Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1913-11-25

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Ruth was running no risks in form
ing a friendship with him. He would
do his old friend the Justice to admit
that. So it happened that he said
nothing to discourage the intimacy
Of the two, and so it came about that
they grew to be the best of friends,
as l have said, in the pleasant au-
tumn days when they talked with
each other across the line fence.
BY and by cold weather set in, and
after that they saw but little OF each
other. But on pleasant days the old
man would take his axe and go up to
the hill-lot to cut the next seasons
supply of wood, and as soon as Ruth
heard the axe ringing out it's blows
against the trees that were to be
felled, she would come up the path
THAT once had been well-worn across
the hill, but which for many years
had been growing up to weeds and
briars. Then the sound Of the axe
would be missed by Mrs. Bently, and
she knew that the two friends were
having one of their good times" to-
gether.
at seems to John almost as if he
had his own little girl back, in
Ruth" she would say to herself, at
such times. How much he must
have missed our Mary, though he
never talked much about her. But
then, that wasn't his way. 1t isn't
always the folks that say most that
love most"
Then came time when little Ruth
did not come to meet her friend at
th" trysting-place on the hill, and
one day some OF the neighbors told
Mrs. Bently that the little girl was
sick. A fever. the doctor said.
Then it was that John Bently be-
gan to make daily trips TO the viii
lage, and on each visit he went to
the doctors Office to ask about the
sick child.
shes a very sick little thing" the
doctor said, day after day. 81 hope
to pull her through, but-I'm afraid
| shall not be able to do it,
One night Robert Harris was
watching by the bed of the sick child.
1t was warm outside, as if an Octo-
Der night had come back to earth for
a little time. AS he sat there in the
silence Of the room in which death
and life were fighting for mastery, he
| fancied he heard the sound of foot
steps at the door.
But no one knocked.
BY a'.d by he got up, and went to
the door and looked out No one
was to be seen, but a package lay
upon the door-stone. He took it up,
and as he did so the paper wrappings
fell apart and the spicy sweetness of
chrysanthemums came floating up to
him.
For some time he stood on the
threshold, thinking. Strange thoughts
were at work in his brain.
John Bently has been here, for
the first time in twenty-five years."
he said to himself, and there was a
tremble in his voice. He has
brought these flowers to little Ruth.
because, like me, he loves her"
When the sick child woke from the
fevercd dream that was hers that
night, she saw the white flowers smil-
ing at her, and she cried out, 80,
Uncle Johns been here! Why didn't
you tell me? | know he's been here,
for he brought me a flower just like
these one day, on the hill-the first
one there was, he said
Up to this time the sick girl had
said but little about her new friend,
but his gift Of flowers seemed to turn
| her thoughts into a new channel, and
she talked about him almost con-
stantly, after that, both in her con-
scious moments and in the hours Of
delirum.
"Uncle john want Uncle John!"
she would cry out in pitifully ap-
pealing way. 20, why doesn't he
come? He would come, know, if he
knew | wanted to see him. He likes
me because | make him think Of his
own little girl. She's deaC, you
know. He told me all about her. Her
name was Mary, and he was so lone
some after she died that he cried
when he told me about her. O, Un-
Gle John, Uncle John! | want Uncle
john"
She insisted on having the flowers
placed where she could see them all
the time, and one white blossom was