Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-04-12
A Bit of Spring. '''''e' "* s%::;: ''''%"''
Copyright.

| into her own room. which looked out on
| the garden. Her mother was moving
across the moon-patch.
| rs she going to the well?" murmured
the girl.
The figure passed the old sweep and be-
came part of the shadows under the apple
trees. Saloam snatched a quilt, thrust
her feet into knit slippers and was down
stairs and out. Through the garden to-
ward the barn glided the widow. and
shadow like followed Saloam, careful not
to startle the sleepwalker. Before them.
| bright in the moonlight. lay the South
| Piece. Into it. climbing the low wall,
went the widow. Saloam saw she carried
a basket. She began to step about among
the early peas, picking ere a pod, there
a handful. Her face was toward Saloam
| for an instant: she was wide awake. her
eyes peered about sharply. and each time
she moved to new spot she scuff1ed the
earth with her feet. When the mess of
pease was complete she crossed to the
! strawberry patch and began to work
| there.
Saloam twisted her 1.-THE body under the
| bushes, crawled, scratched and torn,
| through the blackberries beyond, and fled,
noiseless as a deer, to the house. AT the
| door she snatched off her dusty slippers
| and darted upstairs. One idea filled her
whirling brain, her mother must not know
she had been discovered.
The moon sank, the sun peeked over
Lyme Hills. and still Saloam lay in dry
| fever OF misery. Her beloved. revered
| mother thief, hypocrite a white sep
| ulchre! She. with her ridiculous COM
plants for the spring to eat. had dragged
her mother into crime against sthe law
| and mortal sin against God. Was any one
true? Did Deacon Starkey lie, and Elder
| Watrous murder?
MY landy laws! e. We don't look
meachin'.." The Widow Judd faced at
daughter She herself was as fresh and
serene the morning. Eye eat some O
them berries tibet wuz lef' last night;
they'll be kinder tasty"
Maybe Ambrose will be down by the
brook" Saloam thought as she started for
| school. Though she be consumed by the
fire In her brain, she would do her duty
by Pond Meadow District and its future
Websters. The thought Of Ambrose had
been like a strong, cool wind all that
burning night. Somehow, he could mend
the ruin of her world: he always had.
Then, in sudden despair. she knew size
could not tell Ambrose Even from him
she must protect her poor little mother.
She must never see him again in the old
happy. friendly way, his eyes would read
her secret.
Steadily as an Indian Saloam lived those
miserable days, teaching and coming home
to a smiling mother, ready with fresh
greens and berries" She struggled never
to talk to Ambrose, she hid from him,
lodged about him. fed before him and
then, after ALL at the end Of the fifth
day, as she plodded home the long route
through the woods she came upon him
suddenly, seated on rock by the path.
mo. We can't hide from me this time"
he said. stepping in front of her. Il
home by Nineveh an thet's ten mile
Good afternoon. Ambrose
The mans face softened. Honey, ye're
sick!''
mo" :
'Then yere plagued bout somethin
Yo tell me what. an l guess we kin fix
things up so it'll be all right
Nothing
He took both her hands in his and
drew her close to him. Her miserable
not speak.
/ "Yc poor little girl! What is it?''
Saloam trembled phifully. He was so
near, SO comforting and strong! Then
there slipped in among the ferns and
grasses little old figure, her sinful, low
ing mother.
She wrenched her hands away: she
spoke with all the last shreds of her
worn-out strength. You take a great
deal for granted. Ambrose Treadway.
affairs amt yours. Let me by!' She
ran stumbling along the path for fear he
might follow her. But Ambrose did not
stir. CHANGING back she left the woods
she saw him still standing in the path,
his eyes on the ground.
That night the rain. long prayed for
by the farmers. fell In sheets. Saloam.
dragging through the dreary. sleepless
hours, shivered as she heard 1t on her
roof.
The sun was shining on an earth. sweet
and new washed as Saloam started next
morning for school At the gate she met
Cap'n Wisdom Dicky-Samuel in baptism.
but rechristened by a ne.ghborhood un-
appreciative OF what 1t called them
chucks o. wisdom graciously offered by
the ancient mariner.
"Mornin', Saloam: mornin, Cinthy Am
brose Treadway he's asked me ter go
long o him an his hired man over ter
Brashan Center. Ann she's got ter go
over ter Pond Meader with her butter. an
though Melissy's a-gettin' long consid' BILE
smart yit her legs don't sarve her much.
So come over ter see eff yed go set with
her a spell, Cinthy. till Ann gifts back"
I'll be right long, tell Melissy" called
the Widow Judd down the path in answer
to Cap'n Wisdoms cheerful shout. eye
an Ambrose air settin out on consid BILE
Of jaunt I view ct We won't be hum till
come night.
That day. the last of school, SaIoam re-
warded the faithful few still IN the
benches by closing early. She hurried
homo through the woods that she might
cast her tired body on the bed out of
sight and sound OF all the world
At the edge of the Judd farm she
stopped in suddenly sharpened misery.
She had caught sight of her mother steal
ing under the apple trees toward the
Treadway farm. She remembered that
Ambrose and Nathan would both be gone
all day. and that Sarah Frances never
stirrer further than the we'll. Unable to
go either forward or back, she crouched
in the shadow of the barn.
The Widow Judd made but hasty pick
ings. Perhaps she feared the unexpected
in the form Of q neighbor; perhaps her
own act viewed in the sunlight. wore a
different face than when wreathed about
by the moonbeams.
When the kitchen door closed with a
don't-care bang, Saloam started to her
feet, then sank down in horror with a
quivering sigh. There in the ounce
bushes where she had hidden the first