The Leavenworth echo. [volume] (Leavenworth, Wash.) 1904-current, 1916-06-02
DAFFY
DANIEL
By cLARIsSA MAcKIE

Abner, her husband, had also heard
the creak of wagon wheels.
who be it, MarthyT' he asked.
Nobody but Daffy Daniel" she re-
piled, resuming her mending.
'Humph!' muttered Abner. wish
he'd sell me that south lot"
HE ought to be made to-" agreed
his wife. ANY one as simple as Daffy
ought to have a guardeen. l should
think you'd speak to the selectmen
about it, Abner."
1--WE a mind to-" grumbled Abner.
"The lot don't do him any good"
argued Mrs. Tweedy. I've said for a
hong time that Daffy amt got common
sense"
Miss Blake, the new schoolteacher,
who boarded at the Tweedys', looked
up from her book.
"Why do they call him that2 she
asked.
Call who whatT demanded Mrs
Tweedy. startled by the sudden ques-
ton.
'Daffy Daniel"
'OQ! Because ne Is QdHy.
'Tn what way especiallyr' insisted
Frances Blake. She was a small, clear
eyed woman, intrepid of speech and
action. "Is he 1nsaneT'
LAND, nor protested Mrs. Tweedy.
Daniel amt really crazy, but he's
simple minded. Folks have called him
'Daffy Daniel ever since the fire at
the Ford place. Daniel was only sew
enteen, and his pa and ma and his sis
ter was burned to death. Daniel had
been spending the night with his cous-
In at Overlook. In the night he saw
the flames and came running five miles.
And when he reached home 1t was too
late. There want any home or any
folks left.
"He was sick for weeks afterward
and since then he's always been queer.
Some say he blames himself because
he wasn't home that night. He said,
If I'd been there l might have saved
them"
poor fellow" murmured Miss Blake,
"And where does he live now"
Built himself q cottage on the old
cellar He loves the farm like leech,
won't part with an inch Of land, tho
Abner d like that south lot 1t Joins
our prop'ty, you know"
"And so he is queer" went on Fran
ces Blake. SIS he marriedT
Claw, no! Wouldn't look at girl
Awful queer!"
as he disagreeableT'
"No-o-o, not exactly" admitted Mrs.
Tweedy. Hes very short In his man.
ner, don't stop to talk with neighbors
and reads most all the time. He's
queer He's downright daffy, Miss
Blake. 1t all happened twenty years
ago"
Miss Blake made no comment. She
returned to her book. but for nearly an
hour she did not turn leaf.
Presently Mrs. Tweedy arose to pre-
pare the evening meal Abner got up
and lighted the big reading lamp.
But Frances Blake had lost interest
In her book She got up and went
bareheaded into the April sunset
The garden was fragrant with the
smell of growing things. The odor OF
earth was pleasant
From the woods at the north came a
vagrant breeze. 1t bore a Whit of
sassafras and violets and new leaves
and springing grass.
"Oh! cried Frances Blake, throwing
her arms to the rosy clouds. II must
breathe this before it goes away"
So she wandered down the back path,
through the orchard where robins were
calling in low thrilling tones, where
insects chirruped in the grasses.
Out of the orchard she wandered into
the rolling pastures. Once or twice she
crossed a fence.
She heard the distant olamor Of the
Tweedys' supper bell and scorned It
1t was a magic world, bathed In
rosy light. Bird songs, flower life and
smell of springtime Frances closed
her eyes and leaned against the fence.
Are you sickT asked mans quiet
voice.
Frances looked up, startled. She saw
a tall. broad shouldered man In rough
gray suit. His clearly cut features
were bronzed with sun and weather.
There was boyish look about him In
spite of his gravity. He had good
brown eyes and white, even teeth
Thank you, am quite WELL" said
Frances. 81 was only enjoying the
evening. II is so beautiful"
You like 1t too?" he asked eagerly.
81 love 1t, but l don't dare mention
those things. My neighbors believe
one should take the beauties of nature
as a matter of course"
Like daily bread, and water, and
turnips. l suppose" laughed Frances.
He nodded -....-.-...........-
But one is supposed to enjoy bread
and turnips and be thankful for them.
God made sunshine and flowers and
birds, and why not be grateful for
those tool"
81 am" said Miss Blake quietly.
"And so should you"
81 am doubly so, since l have dis
covered another one who thinks as
do Listen"
From the orchard came the throb-
bling, haunting song Of the first whip
poorwill.
81 am Frances Blake. the new school