The Topeka state journal., 1913-04-19
TIE EVENING Story
The Roadsend Parson.
(By Jane Osborn.)

The winds that blew around Parson
Borden's solitary little cabin always
carried with them a note of loneliness
Even when they blew across the
| they were apt to rankle the parsons
soc1able heart and remind him un-
pleasantly of the desolateness of the
situation. But on this late winter
| evening as the snow Sifted in through
| the shingles of the cabin, and swirled
I up through the cracks of the door, the
! sound OF the wind was positively ter
rifyiEg.
1t was o'clock, and the parson sat
smoking before his open fire. By way
! of keeping off the draughts he had
! pulled faded, Observation-Disclosures
| red sweater over his rough gray shirt
| and looked anything but clerical, in
| fact in the three years that Sidney
Borden had spent as missionary min
| lster of the mountain region around
Roadsend, practically all of the cler-
ical exterior he had acquired in the
seminary had worn off. In the busy
| round of his self-imposed duties as
school teacher, doctor, agricultural
advisor and general friend-in-need he
had little time for sermons and church
services.
AS Sidney sat at the fire he pulled
vigorously at his pipe to drive away
the sound Of the wind Then he went
and got the small, old fashioned cIyin-
der music box which had been one of
the contributions Of the most recent
missionary barrel, sent from a
the music cylinder had lost about half
of the small teeth, or it would never
nave fourd its way into the barrel
The result of this deficiency was that
it produced a rather meaningless sue
ceSSion of tinkling sounds, with now
and then a few notes which the par
son recognized as strains from ''Tra-
viata," the SOLDIERS Chorus or "Lo
hengrin." He wound it vigorously and
placed close beside
hearth and then sat and listened at
tentively for the familiar strains.
This seemed almost to drive out the
sound of the wind, and Sidney was
just bending down to rewind the little
instrument when he heard an un-
usually strong rattle at the door. He
looked up, realized that some one was
at the door and opened it. Then he
saw Jerusha, the old stage driver.
lantern in hand, and beside him a
much beshawled and bemuffled figure
of a woman-the figure of Marie
Reagh, though, of course, with all the
mufflers and shawls and in the dim
light neither Jerusha nor Sidney real |
lied that her figure was young and
graceful.
'.I reckon this is where you are to
STOP Jerusha drawled to the woman. |
1T is the parsonage and here is the |
parson.' Then, turning to Sidney: |
''She says she is the new teacher for |
st. Matilda's, and that she is to go on |
in the morning. You'1l be lucky if you
dom get stuck with her for another
day with all this storm coming"
Then in another minut Jerusha
had plowed back to his sleigh, and
and Marie were standing rath-
er helplessly trying to make explana-
tions. st. Matilda's was small church
school for mountain girls about five
miles further on in the mountains. 1t
was conducted by a tall, rigid lady,
who, though she was Sidney's nearest
struck terror to his heart.
s,,%
ton written in this lady's faultless
hand, askingeSidney to accommodate
the young woman, Miss Reagh, and
then drive her over to the school. 1t
was a usual exchange of courtesies.
but as Marie proceeded to take off the
disguise of her many shawls and wells
and to warm herself by his open fire
he had misgivings.
81 am very sorry 1 haven't a decent
place to offer you-that is, you see I
live alone here. I spend SO many
days and nights travelling through
the mountains that it isn't safe to
keep a housekeeper. You see,
live in a rather rough fashion. have
a school here in the daytime, when {
the weather is good enough" he said,
by way of explaining the rows OF
desks which cluttered one end of the
living room.
yes" admitted Sidney. "But It
is perfectly all right your being
here. I frequently sleep in the
the-in a small house on the place."
he said thinking he could somehow :
make a bed in his small barn, and :
If you can manage to rough it here !
you're exceedingly welcome" :
Sidney had never felt SO embar- :
rassed in his life. He had forgotten, !
since he had seen only the clumsily |
dressed daughters of the mountain !
folk, that women were such exquisite I
things, and now all the charm of it '
rushed in upon him. ii
by the way" he said, picking up {
mis- music box from the hearth and
offering her the large chair. "Of Z
course you haven't had supper" and Y
,wenty minutes later they were sit r
ing before the fire at the little table. c
aughing over the supper that they t
lad both made ready. i
"And now you are to be teacher
1t St Matilda's?" he asked finally. t
Marie blushed- You see I have i
spent all my life in the city," she Il
explained, 1.-The last few years tied 8
iown in an office. Then one day when '
he minister of a church I sometimes I
lsed to go to talked about the poor s
people down here and the a
work to be done, I decided 1 would
cave the city forever. I had no one a
O keep me. So I told the minister
would do whatever was needed. and .
lie said he wanted a teacher for ST =
Iatilda's.'
Sidney laughed, rather puzzled at o