The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1907-01-23
St. Martins
Summer
By VIRGINIA L. VENT
Copyright. 1906. BY c. Il. sutcliffe

{ Copyright. 1906. by C. II. Sutcliffe /
1t was that most gracious season of
all the year perhaps-St. Martins sum-
mer-when the spirit of ripeness which
seems to have fed once more holds the
land with its intoxicating breath. The
fields were studded with tiny Michael
mas daisies, and the hedgerows were
brilliant with early goldenrod, but
somehow you fancied you smelled the
scent of the roses and mignonette as
Nell
There was quite group of people
out ON the small hotel yeranda, and
most of them were gossiping. Spin
ming up the poplar shaded country road
was a smart little trap. Across the
tennis courts the occupants were plain
ly visible. They were James Walsh
and Mrs. John Burgess.
Il say, girls cried one of the group
on the veranda, Its a crying shame to
let that elderly person cut us out with
the richest man we have up here
crying shame, that's what it is! And
don't think any of us has an atom of
grit or go or we'd take the wind out
of Mrs Burgess sails!'
"Why, she must be all of hundred!'
exclaimed another
They say that Mr. Walsh knew her
years ago Wonder where he picked
her up In the ark, | guess"
"Oh, my dear, long before that"
drawled another mockingly Long
! before Noah's time women had ceased
to do their hair in that absurd fash
ion.'
Then the quiet girl with the en-
broidery on her lap spoke softly:
She has a lot of hair, anyhow, and
! it's beautiful, and the way she dresses
it suits her features She reminds me
/ of Albert Durer's Madonna
who's that, Miss TysonY' inter-
/ rupted young fellow in tennis fan
nels, suddenly appearing in the door
way. "Who's like Durer's Madonna
1--WE were speaking of Mrs. Burgess, -
answered Miss Tyson without even
looking up from her embroidery
madonna? Folderolr' cried the 9th
err girls in concert. 'She's plain.
quiet poke of a woman, and a design
ing one at that She's encouraging
him fearfully"
You see, Miss Tyson" observed
Billy, the young chap in fannels, 1--WE
get only one or two big matrimonial
cto
of time nowadays to listen to the i'm
pecunious ardors of early youth. Con-
sequently"-
Billy's words We're ambiguous
enough, but the comprehensive little
sweep which he made with his glance
and sun Drowned hand, including We
randa girls and all, was nimitably
droll. Miss Tyson's gray eyes laughed
appreciatively.
They were such nice understanding
gray eyes, thought Billy. Twas a
shame that embroidery should engross
so much of their attention. Even now
she showed signs of taking it up
again, and to avoid such a catastrophe
Billy proposed game of tennis.
"All right" said Miss Tyson cheer
fully, folding the bit of linen about the
tiny hoop and slowing it away in a
tiny bag.
The fancied likeness between Mrs
John Burgess and the Madonna OF
Durer was not without some basis
There was, indeed, similarity in the
weary features. more interesting than
beautiful and in the dolorous, some
what constrained grace of the stately
figure.
Mrs. Burgess was a woman of forty
five. Her manner, her aspect, was that
of one who had long since ceased
wishing to attract. In point of fact
the wish had never been pronounced
Since her husbands death. which haG
occurred ten years previously. she had
never Worn a color. 1t is to be sup
posed that Mr.. Burgess had loved her
His had been her first aud only offer
of marriage, but in her grlhood hel
heart had been given to another.
Most people who knew Mrs. JohI
Burgess thought of her as the mother
of her children. She had son in the
west who was making great venture:
in cattle and horses, aud she had {
married daughter in Paris who wa:
writing her constantly of her social tri
umphs and prosperity. Yes, her chill
dren We're full of their own plans an(
projects, and once or twice lately Mrs
Burgess had been bit surprised tt
find herself feeling little lonely ant
forgotten-a chill presage Of the au
tumn winds of life Her summer, in
deed, had flown
! Then. just at the correct psychologist
al moment, he came-the man to whom
as girl, she had given her heart
All, where were the chill autumn