Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-02-22
ner tear-stained handkerchief back at

her tear-stained handkerchief back al
him.
1t vas Malcolm who drove the
Waynes with their few traps to the To-
cal railway station. Hazel purposely
acted proud and careful of the neat lit
tie suitcase. She did not kiss Malcolm
In the presence of the crowd at the
depot, but she clasped his hand fer
vently and looked up into his eyes, and
said in a low, intense tone:
EVERY anniversary of this day / win
send you some word"
Thus there sprang up in the soul of
the young man q. beautiful ideal, hall
lowed by the memory of that parting.
In the course of a month they heard
from Mr.. Wayne. He told of occupa-
ton which held cheering promises for
future prosperity. A little later he sent
a draft for one hundred dollars, insist
ing that Mr.. Dinslow must have lost
that much on taking their poor furni-
ture at the price he did.
To the day, at the end of the year
there came a letter to Malcolm. 1t was
filed with the joyous interest of an in
nocent spirit enraptured with the nov
city of new scenes, but breathing a
longing for the old home and It's treas
ured surroundings.
Five years passed away. Always
upon that set anniversary there came
the promised missive from Hazel. She
told of her mother and father both
dying and that her uncle had adopted
her.
Meantime Malcolm Dinslow had
known a like double bereavement. Add
ed to this great grief which made of
him an isolated, lonely man, was the
burden of carrying the little m%ortgaged
farm. His parents had been IMPROVE
dent only in aiding others at the cost
of responsibilities and debt for them
selves. Ten years hard grubbing
would win the place clear, and man.
fully Malcolm buckled down to his
task.
1t was the fifth anniversary of the
day he had parted with Hazel Wayne.
He was rather gloomily returning from
the town, for there had been no letter.
Malcolm carried a basket laden with
home neeessaries. 1t was rather heavy
and he had set it down to rest for a
moment, when one of two ladies' whom
he had just passed without particular
ly noticing them, approached.
Let me share your burden, please,'
uttered a thrilling voice, and Malcolm
Dinslow, petrified, faced Hazel Wayne.
"Why, Hazel-Miss Wayne, l mean I"
he stammered, so overcome that he
barely extended his hand.
"You don't-you mean Hazel,r she
cried, in her old-time open way. "Oh,
Malcolm I am homeless, friendless,
although Uncle Silas dying has left
me rich. l had to come back-I was
homesick for the old town, and you.v
She could note his changing color,
the eager, aroused flicker in his eye,
and was content and glad.
"And you are to come to the hotel
with my maid and l. There is so much
to tell, and I still have the lean cher
ished suitcase, and it Is filed with
money, and it Is all for you, as-I said
five years ago."
"That is nonsense, Hazel" he said.
"You must accept it, at least share
it. If you don't, Malcolm Dinslow, I
will fill in the suitcase with big ugly
rocks and sink it in the creek |"
Malcolm could not refrain a smile,
and Hazel quite laughed, for she had
quoted his own words of five years pre-
vious.
When Malcolm Dinslow left the ho-
tel that night, the stars seemed blink
ing down upon him a rare benson, for
Hazel was to become mistress of the
old homestead the next week.