The Ekalaka eagle. [volume] (Ekalaka, Mont.) 1909-1920, 1913-09-19

like to have me fora daughter:""
Indeed, l would said the miller
heartily: If Aglaia had lived I could
wish for nothing better than for her to
have grown up to be Just such a little
woma as you are. Maybe you are
Aglaia,' he continued, falling III with
her playful mood. cant you remem
Der when we lived at the mill?"
Miss Chester fell swiftly into serious
meditation. Her large eyes were fixed
vaguely upon something in the dis
lance. Father Abram was amused at
her quick return to seriousness.
No. she said at length, with a
long sigh. Il can't remember anything
at all about a mill. don't think that
l eve saw a -four mill in my life until
/ saw your funny little church. And If
l were your little girl l would remem-
Der 1t, wouldn't l? I'm SO sorry, Fa-
Their Abram."
$50 am l." said Father .Abram. hui
moring her. But if YOU cannot re-
member that you are my little girl,
Miss Rose, surely you can recollect be-
AAS WAN 81 ClSC =. VI 1C1lC1uOCl
your " parents. of course
"Oh, yes; l remember them very we'll
especially my father. He wasn't a
bit like you, Father Ahram. Oh, l was
only making believe. Come, now.
you've rested long enough. You prom
ised to show me the pool where you
can see the trout playing this after
noon. l never saw Il trout"
Late n afternoon Father Abraham
set out for the old mill alone. He Of
ten went to sit and think Of the old
days when he lived in the cottage
across the road. Time had smoothed
away the sharpness of his grief until
he no longer found the memory of
those times painful. But whenever
Abram Strong sat in the melancholy
September afternoons on the spot
where "Dums" used to run in every
day with her yellow curls flying. the
smile that Lakelands always saw upon
his face was not there.
The miller made his way slowly up
the winding. steep road. The trees
crowded so close to the edge of it that
he walked in their shade, with his hat
in his hand. Squirrels ran playfully
upon the old rail fence at his right.
Quails were calling to their young
broods in the wheat stubble. Early
September. 1t was within a few days
only Of the anniversary Of Aglaia's dis
appearance.
The old overshot wheel, half covered
with mountain ivy, caught patches of
the warm sunlight fltering through
the trees. The cottage across the road
was still standing, but it would doubt
less go down before the next winters
mountain blasts. 1t was overrun with
morning glory and wild gourd vines,
and the door hung by II hinge.
Father Abram pushed open the mill
door and entered softly. And then he
stood still, wondering. He heard the
sound Of some one within, weeping in
consolably. He looked and saw Miss
Chester sitting in a dim pew with her
head bowed upon an open letter.
Father Abram went to her and laid
one of his strong hands firmly upon
hers. She looked up, breathed his
name and tried to speak further.
Not yet, Miss Rose" said the miller
kindly. Don't try to talk yet. There's
nothing as good for you as a nice quiet
little cry when you are feeling blue"
1t seemed that the old miller, who
had known so much sorrow himself,
was a magician in driving it away
from others. Miss Chester's sobs grew
easier. Presently she took her little
plain bordered handkerchief and wiped
away a drop or two that had fallen
from her eyes upon Father Abrams
big hand. Then she looked up and
smiled through her tears. Miss Ches-
ter could always smile before her tears
had dried, Just as Father Abram could
smile through his own grief.
The miller asked her no questions,
but by and by Miss Chester began to
tell him.
1t was the old story that always
seems so big and important to the
young and that brings reminiscent
smiles to their elders. Love was the
theme, as may be supposed. There
was Il young Hdll III Htldllld' u Va
all goodness and the graces, who had
discovered that Miss Chester also pos
sessed these qualities above all other
people in Atlanta or anywhere else
from Greenland to Patagonia. She
showed Father .Abram the letter over
which she had been weeping. 1t was a
manly, tender letter, a little superlative
and urgent, after the style OF love let
ters written by young men full OF good
ness and the graceS. He proposed TOR