The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1907-07-20
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By FRANCIS BUCKLEY EhdBREE
Copyright, by Joseph B. Bowles.)

bird and perfume of flowers brought
| their message of 1ovetime to the
young girl standing by the French
window opening on the piazza of a
! pleasant farmhouse. She was a tall,
slight girl with wistful look under
! lying the brightness of her face, as
| though she feared life might steal
from her the happiness she felt to
be her rightful heritage. One in
stinctively felt hers to be one of those
delicately- balanced natures resulting
from the warning of conflicting pow
ers-there were the daring eyes and
the firm chin of one who achieves, but
the brow of ideality and weak hand
spoke of love of ease and hours of
dreaming.
The lovelight deepened in the beau
tiful eyes as the form of young man
appeared far down the road leading
to the farmhouse. The girl moved
and was about to step out on the
piazza when her steps were arrested
by the sound of her own name.
ITS in Bessie Dunlop's blood, I
reckon. Her mother did the same
thing thirty-odd years ago in this very
house. Strange, isn't it? Never came
back herself, poor dear, although she
was that fond of the place-not even
for a visit! I reckon she never saw
the day she could afford it."
| The speaker paused as if to give
the long. painful years time to pass,
and then continued.
$50 she just plodded along and
raised her big family as best she
could-all the time wantin' money
and education for 'em, which she
couldn't no way get, and finally lettin'
| this baby~girl go to a rich aunt who
hadn't any children of her own, so as
| she could have the chance to enjoy
something Of the world. Well, if poor
Lizzie Sloan could have seen her
| comm down here and giyin' herself
| away to Peter JacksOn's Henry,
reckon she'd not have been so willin'
to skimp herself Of her baby's Kisses
Good Mrs. Franklin paused and
| wiped the perspiration from her face,
and Mrs. James LeWellen Brown said:
"Sister Franklin, I can't think you
are speakin' accordin' to your profess
sion. There amt a likelier young
| man in Knarl's Bottom than Henry
Jackson, and him intendin' to be a
| minister of the gospel"
But Mrs. Franklin had recovered
her breath.
'"Twas just so with John Dunlop
Wouldn't hurt fy-fOr one reason,
| he never could have overta4zen one!
! And Lizzie-land alive! She'd have
| made her way anywhere hitched sin
gle, but the day she stepped into
| double traces curbed her down to the
pace of leader that never got out
| Of a jog-trot. To be sure, she never
had to wait up nights a-tremblin' to
hear a drunken step; but pshaw! if a
houses afire, a slow man amt no
! more account than a drunken one to
turn in the alarm. It's. pity a girl
can't realize when she's pickin' out a
husband for herself that she's pickin'
out father for her children at the
! same time There's many man
that's first-rate company settin' under
won't pass muster for the father Of
such a girl as Bessie Dunlop. Will
you tell me if you think she didn't de-
serve all the education and piano
playing she's got-and how in the
land of love could it have been man.
aged if her mad let her depend on
John Dunlop's fatherin'?''
The girl by the window moved
swiftly away; she had not meant to
stay so long She could not be found
| when Henry Jackson made his ap-
pearance and asked for her.
Down in the meadows she lay face
| downward, fighting with the enemy she
had always feared would snatch her
| happiness from her. Was it true,
| what this woman had said? There
had always been a sore spot in her
, heart that her mother had been will
ing, so it had seemed to her, to
| tighten her own load by giving her
| daughter into the care Of another. In
her brief visits home, her father had
! always seemed the saint, her mother
| too-diligent Martha. It was, in fact,
| the remembrance of this calm and ap-
| parently happy father that had recon-
ciled her to Henry Jackson's unam-
bilious plans for the future-plans
she had more than half-promised to
| share.
It was dark when she returned to
| the house. She would neither sink
into the apathy of her father nor
choose success alone for the spirit
| which frowned down failure as sin.
She would weave practical garment
with the warp of action and the wool
Of Dreams
| When Henry Jackson came again,
! he found no longer a yielding girl,
ready to go blinded with him into any
path he chose. He found himself
spurred to efforts which he felt him
self only dimly conscious. of making,
and his love of ease which he had
I-miSnamed neace@ called by mich