The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1915-01-28
singular" he mused very singu,

|
with Adrienne Lescott-who. every
one supposed meant to marry Wilfred
Horton. This little party tonight is
to put 1t quite mildly, a bit uncon
yentional,"
The stout gentleman said nothing
and the other questioned, musingly:
by the way, Bradburn, has the
Kenmore Shooting club requested VIII
fred Horizons resignation YETI"
Not yet. We are going to. He's
not congenial, since his hand is raised
against every man who owns more
than two dollars" The speaker owned
several million times that sum. This
meeting at an out-of.the-way place
had been arranged for the purpose
Of discussing ways and means of curb
ing Wilfred's crusades.
We'll, don't do It."
why the devil shouldn't we? We
don't want anarchists In the Ken
more"
After awhile, they sat silent, Farbish
smiling over the plot he had just de-
vised, and the other man pulling with
a puzzled expression at his cigar.
That's all there is to it," summar-
lied Mr.. Farbish, succinctly. IF we
can get these two men, South and
Horton, together down there at the
shooting lodge, under the proper condi'
tions, they'll do the rest themselves, ]
think. I'll take care of South. Now,
it's up to you to have Horton there
at the same time
How do you know these men hare
lot already met-and amlcablyT' de-
manded Mr.. Bradburn.
81 happen to know 1t, quite by
chance. 1t is my business to know
things-quite by chance!"
Indian summer came again to
Misery, Haunting woodland banners OF
crimson and scarlet orange, but to
Sally the season brought only heart
achy remembrances of last autumn,
when Samson had softened his stoi-
cism as the haze had softened the hori-
zon. He had sent her a few brief let
ters-not written, but plainly printed
lie selected short words-as much
like the primer as possible, for no
other messages could she read There
we're times in plenty when he wished
to pour out to her torrents of feeling,
and it was such feeling as would have
carried comfort to her lonely little
heart He wished to tell frankly Of
what a good friend he had made, and
how this friendship made him more
able to realize that other feeling
his love for Sally. There was in his
mind no suspicion-as yet-that these
two girls might ever stand in conflict
as to the rightof.way. But the letters
he wished to write were not the sort
he ,ared to have read to the girl by
the evangelst-doctor or the district
school teacher, and alone she could
nave made nothing of them. However,
II love you" are easy words-and those
he always included.
The Widow Miller had been ailing
for months, and, though the local
physician diagnosed the condition as
being right poreiy," he knew that the
specter of tuberculosis which stalks
through these badly lighted and ven
tilated houses was stretching out its
fingers to touch her shrunken chest.
This had meant that Sally had to fore
go the evening hours to study, be-
cause of the weariness that followed
the day of nursing and household
drudgery. Autumn seemed to bring
to her mother slight improvement,
and Sally could again sometimes
steal away with her slate and book,
to sit alone on the big powder, and
study.
She would not be able to write that
Christmas letter. There had been too
many Interruptions in the self-imparted
education, but some day she would
write. There would probably be
time enough. 1t would take even Sam.
son long while % become an artist.
One day, as she was walking home.
ward from her lonely trysting place,
she met the battered-looking man who
carried medicines in tis saddlebags
and the Scriptures in his pocket, and
who practiced both forms of healing
through the hills. The old man drew
down his nag, and threw one leg over
the pomnel.
"Evenin'. Sally" he greeted
"Evenin', Brother Spencer. How air
ye?"
"Torable, thank ye, Sally" The
body-and.soul mender studied the girl
awhile in silence, and then said blunt.
ly;
we've done broke right smart, in
the last year. Anything the matter
with ye?"
She shook her head, and laughed.
It was an effort to laugh merrily,
but the ghost OF the old distinctive
blitheness rippled into it.
We Jest CoHne lIOlH olu oplCeI
South's," volunteered the doctor.
He's ailin pretty consid'able, these
days"
whats the matter With Onc' Spi-
cer?" demanded the girl, in genuine
anxiety. Every one along Misery
called the old man Unc Spicer.
81 cant jest make out Her in
former spoke slowly, and his brow cor
rugated into something like sLllen-
ness. "He amt jest to say SICK. Thet
is, his organs seems all right, but he
don't pear to have no heart fer nothn',
and his victuals don't tempt MIN none.
Intr arr.I ~ .nI