The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1912-10-21


# seem a little touchy, perhaps my
trip has something to do with It..
"Of course it has," returned the
pleasant voice of Priscilla West.
Coed night
"Of course it hasn't" commented
Miss Batter 10 herself, as she went
into he house There isn't place
in the world where you're welcome
for yonr own sake, and you know It,
With sunset breeze sprang up
from the south and the air grew
cooler How light the biscuits were.
and how sweet the honey! Ready
made friends. From the west WIN
dow Miss Baxter could see a gray
wall She wondered what 1t enclosed.
Perhaps she would 60 to the brow OF
the hill and make sure.
As SIZE walked down the lane that
entered the churchyard. little boy
rose from the side Of newly-made
grave. picked up crutch and stood
looking at her with wide open eyes.
Miss Baxter felt vaguely uneasy.
What are you doing here?" she
asked.
I've been planting a sweet briar.
She loved the smell Of them IN the
rain. Are you the lady that's going
TO live in the house,"
I'm going to stay spell, If no one
turns me out"
"She used to tell me stories. She
said you would. VIM you!"
Miss Baxter started She had never
told a story to child In her hfe. Here
was another of the ready-made friends.
Il don't know" she said, Perhaps 30.
Come over tomorrow and we'll talk
it over"
Summer passed into autumn, the au-
tumn brought winter In its train, the
air grew sweet with the promise OF
spring and still Miss Baxter dwelt un-
molested in the house by the cross
roads. OF the mystery Of that life
and death SO strangely linked with
hers, she understood but little. The
village folks soon learned that she
would neither listen to nor speak OF It.
Their testimony that the place had
never looked 30 we'll. and the money.
steadily growing in the ministers
care, served as balm when her con-
science stirred uneasily.
One evening in the long twilight.
Miss Baxter climbed the hin to the
to see II the flowers were
sprouting on the grave ahe had grown
to look upon as hers. Al she rose
from handling the moist earth. . wo-
man stood leaning on q neighbortng
stone. watching her Miss Baxter took
a step backward: a stalk OF sweet
briar broke and fell to the ground.
Strangers seldom visited Prattville.
and the cemetery was a mile and q
half from the village. The newcomer
wore bright plaid waist and neat
hat. but her shoes and skirt were
soiled with mud. and she chung to the
stone a. II exhausted.
Are you related to her!" asked
Miss Baxter. pointing to the mound at
her feet.
I'm Fannie" answered the stranger
with touch of defiance. came back
to see about the property l don't
suppose she left any for me. and !
don't need it. but came back to see.
Did she leave any messages for mo!"
yes, she left messages, and the
house, and friends, ready.made friends.
My name is Frances Baxter; I've
been keeping things for you. When
did you comet"
To-day. on the afternoon train. and
| walked around by the back road.
No one saw me. When | got to the
crossroads you came out Of the house
and followed you here Did she say
anything about forgiving me?"
Then it was that great purpose
and desire filed Miss Bakers soul.
II she could comfort and care for this
weary sister. II she could see her
through to the end of her brief earth
ly journey. then In very truth, she
could claim as partly hers that life
that was sleeping just over the brow
Of the hill.
Suppose you stay with me a spell
and sort Of visit. We can say you're
my cousin. and both Of us belonging
to her that's lying yonder makes us
some related. reckon You'd like 1t
here. It's pretty, slightly place, and
summers coming on. I'm lonely soul
here and you're lonely soul In the
city We'd kind of be blessing to
each other. and be living more the
way folks was intended to live"
I've been pining for the old place
for ten years, but hadn't the courage
to come back. and now it's too late.
Many's the time I've got as far as the
station to take the train. You don't
know what you're asking. amt very
strong nor very cheerful. Some
times have the horrors Nobody
in Prattville would take me in"
Fannie's hat had fallen to the floor.
and the lamplight. streaming over her
bowed head, seemed to glorify 1t in a
kindly halo of repentance Miss Bax-
ter bent forward. and gently with her