The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1908-09-10
My the beginning Of il. This was FRI

only the beginning OF It. This was FRI
day.
On the Sunday. a rumor OF the order
having gone abroad. a larger congrega-
ton than Usual streamed across the
chase to church, prepared to hear ome
new thing. They were disappointed.
Sir Anthony stalked In. rs of old,
through the double ranks of people
waiting at the door to receive him, and
after him Ferdinand and his wife and
Petronilla and Baldwin and every SER
want from the house save a o or two
and the porter. The church vas full.
Seldom has such a congregation been
seen in IT. But all passed as of old.
Father Carey's hand shook indeed, and
his voice quavered, but he went
through the ceremony Of the mass. Ind
all vas dom In Latin. A little change
would have been pleasant, some
thought. But no n In this country
place on the borders of the forest held
very strong views. No bishop had come
hereto hunting to Cotton End. No abbey
existed to- excite dislike by it's extrav-
agance, or by it's license, or by the
swarm of ragged idlers IT supported.
Father Carey was the most harmless
and kindest of men. The villagers did
not care one way or the other. To them
Sir Anthony was king. and IL any one
felt tempted to interfere the old
knights face, as he gazed steadfastly
at the brass eff1gy of O Cludde who had
fallen in Spain fighting against the
Moors, warned the meddler to be silent.
And so Of that Sunday all. went well.
But some one must have told tales. for
early In the week there came a strong
letter Of remonstrance from the sheriff,
who was an old friend of Sir Anthony,
and OF his own free will, 1 fancy, would
have wtnked But he was committed
to the Professionals and bound to stand
or fall with them. The choleric knight
sent back an answer by the same mes
senger. The sheriff replied, the knight
reJoined-having his brother always at
his elbow. The upshot Of the CORE
spondence was an announcement on
the part of the sheriff that he should
send his officers to the next service to
see that the queens order was obeyed
and a reply on the part Of Sir Anthony
that he should as certainly put the men
In the duck pond. Some inkling OF this
state OF things got abroad and spread
as a September fire flies through q
wood, so that there was like to be such.
a congregation at the next service to
witness the trial OF strength as would
throw the last Sundays gathering alto
gether into the shade.
1t was clear at last that Sir Anthony
himself did not think that there was
the end Of 1t, for on that Saturday
afternoon he ook g. remarkable walk.
He called Petronilla after dinner and
bade her get her hood and come with
him, n the girl, who had seen so little
of her father In the last month. and
who, what with umo and fears and
surmises. was eating her heart out,
obeyed him with Joy. 1t was a fne
frosty day near the close Of December.
Sir Anthony led the way yer the plank
bridge which CLOSED the moat in the
rear OF the house Inc tramped steadily
through the home farm toward q hill
called the Woodman's View, which
marked the border of the forest. He
did not talk, but neither was he sunk
in reverie. AS he entered each field he
stood and scanned 1t, at times merely
nodding, at times smiling; or again
muttering a few words. suc as, THE
three acre piece! My father inclosed
it," or, THAT is where Ferdinand killed
the old mare!" or. THE best land for
wheat on this side of the housed" The
hill climbed. he stood a long time gaz-
ing over the landscape, cycling first the
fields and meadows which stretched
away from his feet toward the house,
the latter. as seen from this point, los
ing all it's stateliness In the mass Of
stacks and ricks and barns and gran
aries which surrounded It. Then his
eyes Travelled farther in the same line
to the broad expanse Of woodland
Cotton Chase-through which the road
passed along a ridge as straight as an
arrow. To the right were more fields,
n here and there amid them a home
stead with its smaller ring of stacks
and barns. When he turned to the left,
his eyes, passing owe the shoulders Of
Brant hill. and Mill Head copse and
Beacon hill, all bulwarks Of the forest,
followed the streak of river as 1t wound
away toward Stratford through lusci-
u flood meadows. here growing wide
and there narrow as the woodland ad-
vanced or reiterated.
1T is all mine" he said as much to
himself as to h girl. 1T is all Cludde
land as far as you can see."
There were tears in her eyes, and she
had to turn away to conceal them. Why
she hardly knew, for he said nothing
more, and he walked down the hill dry
eyed. but all the way home he still
looked sharply about, noting this or
that, as If he were bidding farewell to
the old familiar objects. the ~spinneys
and copses-aye, and the very gates
and gaps and the hollow trees where
the owls built. 1t was the saddest and
most pathetic walk the girl had ever
taken. Yet there was nothing said.
Continued Next weekJ
Conniption Fit.