The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1916-12-12
old NICK'S LEGACY
BY MABEL S. MERRILL.


gre~at-nephew, Nicholas Wye, nothing
but the shop in the orchard and the
contents of the same"
Nicholas Wye, better known as Old
Nick, though he was neither old o
malicious, sat on the orchard wall and
looked thoughtfully at the little wealth
er-blackened building which IA his
sole share in the goodly estates be-
longing to the Wye homestead on the
hill. Then he looked down at the
newspaper in his hand with it's black
headline. The editor of the Bowen
vile Herald had thought old man
Wye's will such a humorous document
that he had made a front-page story
about Old Nick and his legacy.
Nick crumpled the paper and tried
to cram it into his pocket as a light
step came down the road. He knew it
was F1oris Hanson coming home from
her labors at the little old schoOlhouse
down the late. Somehow Nick always
happened to be ABOUND 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.
Its a shame, Mr.. Wye" she de-
clared. 'That editor ought to be pros
ecuted and so had your uncle-oh, no,
/ forgot he is dead. Well, anyway, /
-we-all know you're not a blot and
a total failure"
well, you see, that was Uncle Zeb's
way o. looking at it," explained Nick
good-naturedly. "AIl the Wye's had
worked like time and saved every cent
till | came along. I've had to hunt and
fish and loaf enough to make up for
all they missed"
When F1oris had gone on her way
he got off the wall and gravely in
spected the shop, the only piece o.
property he had ever owned. 1t wa
a rough, solid little building, its tive
rooms well lighted by big windows
for Uncle Zeb had used it for a pain
shop. 1t was empty save for a heal
of rubbish in one corner.
Now, if he'd left me a little some
thing to begin the world on, how'd he
know but I'd reform2' unused Mich
olas, pulling over the heap. Hello,
what's this?"
1t weS a substantial keg of white
paint, with a smaller one of green
resting atop of it. Old Nick was a
humorist in his way, and his eyes be-
gan to twinkle as he examined this
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 a wom-
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 a 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 a little piazza and
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 a shop no longer.
Through the clean front window Curl
u passers-by could see a papered wall
~blossoming with ~half-opened rosebuds
in a 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, FlCris en-
tered into them with such enthusiasm
that the very next morning the aston
ished town spied a green and white
board hanging outside the little new
shop over by the wall. 1t bore the le-
gend:
NICHOLAS WYE, SIGN PAINTING
AND OTHER FINE WORK.
And in the shop the artist had speci-
mems of his skill to show to inquirers.
The result was a 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'n be work
enough. and I've always been looking
for some job that wasn't too steady to
let me go fishing more or less"
"TH 90 with you" vowed Floris with
q long breath. "Only think, Nick, OF
sun and air and freedom after hve
years of that stuffy s~choolhouse. | like
liberty and a trout brook as well as