The Butler weekly times. (Butler, Mo.) 1881-1918, 1907-11-28

could never marry Marie, for she was
q rich little lady. and her father Col
Mason, while was poor and only the
gardeners son. ran far In the wood
alone that day and threw myself down
on the messy ground. and ! fear ]
cried, though was past eight and al
most a man.
When I went to school In the town
close by, I did not see so much OF my
little sweetheart. for governess
came to the big stone house to teach
Marie, But used to gather bunch
OF flowers and then print letter very
plain so she could read 1t:
DEER MARIE:
81 LOVE YOU.
GOOD BY RAY"
These I would mail at the post office
in the hollow tree. and Marie would
find them when she went out for a
walk.
One day, one sad. winters day, Mrs.
Mason died. The stone house was
draped In mourning. Poor little Ma
RE, how sad she was! Soon her IA
ther sent her away to stay with her
auntie and go to school, and | saw no
more Of my child-love.
Years passed and l. too. went away
to school. My parents pinched and
saved at home that I might have an
education, and with what was able
to earn in vacation time. managed
to go through college.
Two openings were before me when
I left college. One position would
take me far away, and, perhaps, bring
wealth and fame; the other would
keep me home with my parents and
command a fair salary. hesitated,
I confess, but l chose the latter, and
became the principal of the village
school.
How strange 1t seemed to be in my
old home again, to sleep in my coy
room and enjoy the simple yet ex-
cellent fare my mother prepared.
My father was still employed at
the big stone house, for Col. Mason
wished the place kept exactly as it
was when his wife died. So the lawn
was always clipped, the walks and
drives were trim and neat, and flowers
bloomed in the gardens and conserva-
tories.
In all my years of study had not
forgotten my little sweetheart, Marie,
though l saw her but once after she
went away to school. | often thought
Of the slim, bright-eyed girl Of Is. and
wondered if womanhood had altered
her much. She was ever so happy
and kind then, as we walked in the
gardens and talked Of old times. But
she would not let me write to her, for
she assured = me her aunt would not
allow it. sui IN feme-bur you just
the same" she said, "and we'll meet
again, some day" Had she forgotten
her promise?.
II was during my second year at
the academy that she came home. She
had been travelling with her aunt since
she finished school, but the colonel
was not very well and had sent for
her my mother told me. How ]
dreaded to meet her! I did not go
near the stone house when | learned
she had come. My childhood dream
had been very pleasant and | feared
q rude awakening. What was I, to
hope for Col. Mason's daughter in
marriage? My parents were proud of
me and the position held. but it
would seem humble to her, an heiress.
My only crime was poverty.
Then pride came to my aid and |
said: "She shall never vent her scorn
upon me; will leave her alone"
How pretty she looked when met
her riding with her father. She flush
cd and bowed. wondered why. she
flushed. Weeks passed, but steadi.
II avoided meeting her. saw her at
church, watched her fitting about
on the grounds when I passed hel
home. Occasionally she came to see
! ny mother, but that was always when
I was ct school
One day ~ walked home from
town I INST her strolling. with only her
hrge English mastin for company,
shs was very near. I could not re
trsat Vas obliged 70 meet her and
answer her pleasant Good evening. "
Il think Jon have forgotten your old
playmate" she said.
-oA. no" I answered. Il could moi
fbrset you"
11ank you. ] know 20 lev people
: ~ that Cd friends are valued.s
I 4 haxe bssn, - very busy" ex
1neausd. sthee I 1Gya nok had oppot'
4 1ln y - ~ 80 ca caup
i 3 = posliou1ns. p1l61p ~