The Mount Holly news., 1917-11-27
Dashed FurlousIy Away.

to go draggin' after you like a briar.
when you want to free yerself I've
seen the day it would be like a shot
in my heart to be turned off, but I've
been bracin' myself for the lick ever
since you went away. I've got all my
'rangements made, an in a month from
now I'll leave for Kansas, where I've
got an uncle who offers me q place In
his store. So, Eller, eff you say the
word, I'll take my medicine the best
I kin, an never bother you no more"
When he had concluded, Ella looked
up at him, with smile-a frank,
bantering, kissable smile. Affecta-
ton was gone from her manner and
speech.
"Ered." she said, with the genuine
frankness Of mountain natures. 81 still
think more of you than l ever did of
any other man. / deplOre your def
ciencies in the way Of education; but
you are worth a thousand 'doods,' as
you call the town boys. Still, Fred,
I'm sorry to say, you are not my
ideal, and unless l so consider you,
don't think could live happily with
you. don't think / shall ever marry.
I'm too romantic in my nature-too
exacting In the demand for qualities
in my husband that don't exist in
these prOsaic times. My reading has
spoiled me, l know. l live in times
long gone. My lover is yourself, but
taken back a thousand or two thou
sand years. The modern man, of all
degrees, is too commonplace for my
taste. Hundreds of times have
dreamed of you as my lover, but In
every instance you were either a Ro-
man youth. or a knight of the middle
ages, with armor on, going forth to
do deeds for your lady love which the
modern man could not even dream of
doing. OF course, such a man, out
side of books, / shall never find, and
unless my nature changes as the years
go by, shall never marry. Now, Fred,
I've told you truly the state of my
mind, and you will be pleased some
day that you missed getting such a
girl as am for wife. Such love as
/ have, however, belongs to you, but
you know yourself 1t isn't the kind to
keep house on Oh, If we could only
20 back to the grand old Roman DAYS.
Or to the days when knighthood was
in flowerl"
Fred arose at the conclusion of this
novel speech, and dipped his yellow
curls' and said: "Good-by, Eller."
Say, mann, whar's them ole his
tories that ar little bow-legged teach
er left heer two years ago?" said Fred
Canfield to his mother after he had
arrived home.
They're out, piled away in the
smokehouse, somewhar among a lot
OF ole trumpery-what We want with |
nist'ries, I'd like ter know?"
"Never Iffind, man, said the youth
as he went whistling out of the hack
door.
AFTER long search among old .
'hoes, trace chains, dried beans. corn !
eobs and other debris, Fred finally
lshed out Goldsmith's History of
Tome an old English history. With
ome labor he read the Roman his
ory as far as the rape of the Sabines.
nd, with great grin and chuckle of
xultation, he laid 1t aside. Then he
ook up the history Of the Norman
conquest, but dropped it when he read
ow great King William, when a duke
. Normandy, won his exasperating
NE. Then he threw it aside. and.
iunging his hands deep In his pock-
6, strobe to ana fro across the floor.
Us lips struggling to smile and whis-
e ut the same time.
a Iew minutes later he looked out
nd saw Squire Watkins passing on
he highway. He hailed him. The
vo talked at the fence few minutes,
len parted, laughing and slapplng
leir legs.
Man," said Fred, early the next
orning. as he appeared in his "best
IDS" at the door of the smokehouse. /
here his mother was -compounding
me soap grease, II want you to
op yer soap-making terday AN go
cookin' up some good things"
"Why, what's up?"
Never you mind, ole nanny! You
It mind var handsome son, say
thin but yer prayers, an wait"
Fred then strobe rapidly out of
e yard gate, where his big bay horse
'od nervously paving the earth. He
'unted him and went with rain of 4
offs down the hard road toward thA <