphasize her posi- tion.
 Pray, what have I donev' pleaded Phil. Tell me!'
 
 time there during the last year or two," she said, looking carefully away in the opposite direction land now, all of a sud- den, you have not been near Rose for weeks. If I thought it was the influence of-of Vic Morris-Mr. Morrls-I shouli have something to say to him that would take the eternal smile off his face"
 But" faltered Phil Calmont, quite overwhelmed by the unexpected accusa- tion. "I went to the Nunsbys' house only to talk about-'
 q do not care what you went to talk about, or what excuse you made to your self. The fact is that for months-years perhaps--you have gone there every day every afternoon. I myself have seen you crossing the fields Why, Master Phil, l could have set my watch by you, so exact you were. Many a time I did not go over to Roses just because l did not wish to break in upon your tete-a-tetei''
 But Rose knew" gasped Phil, "she knew that I only went thereto talk about youi''
 In a green glade mottled with the wav- ing, golden drift of slender Lent lilies the girl faced about. The sunlight was fair in her face. But the quick wrath which Phil knew so well mad leaped up into the dark eyes. She had drawn back her small, nervous hands, and held them tight clenched by her sides and little behind like an athlete strainlng for the start of a race.
 %And you think that makes it any bet ter" she cried, "even if it were true, Phil Calmont! You have gone thereto the Nunsbys-for years-always when Roses father was absent.'
 q never thought about it, though it is true that do not like her father" put in Phil. Indeed, few people did. But the fact made, at the time. no impression on the angry Vida. She swept on, overleap- ing all obstacles in the pouring spate of her argument.
 She is not as other girls, you will say Phil tried to intimate vainly that he had said nothing of the kind. ''No, sir, she is not as other girls, my Rose. She is far better, far more unselish. l am not worthy to be her friend. to have her love her friendship. It is hard for me here, even as it is and it would have been all together impossible without Rose. And now, you, Phil Calmont whom I had looked to-whom l. had expected to make Rose happy-you leave her alone for weeks and weeks-just because"-she dabbed hastily at her eyes-"she has one shoulder little higher than the other. Why, Roses heart is higher and truer thousand times than yours, Phil Call mont. l would give up everything if only could be little like her-so true, so BcHeTouS, HeNar CdTilB II DiC dDOut SelI And that man-one like you, Phil Cal mont, should toss her aside like q worn glove"
 II did nothing of the sort" pleaded poor Phil; indeed, I never thought of such thing
 You ought to have thought"
 'Well, ask Rose Nunsby-herself--I will stand by what she says!" cried Philip desperately.
 "Oh! of course. Rose is too proud, too true too loyal. even to a thing like you. ever to say word. Oh, my poor Rose!'
 And the handkerchief went up again. It was one. of Vida's Con edge" days, when a little went q very long way with her. Phil happened to present himself for sacrifice, that is all!
 But, Vida"
 Don't call me Vidal will not have it! I am not Vida to youl'
 Well, Miss Bryan, then" said Phil gently "I have only to bid you good evening. You will not believe me when I tell you the truth. You will not even believe your own friend. Since I went to the pits to work in the office with MT. Morris I am often kept late. There is al- ways so much to be done. My afternoons are not my own any longer'
 But your evenings are!"
 Then quite suddenly little flood of color mounted to Phil's cheekbone. He was going to make his first mistake.
 "You mean that am not to come here mot to see you!'
 Vida nodded. She was thinking of Roses happiness. There had grown up in her heart something truly maternal, protective, for the little wistful girl in whom even the casual eye distinguished something strange and elfish. She would, as it were, give Rose out. ofs her abund- ance. She would also give her of her best what it cost her most to part with. And with this in her mind, it was Phil Call mont whom she had selected for the sac rifice.
 'No," she said, 'you are not to come here. When you are not occupied with the duties of your office you had better go down and help Rose to keep her father in order. Play backgammon with him. Learn chess. Take him interesting news papers"
 But keep away from you said Phil bitterly, ESQ as to leave the field clear for my betters,'
 Vida stiffened herself and her chin be- came like that of Mir Jacob Romer when the pit delegates asked him for a general rise in wages.
 You mean.' she said very low, the breath whistllng. suddenly intaken, be- tween her teeth.
 'T mean Vic Morris-no other,' said Phil. looking at her eye to eye.
 There was moment of silence, so still that one heard the Tapping of the rocks wings as they came sailing back from their field work.
 Then, without a word. or the slightest sign of farewell. Vida turned on her heel and walked off homewards through the