The Richmond Virginian. (Richmond, Va.) 1910-1920, 1911-10-02
By CIAARIsSA MACKIE.

Eleanor Birdsey's week at the gay
mountain resort had come to an end.
Every instant from her happy arrival
as the guest of her cousins--the
Forbes-had been filled with pleas
ure; there was painful delight in
the rush to the distant station in the
motor car filed with merry girls in
dainty attire because Jack Treadwell
was laundering along in another car
close behind.
AT the station everybody talked at
once, and it was not until the very
last moment that Jack Treadwell
found an opportunity to speak to
Eleanor.
Il shall motor back to town later
on. II l journey through Rosedaie.
may l stop and See you, Miss Bird
sey?'
Eleanor's brown eyes sought his IN
sudden trepidation. The roads are
dreadful-we are quite in the back
woods" she faltered.
Jacks face heightened. You dis
courage me-" he said quietly. FER
haps we may meet this winter.
Il am going home to Rosedale and
shall probably remain there. Good
bye. Mr.. Treadwell.' holding out her
hand, land thank you for those de-
lightful drives in the whiriwind.' she
leaned over and touched the shining
car with a gloved finger.
Then the rest of them crowded
around her once more and Eleanor
withdrew her hand from Treadwells
close grasp and made for the waiting
train.
When the last goodbye had been
l.
ing farewell from the window, the
station melted from view as the train
gathered Roadway down the steep
| grade.
| Eleanor looked wistfuliy at the
articles in her lap: each friend had
| contributed something to tho pleas
| ure OF her journey.
She was very glad that she had not
! encouraged Jack Treadwell to come
| to RosecAle. The fashionable set to
which he seemed to belong by right
OF birth or wealth was far above the
| quiet round OF her simple country life
| from which the kindness of her cou-
| sins had afforded her brief escape.
| She knew that. Treadweil was an
| artist and some one had said that he
was rich. In the hurried round OF
pleasure there had been little time for
personal talk. A poor little country
girl had nothing in common with
| these pleasure seekers now. once
more Eleanor assured herself that she
| was glad she had told Treadwell the
| roads about Rosadale were bad.
Because she was glad, the tears came
| into her eyes and her throat tight
! ened. Then the tears were wtnkeu air
| grily back and she opened a magazine.
When the lights of Rosedale pricked
out of the deepening twilight that
night the past week seemed to drop
! away. Uncle Henry tramped across
the platform TO meet her.
Hello. Eleanor. l guess Aunt
| Hester'll be glad to see you. little
(, May has got the measles. Aou'u lind
plenty to do
| Indeed the present was crowded
! with work and the brief past was
blotted out. Once in a while Eleanor
| paused In the round of some tiresome
| duty with her head poised in listen
| ing attitude, her heard beating suf-
facaungiy. X ,.s.....s.=.. ,gss.s7
The distant sound OF an au,omonile
| horn momentarily growing louder
the z-z-z-z-Zipping rush past the farm
| house-and the dying blast OF the
| horn sinking into silence.
| Then the ordinary noises of every
| day life drowned the tumult in Flea
| nor's breast, and she would resume
! her tasks bravely.
! Sometimes she wondered what Jack
! Treadwell would have thought IL he
| could have seen the plain, old fash
| Toned farmhouse with its clustering,
weather beaten outbuildings all Sc,
| in the midst OF giant locust trees ana
| Towering shrubs. 1t was very diff
| ferent from the handsome country
| residences he visited.
| One August day Eleanor was hang
! ing clothes to dry in the sunny side
! yard. Martha Zones. Aunt Hester's
measles from little May. and in high
dudgeon had taken to her bed. In a
! community where help was scarce
there was no alternative except to
! take hold and do Martha's WORK.
/ This Eleanor did with all the strength
she could put forth.
! To-day she was tired and depressed
| and feeling very much out Of 1t all
| AS she pinned the garments on the
| line. Inside the pink sunbonnet her
dark eyes shone wistfully as sne
! heard the approach OF q motor car.
! She turned her back to the road ana
pinned a sheet with exacting care.
The machine approa ched. slowed
down and stopped outside the fence.
Eleanor stood transffxed, the Sleeve.
rolled back from her round arms.
rs this Mr.. Henry Birdsey's
place." asked familiar voice--a
voice which Eleanor would never ror-
get. Her heart leaped; then she
thought Of the shabby old house. IN