Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-01-29

IL, ami the light of the early morning
Iav yellow upon the faded hills that
banked the horizon to the south In lroh.
of the little implanted house, the srouho'
red brown ith dwarf oak and elm, drop
red sharply to the Souris river beio",
tnat ran shallow over it's sandy bed -
iofn the Assiniboine in the long, long
march TO the sea
Inside of the little house tired won-
an. coIorless as the faded hills and fields,
listlessly prepared the breakfast. The
wind was rising already and the tran be-
fore the door smoked with dust. She
looked YEARLY across the fields Inc
harvest was over. the summer was ended
Bands of black piowing crossed the fields
for the preparation for next years SOW
ing had begun. Yellow straw pies,
through which herds of cattle foraged,
gave i touch of color tc the amending
gray deafness.
1t had been an abundant harvest, "A
wonderful yield, they said but 1t was All
WEAKNESS to her. Her eyes ached, her
shoulders were bent like an old womans,
her hands were roughened and sore-she
looked at them pitying.y. And still Tom
loved this country. this great, busy,
hurrying, pitiless country. How could
he? She could not understand it.
Tom came in for his breakfast. He
was a handsome. big fellow, clear-eyed
and wholesome, with face of beamlnS
good nature, a man born for out of doors,
for the blue sky and the open. He walked
briskly across the room.
I'VE haven't had much time for chat
lately, Mildred he said. as he washed
his face in the little enameled basin that
stood on a box in the corner. But isn't
il fine to have all the grain safe in the
elevator? -Four thousand bushels, Mil
dred, Not too bad, is it, old girl?'
Not too bad" she repeated. listlessly.
She was looking out of the little fly
specked window the dust lay thick upon
the sill-she could smell it.
The dead grass rolling in pillows
as the wind swept screaming past the
little house, and the dust, rising-always
the dust: oh. how she hated it,
Tom did not notice The smell of fry
ing bacon was sweet to him. The coun-
try was glorious-he had planted the seed
and he had seen it grow-it was a great
country, free and fruitful, and many
broad acres of it were his: He loved 1t.
80
How would it be if we went into town
today, Mildred?" he said as he finished
his breakfast. II want to see about some
new machinery and maybe there's some
thing you want. l going to try one
of those new disk harrows-they're the
best thing to cut the sod
But Mildred was not listening. Neither
did she look al him.
Hurry up, Mildred, and we'll go before
dinner he was saying.
NO, i don't want to co. she said at
last. II am not going: l can't go. Tom
Tom looked at her with distress on his
boyish face.
What's wrong, Mildred? What's
wrong old girl?"
Nothing she answered. and her tone
came near to being shrewish
Tom went out and htched his horses
to the plow in silence. He wouldn't go
to town without Mildred-he had lost his
ambition to see about the disk harrow
For what could be wrong with Mildred?
She had always been CHEEKY. When
the hail had come the year before and
battered down his crop and with it all
his hopes he remembered how he had
come back to the house, after looking at
his ruined fields, and cried like disap-
pointed child. 1t was Mildred who was
brave: she would not let him despair.
He thought Of ii now-how she had put
new life. new hope. in him. II Mile
went back him what good was any
thing?
The long furrow stretching the even
mile lay before him. Overhead, in the
crisp October air. V-shaped flock OF
wild geese honked. flying so high they
seemed like tiny specks beneath the
blue The steam of a thresher made a
cloud against the Tiger Hills in the dis
tance. and its industrious hum came to
N~,,,,,,
stubti>. prairie chicken ran in the fur
row ahead of his horses, and then. whirr-
ing. rose and circled over his head.
1T is lovely country" he. thought
he breathed in the freshness of the
morning, "a great big. lovely country
but what can be wrong with Miller"
Indoors Mildred worked listlessy. The
silence was heavy. broken only by the
flies that buzzed INCREASINGLY; even the
clock had stopped-she had forgotten TO
wind 1t in the busy days before. She
wondering vaguely what had hap
pened TO all her ambtions-she had had
so many plans. SO many hopes! She had
even told herself that she liked the coun-
try. She thought of those first days-t
seemed ages ago-when she and Tom had
thought il such fun to be keeping house.
The little stove with its funny little tin
pots and pans had all been SO new and
shiny: and the dainty frilled curtains,
and the cretonnecovered chairs-how
proud she had been of them. Now they
were all dull and worn and grimy. their
beauty gone-like her own, she thought,
sadly but without bitterness. 1t was all
part of the country, this pitiless, hurry
ing. busy country. She wiped the dust
listlessly from the window ledge. A slip
of paper fell to the floor; she took It up
and blew the dust from it, 1t was a cut
ting from newspaper, and line met
her eye:
The brides gong-away dress was Of
seal-brown broadcloth with a smart
brown toque to match, and she made
charming picture She