The Wahpeton times., 1916-11-23


step came down the road. He knew 1t
was Floris Hanson coming home from
her labors at the little old schoolhouse
down the late. Somehow Nick always
happened to be around somewhere
when Floris came along, although he
seldom ventured to speak to her.
To Nick's surprise, Floris stopped
today and spoke to him. She had a
copy of the Herald in her hand and
her eyes were sparkling Indignantly.
"It's shame, Mr.. Wye" she de-
clared. 'That editor ought to be pros
ecuted and so had your uncle-oh, no.
I forgot he is dead. Well, anyway, I
-we-all know you're not blot and
total failure"
swell, you see, that was Uncle Zebs
way O. looking at it." explained Nick
good-naturedly. "All the Wye's had
worked like time and saved every cent
till I came along. I've had to hunt and
fish and loaf enough to make up for
all they missed"
When Floris had gone on her way,
he got of the wall and gravely in
spected the shop, the only piece Of
property he had ever owned. It was
a rough, solid little building, its two
rooms we'll lighted by big windows,
for Uncle Zeb had used it for paint
shop. 1t was empty save for heap
Of rubbish in one corner.
"Now, If he'd left me little some
thing to begin the world on, how'd he
know but I'd reform?" mused Mich
olas, pulling over the heap. "Hello,
what's this?"
It was a substantial keg Of white
paint, with smaller one of green
resting atop of it. Old Nick was
humorist in his way, and his eyes be-
find.
The next afternoon when Floris
passed she stared in amazement. In
this shady orchard corner, the little
building, painted clean white with a
small stripe Of dark green for a finish,
looked like the fairy house she had
sometimes seen in her dreams when
her boarding place in the village was
worse than usual. Nick was inside
painting the woodwork. With won.
ans interest in beauty and cleanli.
ness, Floris stepped along to the door
and looked in.
"Oh, Mr.. Nicholas" she exclaimed,
you're making it just lovely! Don't
have thing, will you, but the clean
white and green? Why you are an
artist, and you've never let us find it
Out!"
1t was not long before the fairy
house in the orchard attracted the at
tention of others beside the school
mistress. He built little piazza anG
a tiny paint shop out by the wall in
which to keep his pals and brushes
and other litter. For it was plain now
that the old shop was shop no longer.
Through the clean front window curl
ous passers-by could see papered wall
blossOming with half-opened rosebuds
in mist of green leaves.
Every afternoon Nick was waiting to
ask the advice of the school mistress
about this or that. One day he took
her into his confidence about his plans
for the future-for it developed that
Old Nick had plans for the future at
last. Whatever they were, Floris en-
tered into them with such enthusiasm
that the very next morning the aston
tshed town spied a green and white
board hanging outside the little new
shop over by the wall. It bore the le-
gend:
NICHOLAS WYE, SIGN PAINTING
AND CTEER FINE WORK.
And in the shop the artist had speci-
mems of his skill to show to inquirers.
The result was rush Of custom which
promised to last.
made seven dollars today" Old
Nick Informed Floris one afternoon
when she looked in at the cottage"
on her way home. "There'll be work
enough, and I've always been looking
for some job that wasn't too steady TO
let me 60 fishing more or less"
"1'l 60 with you," vowed Floris with
q long breath. "Only think, Nick, of
sun and air and freedom after five
years of that stuffy schoolhouse. like
liberty and a trout brook Us well as
you do. And housekeeping in two
rooms isn't going to hinder much"
'"Then you amt repented YETI" asked
Nicholas. II laid awake half the night
wondering IL I'd dreamed it-that you
said yes when asked you If you'd
marry Old Nick. expected you'd get
thinking how the neighbors would look
ut it"
II don't care now anybody looks ut
II" averred the little teacher serenely,
except ourselves. And Of course I
said yes. Do you suppose I was going
to let any other woman glide around
on those lovely green foors1"
Copyright, 1o1s. BY the Mcclure Mem.
paper eyndicate.)