New-York tribune., 1912-03-17
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR MARCH IL. 1912

toned tears rose blindingly to her eyes.
This was the reason of her unrest, her home
sick feeling Of incompleteness and distaste!
The years were piling up on her, and she, a
woman, had no single person who was her
very own to love. She had done nothing
with her life, had but one talent to show for
the one that had been given her, and con-
sciouSnesS of failure and of loss swept
through her rackingly Her arms ached
with their lifelong emptiness, and with all
her heart she envied the tiny feathered crea-
ture whose anxious eyes still watched her.
The years to come stared her in the face,
tragic in their futility.
And then, suddenly, through her tears,
Miss Penelope laughed.
Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost
and waiting for you. Go!
Why not for her? She had waited long
enough for fortune to come to her. Now she
would 90 tot-She would not turn back until
she knew what lay behind her Ranges. She
wiped her eyes with the back Of her glove
and turned toward the crest of the hill again,
this time with the light of adventure, per-
haps Of hope, in her eye.
THE road looked uninteresting now, as if
L it had bestowed all that 1t had to give,
and leading over the summit 1t rambled
aimessly down into a valley very like the
one that she had left. Still though rather
disappointed, she rode on, looking for farm
house where she might water poor Merry
and find luncheon for herself; for, though
Miss Pcnclope's manners and emotions had
been carefully pruncd all her life, her appe-
tite was still quite normal. At last she
caught a glimpse through grove OF oaks OF
a fine old house bearing something OF the
ASPECT Of a modest English manor, sur
rounded by meadows and plowed lands
which bespoke the affluent farmer.
As she rode slowly down an avenue OF
arching trees fash Of color from behind the
hedge caught her eye, and she drew over to
the side Of the road to seek its origin. What
she saw there made her forget her hunger IN
amazcment and delight. a bit Of child, IN
pink frock and sunbonnet, was trying to
squeeze closer to the protecting hedge, draw
ing her curls, like little ostrich, over her
rosy face
Miss Penelope sprang down and slipped
Mcrry's bride over her arm, then lifted the
child across the hedge and set her gently on
her feet before her. The little lass glanced
shvly at her, and Miss Penelope caught her
breath at a fccting glimpse Of deep, dark
blue eyes.
What is your name, Dcar:' she asked,
one soft hand resting on the little shoulder.
"Pcnclope," answered the child quickly,
and then buried her face in the skirt Of the
beautiful lady's habit, overcome by a sud
den burst Of shyncSs.
Penelope \ wild, half born wonder
sprang to life in Miss Pcnelope's brain at the
name and she stood staring across the hedge
as though she could read the answer in the
rolling meadow land. She had never known
where lanes Brompton lived, other than
| that it was down in the country somewhere;
| but this child'S eyes, her name
"Whcre do you live, little one:' she asked
at last.
The tiny girl nodded toward the house;
but her eyes rested on Miss Pcnelope'S face,
and after second scrutiny she slipped her
soft. pink little palm into hers. Miss Pene-
lopc thrilled at the touch of the little clIngng
| fingers. but with children she was shy, and
she gave no sign other than sudden color
| in her checks.
Are YOU afraid Of horsos:" she said now,
drawing Merry nearer.
At that the adorable little mite actually
laughed. her whole roSc-caf face wrlnkllng
couicallv. and she reached up to touch the
Imarc's shining shoulder with a little tcnta-
tive carcss. She had known horses all her
| short life: but she would try the temper OF