The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-08-10

CHAPTER

Tormentllla grew in a ScramDllnS
fashion, half in the ditch and half
out of it; and caught the quick eye
of a fellow-traveler with its bright
color.
What a dear little red fower!"
The girl picked a gay bunch of il
and pinned it into her blue p~inaforc
for the singular garment she wore
looked more like a %pinafore wholly
wanting in frills than anything else.
It was a kind of.half-fitting blue linen
tunic, showing clearly the vigorous
lines of her spare, boyish figure, and
giving perfect freedom to her swing
ing walk. 1t hung by shoulder-straps
over a white blouse. She was not
handsome. certainly, and very brown
altogether; in her hair and eyes and
skin. Her face was square, and her
large eyes set in her face at an angle
that was almost Japanese. Her
mouth, too, was large and almost as
red as Tormentilla itself, and she
wore her heavy hair hanging in a
long, thick pigtail over her shoulders.
Her simple straw hat was pushed for
ward over her eyes, and it was only
when you were as close to her as Tor
mentilla was, that you noticed the
miserable, moody look they held. She
swung down the two miles of long
white road from Malinder House to
the little town which sat at its gates
and %worshiped it, and you saw, II
you watched her closely, that n
way was as bad as another to her,
and that she only walked at all to
kill her thoughts and dull some dead
ly pain. 1t seemed too bad that such
pain should scar a young heart which
had until quite lately demanded,
found, and taken it's pleasure and its
Joy of life as a right.
An ancient weather-prophet, scan
ming the cloudy CLEAN of the sky
with an owlish pretense of wisdom,
Jumped at the opportunity of making
a remark as she passed by his little
white gate.
e.. young woman" he said, ARE you
sware that you're wearing a common
weed in your gown"
IT'S rather a sweet little thing
she said, smiling as she touched IL
caressingly with her ~finger-tips.
''What do you call it,"
The ancient beamed at her.
"If you'd a ayed any one else in
this na%yburudd," said he with de-
light, they could have guv no an
swer. Tormentiller is it's name. 1t
: is a humble wayside branch OIL the
. great Potentiller family. l am a
member of the horticultural society
Of this town, and of three botanical
societies in the nayburudd."
"How nice," said she politely.
.'Tormentilla. It's a prickly sort OF
name-a nettlish name-isn't it,
Much more suitable name for a
creature that's a torment to itself and
every one it comes in contact with,
she murmured miserably as she went
on her way.
At the corner where the road to
Four Meadows branches off to the
left, q long black and white house
rose on her right hand. 1t was an
excellent imitation of the old tim
bered houses proper to the county,
and she stopped to read the Drass
plate on the gate. ;
$50 this is where DR.. CogWbeel
lives" said she.
She walked into the surgery and
sat down on a round cane chair. Inc
hack number of the Autocar which
she took up seemed to distress her IN
some unaccountable way, and her
ewes filed with impatient tears as
she gazed out of the window at the
neat %bedded-out designs on the lawn,
in scarlet geraniums and blue loOella
and prim, round, gray-blue saxiirage
like dolls cabbages.
Gracious, what a deadly hole!'
she murmured dismally, and flung the
Autocar, with a vicious twist of her
wrist, at an irritating %bluebottle in
the window. Shut up, you buzzing
little wretch" she cried, and the
bluebottle did shut up-forever.
Then suddenly a clear, fresh voice
in the passage caught her ear, a rus
tie outside the door, a smell OF violet
scent. She hated scent. The door
opened and a girl came in with a
rush; a radiant, dazzling vision for
moody eyes, one would have thought.
A girl like a primrose, in a white
dress with a little green flower on it;
a girl with soft, light, bright hair
and sea-bIue eyes Swallowed by dark
lashes; a girl with a complexion like
apple-blossom and a smile which
drew T%ormentilla to her feet in a
hurry, with a glare.
"Dr. Cogwheel?" she asked
sharply.
The vision dimpled and laughed.
"Oh, no." she said; I'm so sorry
I'm not, but 1 can't belp it. can ~
"Can I see him, please?'
"I'm afraid not. 1t is most unfor-
tunate, but he had a patient who
would insist upon seeing him instead
of one of the assistants. So incon-
siderate, we thought, but the man
was dying, and what could father
do?"
The dimples and the coming and
going of the apple-blossom in those
young cheeks were so awakening OF
%distracting memories to the girl IN