Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1916-01-07
CHAPTER VIII.
A Newcomer Amonq the Pines.

A Newcomer Among the Pines.
One day soon after the men returned
with word of the raft's safe delivery
into the hands of Captain Graftz, San
dry, working over his books in the lit
tie office, heard a strange voice with
out.
"Oh, no." it was saying in fresh,
sweet accepts-and the very tone said
East-'YOu need not wait. I'm going
to stay. If this is the office, or head
quarters of this place, I'll find whoever
is in charge. Just put my trunk on
that pile of timber. Be careful! Oh,
do be careful! That case contains my
typewriter, and it's more precious than
gold! There-that's right. Now,
what do | 1--WE your"
There was an answer and the clink
of money, and Sandry rose just as the
office door opened. 1t was the East
that confronted him, Fifth avenue it.
self, the whole inimitable metropolis
refined into one woman.
Il must beg a thousand pardons,"
she said, her clear blue eyes raised to
his face, and a lot of indulgence. |
want to be taken in. Do you think any
n in this delightful place will do
it?"
THE whole camp will fight for the
privilege promised Sandry rashly,
falling in instantly with her bantering
tone and responding to the frankness
of her smile. He watched her sit down
gracefully in the chair that he hurried
ly pulled forward. With the first
glimpse of her the old nostalgia had
returned upon him and his heart clam
ored for home.
You are from New York" he said
simply.
Yes. And ! suppose | must explain
at once. You westerners are so insist
ent on reasons My name is Poppy
~Ordway-and | am of that unfortunate
and much criticized species, the WON
an with a life work"
The smile she turned upon him was
electric, full of that heady quality
which is distinctive of the vital wom-
an, the woman of strong and excitable
passions; it appealed to Sandry in
stantly, so that a thrill of gladness ran
through him to his very finger tips.
Il have written a few short stories
which have been we'll received in the
eastern magazines, but they fail to sat
isfy me, | have my first novel drafted,
and it is over there on your lumber
pile along with my precious type,
writer. 1t is a tale of the lumber re-
giOn-and I've come out to work on
the ground. Do you think | can find
s~anctuary?"
We'll see that you do" said San
dry pleasantly, and you couldn't have
struck a better spot for local color any
where in the Northwest. We are ele-
mental here, right down to the primi-
tive, and we are swamped with at
mosphere.' You just come along to
Ma Daily" he promised, already using
the tone of hail-fellow which their
common nativity and her frank man
ner had established between them.
Hungrily he watched her gather up
her skirts and precede him up the lit.
tie path to the cook-shack, where Ma
Daily was already standing in the door
to take inventory. Every little move
ment was sc familiar, so potent in its
suggestion of home.
Chatting lightly, the stranger step
ped up on the porch and smiled at the
white-haired old woman.
Ma Daily" said Sandry-he had
long since lost the sense of resentment
at the family atmosphere of the camp
this is Miss Ordway Of New York
a famous author-and she has come
West to write a new book. Luckily
she struck us in her search for local
color. Can we take her in?"
Ma Daily looked at the visitor sharp
ly and Sandry saw a scarce perceptible
change pass over her CHEEKY features
The vital blue eyes of the younger
gave back the scrutiny with
perfect Openness.
please do, Mrs. Daily" she said in
her sweet voice. please, please do