Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-04-12

tired out no mora" He spoke in a mel
| low drawl.
"Motherll never In the world let me
marry a Treadway that's got our South
| Piece"
| Eye don't view ct tibet father cheated
We out O. tibet land" coolly.
| IF l did. would I talk with you one
minute?" flashed the girl.
| I'VE marry me. and I'll give We tn south
piece for bridal present. ThetN fix yer
| mother complete.
| "Oh. Ambrose don't-Im not-maybe
| don't care enough for yOu-
| "Why not?''
The girls look sfuttered over the dark
eneo pastures then back to his compell-
ing eyes ITS terribly silly. all girls are
| sometimes, and mother she thinks I'm
| worse'n common. Twelve got an IDEAL"
1.-The Old Boy. It's that new minister
over ter Pond Meader!''
| Him! That white-faced thin-why. he
couldn't drive one of your colts round
| this lot"
Ambrose laughed the comfortable toler-
alton Of big man for a little one. He
amt got no call ter, 1 guess. He's dread
| full poplar over ter tn meader. Yer
cousin Emily speary was tellin' me only
yesterday he he'd 'movin' ways"
He don't move me! It's not any real
man. Ambrose: it's just one I've made up
in my head"
II know, dear" his voice was very low.
"hes more educated than / be- an he s
got prettier ways O. dom things, an. he
amt so kind O. stodgy bout sayin' out
his feeln's. I amt no ways worthy O.
We; 1 don't need ter be told tibet. But he
can't love ye no more'n / do. honey, an
always will. an he can't try no harder
ter be good ter We. an ter take care o.
ye an make We happy" His voice failed
at the end.
Saloam's heart gave q great beat. Her
lover had never before humbled himself
to her. An impulse was upon her to
throw her arms about him and comfort
him. IF I ever do-care, why do you
think it will be?" She was gay to lift the
strain. 1T will be because you under
stand things"
Things means you-dont it. dear?"
You don't think me queer?'
The mans eyes held humor as we'll as
tenderness. II think we're pretty nice"
You're not queer, Ambrose; I'd hate
you If you were. Your paintings done on
time. and you plant the kind of things
you ought. and your farms thriving, and
all the men come to you for advice and
every one respects you. Oh. you're just
like smart, good folks everywhere" help
lessly struggling with definitions. but 1
L
guess. Mother says I'm queer every day
she lives. and Grandmother Judd and
Emily and oh. every one! Sometimes I
think I'd full as leaf they'd say 1 was
How queer? He was watching the
color surge and ebb In her soft cheeks. her
big eyes burn and glow.
AS If you didn't know! l don't want
up things they'd never want to. And
sometimes I'm just so glad I'm alive 1
want to run and sing. and maybe there
amt the smallest reason for 1t, 'cept just
the suns come out bright or I've found a
whole bed O. wind flowers: and then I'll
be down and discouraged, and no sense
for that, either I try to make folks I'M
derstand, but my country! I can't I'M
derstand myself. and it amt any wonder
they don't.
AS she talked she laid hold Of his arm
with her eager little hands Ambrose
slipped them quietly down into his. She
did not notice.
Il amt goin' ter dispute your mother.
nor the Elder neither. Ye're ez queer ez
Winkin' Abel or Sammie Bramble over
through"
saloam laughed sweetly. Then her eyes
clouded. What was he really, this big.
good-humored man she had known all
her life. whose eyes seemed always full
Of some secret joke and whose easy
going voice could utter such sharp truths?
him. with a rest and security like that
the woods gave her. That alluring. mystic
rious terrifying 3oy-sorrow that made life
for her seem when she was with him
just simple and sweet. Had he found some
great explanation of 1t beyond her ken
or was he content because he only slipped
over its surface? When the stress came
upon her, would he be kind and helpless,
or would he understand?
n
"If I could just once be sure" she
painted. leaning toward him.
"Saloam! Sal-oam! Ye come right in:
yen git yer death O. danger out en- them
night fogs. Don't yer peer round fer no
green's an berries ter-night fur there
amt none.'
muslin and worked collar, awaited her
daughter on the front porch the next
night. A Whit Of the best-company tea
fioated through the open door.
''Is 1t tea party. mother?'
"Ye- walk right en- ter supper just eZ
We be-" beamed the Widow Judd.
why. mother! You're a WITCH
On the fower-decked table was the
white and gold platter holding clear.
bright lettuce. and the Grandma Speary
bowl full of Strawberries.
That was a happy week. The Widow
Judd continued to beam on an unworthy
world; especially upon her little daughter.
and fresh vegetables and Strawberries
continued to adorn the supper table.
Pow do you get 'em. dear?" Saloam
asked one night.
"Widder Cruisers jug o. oil.' quoting
q famous meetin' speech of Capn Wis
dom Dicky's. and Saloam was satisfied.
"Ain't 1t an awful close night?" Saloam
was mounting the stairs to her little bed
room under the caves. My'room's hot
tern election. Do let's drag our mat
tresses down stairs and sleep on the
keeping room floor
The Widow Judds voice came solemnly
from the room across the landing: ''Sa-
loan Augusty, there's been fifteen o. yer
kin buried from tibet forenoon, includin'
Greatuncle 'Paphroditas Melvin. tibet died
on visit here tn year We wuz born, an
/ amt gOin' ter hev ct use common eff we
stif1e."
Conscious of having offered insult to
the family names. Saloam crept into bed.
Deep in the night she woke with start.
Some one was stealing, inch by inch,
down the stairs and across the kitchen
floor Horrid tales Of tramps flashed into
her memory. She sprang out of bed and
darted into her mothers room. The big
moon showed an empty bed with covers
neatly turned back. She hurried back