The Florida agriculturist., 1907-05-15


knew it was a few minutes till five.
Habit, born of continual custom, had
taught him to arise at that hour. He
tapped lightly on his wife's door and
hurried down to the kitchen to start
the breakfast fire. He found the bun
die of pitch kindling in it's usual place
at the end Of the woodbox, the matches
in the corncob holder ON the wall,
and the waste paper in the rack near
the stove. Abner left the damper open,
knowing his wife would be down by
the time he reached the barn.
1t had always been delightful thing
to him to be bathed from hat to boots
in the cool fragrance of the early
morning. The bawling of the calves
in the lot, the squeahng of the pigs
from the sty, and the hungry nicker-
ings of the horses as they bobbed
their heads over the stanchion when
he opened the feedbox, had always
been music in his ear
But on this morning it all seemed
a mockery. The cries Of his beloved
beasts were bedlam OF dscord that
rasped his ear. 1t was all because
Mary was going away-going to leave
the ranch and return home. She was
weary OF the Oregon mountains, tired
OF looking always out over the endless
array of fr-clad ranges, and her heart
ached for the level prairies Of Iowa.
She would only be away three or
four months just long enough to
visit the home folks and the home
place-but even that would seem, a
long time to Abner, since the two
had been constantly together during
the four years of their married life,
hills. Most OF all, he feared she would
itude OF the 6r-covered mountains.
They ate in silence, Abner conclud-
ing his second cup of coffee, his third
slice of ham, and his fourth biscuit
with the remark: I'm afraid my flap
jacks will be mighty heavy diet, Mary,
after faring so long on these light
slim gems of yours
''Oh, you will manage that part of
it all right" she assured him; 1.-THE
only thing hate, iAbner, is the thought
of leaving you out here all alone. 1t
seems selfish in me to go away with
Out YOU" :.
''Dont worry about that, little one"
replied Abner. Il owe it to you.
You've been loyal these four years.
Most girls would have given up in
despair. You should see your folks
anyway. I've kept you from them
long enough. It is possible that a
sawnliH will be placed in the gulch
this winter and I can sell my quarter
section of timber at a good figure.
Then, we can both go back.
Probably I ought to wait, but I'm
awful homesick- awful tired of the
hills said the young wife.
81 know it, Mary, and there will be
no waiting. We've planned for this
trip Of yours long time, and I am
just as, happy as you in the thought
that you can go. I'll have the roans
around to the gate in ten minutes. y
He showed back his chair, and, giving
his wife an afectionate pat on the
head with his broad palm, bounded
Out Of the door.
A half hour later the two were in
the saddle, and cantering briskly down
the winding road toward the railway
station. 1t was clear May morning,
and the air was WOOd-splced with the
fragrance OF cedar and balsam fir.
Though she had been secretly happy
in preparing for her return home, she
now felt pain of regret at leaving:
She had believed it would be as if
leaving a prison that had walled her
in with mountains that could not be
scaled, but somehow, this was not so.
She saw beauty this morning where
she had never seen it before-in the
dancing of the light and shadows