Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-01-25

hand. her overshoe In the other. ehe drew back tride, just enough to bfinG my conscience to its knees.
 T didn't mean to listen that day. just happened to be on the wall. and 1t was thoroughly underbred trick my twitting you about it--and should have told you before if I'd known how to see you-"
 May trouble you for that shoe?'' she said with tremendous dignity.
 They taught that cold disdain of man, l suppose, as g required study at St. Agatha's.
 "Oh. certainly! Won't you allow mel"
 Thank you, mol"
 She took the damp bit of rubber-a wet overshoe, even if small and hal lowed by associations. isn't pretty--as Venus might have received soft shell crab from the hand of fresh young merman. was between her and the steps to which her eyes turned longingly.
 "Of course, If you won't accept my apology can't do anything about 1t; but hope you understand that I'm sincere and humble, and anxious to be forgiven"
 You seem to be making good deal of . small matter"
 T wasn't referring to the overshoe!" I said.
 She did not relent.
 If you'll only go away"
 She rested one hand against the corner of the boat house, while she afiixed the overshoe to her foot. She wore, noticed, brown gloves with cuffs.
 How can go away! You children are always leaving things about for me to pick up. I'm perfectly worn out carrying some girls beads about with me; and I spoiled good glove on your overshoe."
 'I'll relieve you of the beads. if you please"
 She thrust her hands into the pock- cts of her coat and shook the tam-o'- shanter slightly, to establish 1t in a more comfortable spot on her head. The beads had been in my corduroy coat since found them. I drew them out and gave them to her.
 Thank you; thank you very much. !"
 "Of course they are yours. Miss"
 She thrust them into her pocket.
 "Of course they're mine," she said indignantly, and turned to go.
 well waive proof of property and that sort of thing. I'm sorry not to establish a more neighborly feeling with St. Agatha's. The stone wall may seem formidable, but it's not of my building. I must open the gate. That walls trifle steep for climbing" !"
 was amusing myself with the idea that my identity was dark mystery to her. had read English novels in which the young lord of the manor is always mistaken for the game-keepers son by the pretty daughter of the curate who has come home from school to be the belles of the county. But my lady of the red tam-o' '-shanter was not . creature of illusions.
 ''It serves very good purpose-the wall, l mean-Mr. Glenarm."
 She was walking down the steps and I followed. pleased to hear my name from her lips. l am not a man to suf- fer lost school girl to cross my lands unattended in a,snow Htorm: and the piazza of boat house is not, submit. a pleasant loafing place on . winter day. She marched before me. her Aands in her pockets-I liked her par ticularly that way-with an easy swing and a light and certain step. Her re. mark about the wall did not encourage further conversation and I fell back upon the poets.
 "stone walls do not . prison make.
 Nor iron bars . cage"
 quoted.
 T have heard that-before" she said, half turned her face and laughed as she hastened on.
 Her brilliant cheeks were . delight to the eve ~s~ ~-~w ewirIed abou'