The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1915-10-31

| It happened one lovely morning in lat
| October, when the great trees wer'
ablaze with the gorgeous colors of th'
autumn. and the earth beneath them wa
carpeted with a rug of hues more bril-
liant than any weaver ever put together
| Mr.. Fairchild and John were at work a
| corn-husking in the clearing, Jack haC
shouldered a bag and was of for tn:
| woods to gather the hickory nuts which
a slight frost had loosened from theil
outer Covering. and Jerry and her moth
er were busy with the Saturday baking
and putting the comfortable log cabir
into apple-pie order after the pionee,
weekend fashion.
There" exclaimed the good woman
sinking into chair and wiping her heat
ed face with a corner of her four-be-
sprinkled apron. Il guess I've got
enough bread and cake and pie on hand
to keep the Fairchild family from starv-
ing until Monday morning"
IF your pumpkin pies were not so good
mother, they would probably last long
err" said Jerry, who was a shtewd young
person who liked pie quite as well as any
other member of her family.
Well, maybe So" laughed her moth
err Anyhow, I don't know as I'd like
TO make such poor ones that they'd last
till they moulded, like your Aunt Geral-
dine used to. I wonder If she's ever
learned to make them so that they're
fit 10 eat. My. Wouldn't just like to
be back in Bethel for a little while to
see if Sister Geraldine has ever learned
to cook
My! I'd like it too declared Jerry
alphabetically.
Well said her mother philosophical
ly, Il amt likely to get my wish just
yet a SPELL and SO I'll have to be con-
tented with the next best thing"
What is it," asked the little girl. with
considerable interest.
"A drink of cold water from the
shady corner of the spring" Mrs. Fair
child replied. rising suddenly and making
a dart across the roomy kitchen to res
cue a pan of raised biscuits which had
lost its balance on the edge of the oven
shelf.
II guess you are pretty sure of get
ting that next best thing mother. -
laughed Jerry, going to the pantry and
taking down from a shelf a curious-look-
ing pail made from a big gourd. with a
piece of rope for a handle.
We'll, I only hope 1 shan't choke be-
fore I get it, said her mother, good ma
turedly.
Without stopping to reply, Jerry set
out for the spring. singing merrily as
she hippity-hopped down the path into
the deep woods beyond the little clearing
and swinging the gourd bucket FORWARD
and back over her shoulders. The spring
was a little more than an eighth of q
mile from the cabin. in such a silent and
secluded spot in the deep woods that 1t
seemed almost out of the world. The
water trickled slowly through a crevice
in the rock into a basin which Mr.. Fair
child and some Of his neighbors had hol-
lowed out in the soapstone. The water
was deliciously cool and clear, and al
ways looked especially tempting in its
blue-gray receptacle.
Jerry stopped and filled her pail. with
out even stopping to take a view of her
reflection in the clear water mirror. as
was her usual custom. With the memory
Of how heated and weary her mother
looked to prompt her. she began her re-
turn trip with as much speed as the safe
ty Of her well-filled gourd would permit.
The very first time she raised her eyes
from the gay-colored bed of fallen leaves
through which she was making her way
homeward she saw something that caus-
ed her to stop so suddenly that the
gourd-bucket dropped fromN her hand,
splitting every drop of its sparkling con-
tents into the foliage-strewn path.
Standing directly in front of her in the
path, his head erect, his body rigid and
his eyes looking defiance, stood-not a
bear, a panther or a wildcat-the largest
deer Jerry had ever seen, and she had
seen a great many. for they were very
plentiful in the neighborhood, and at one
time the little girl had made a pet of a
little fawn which her father had found
In the woods.
Jerry was startled and surprised. but
not exactly frightened 1t did not occur
to her at the moment that she stood in |