The Baltimore County union, the Towson news. (Towson, Md.) 1909-1912, 1909-11-20

Mirabel ate little brown skin on the
top of her piece.
You sick?" inquired Harrison,
seeing it unfinished On her plate.
No." she answered. Il amt
very hungry.
Give it to me them He ate both
pieces and rose with another sigh.
But he came back from the door
on his way out again, hearing how
Mirabel's step Jagged, beating
back and forth from table to pantry.
Il guess you amt very rugged to-
day. said Harrison. He put big
hand on her shoulder and Mirabel
frightened. ''I'd lay down SPELL"
Her spirits came back in dancing
troop. Her face dimpled delightfully."-,
She bent her head and dropped kiss
on his sleeve.
No." she said, no. l amt tired.
Isin't ever tired, this weather. Only
l got thinkin'.'
Well, said Harrison, kindly, and
went on to the barn.
The days when Mirabel got thinking
were not very frequent but she was
conscious all the time that she did
want Harrison to like her looks. At
least, she longed to know whether he
did or not, 1t was partly hunger and
partly curiosity, but between them
they consumed her.
The next day the fever was still
upon her, and when, in the morning,
he told her he was going to the river
pasture fencing, to be gone all day,
she was glad. She could wash her
long red hair, and then coil it up de-
Gently, and by the time he came
home be ready to forget it and shake
herself down into new calmness. 1t
was sweet April morning with the
warmth of May. Harrison looked at
her almost regretfully as she ran out
to give him his little packet OF lunch
where he sat in the dingle cart, ready
to 60; ;,
he mused 'Mebbe 'twould be kind
er damp, though, settin' round out
doors all day long"
I've got lots to do" said Mlrabel'
gaily. "Good-by. I'll have some
thin for supper long about six"
When the blue cart was bobbing
away down under the old elm, she
ceased to watch it, and ran indoors,
because she meant to be SO busy, and
the outside sweetness tempted her.
She hurried through her tasks with a
lick and promise, as old Aunt Mag
used to say, the vagabond aunt who
had named her, and then got out the
little keller, and into bath of warm
suds let down her long, thick hair. 1t
was hard task for one pair of hands,
but in half an hour she was sitting out
in the yard in the full food of sun
light, with the hair streaming over
her shoulders, drying, and curling as
it dried. She rubbed it, and played
with it, and tossed it up to let the air
blow through it, and when the bronze
red kinks, like growing things all
alive, were clustering over her head,
she still sat there, holding up the
ends of it to let the sunlight in again.
Good morning." said voice.
Mirabel gave a little cry. She
dropped her hair, and parted the
golden fleece to look at him. She
knew him at orce. He was the man
who boarded two miles away on the
Sudleigh road, and put up his great
umbrella in the midst OF meadows,
and sat there painting all day long.
He was short, stout man, with a
grayish, pointed beard, and eyes set
very far under straggly brows. He
carried the umbrella closed, and other
things she did not understand.
Good morning." said he again.
II want to paint your hair.
Mirabel gathered it about her, this
time like mantle. She said dnothing.
He was opening camp-stool. and,
without looking at her, kept on talk
ing:
II guess you can give me sitting,
can't you? Give me all the time
you'v got today. I'm going away
tomorrow. Wish I could stay longer,
but sail Saturday. l didn't know
there was such hair within hundred
miles"
She half rose from her seat. He
seemed kind, and also irresistible,
but she felt like flying into the house,
and doing her hair up tight and firm
and not looking at it all day long.
Why" said he. you mustn't be
afraid. You wouldn't be afraid to
have your photograph taken, now
would you"
No" said Mirabel. almost in
audibly.
"Well, then only want to make
a picture of your hair. Sit still, like
a good girl, and let me do it." He
had unstrapped other things. He
was seated before her. She could
not flee. But her face quivered lit
tie. She felt as if she were going to
cry. He had been dabbing colors on
his palette, and row he leaned back
and looked at her, his head on one
side. She felt her chin trembling.
That's right" he said. Part it
little more away from your face.
That's good. 1 want you to seem to
be looking through it. There, that's
exactly right Then he began to
work,
Mirabels chin shook more and
more, but he either did not see it, or
he did not seem to mind. Suddenly
he began talking. 1t might have
been to himself, though it sounded
partly as if he were reading from a
book.
"Once upon a time there was lit
tie girl, and she had red hair. Whyr'
he glanced at her with a queer sur
prise in his lifted eyebrows, it was
Just like yours. Isn't that odd ?
Well, she went to school with other
girls, and none of them had red hair.
None of the boys had, except one,
and his was real carroty red, and he