The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1919-10-03
CHAPTER vi.

N- ...
The appearance Of Miss Lucy Nor
gan the next day, as she sat IL
Georges fast cutter, proved so charm
ing that her escort was stricken to
soft words instantly and failed to con
troll a poetic impulse. "You look
like" he said. "Your face looks
like-it looks like snowflake on
lump of coal. mean "a snowflake
that would be a rose-leaf tool"
Perhaps you'd better look at the
reins," she returned. "We almost up
set just then"
George declined to heed this advice
Because there's too much pink In
your cheeks for snowflake" he con-
tinued. whats that fairy story about
suow-white and rose-red-"
"We're going pretty fast, Mr.. Nina
ferl'
"Well, You see, I'm only here for
two weeks"
81 mean the sleigh" she explained.
''We're not the only people on the
street, you know"
"Oh, they'll keep out of the way"
That's very patrician charioteeer,
ing, but 1t seems to me horse like
this needs guidance. I'm sure he's
going almost twenty miles an hour"
That's nothing" said George; but
hs- consented to look forward again
HE can trot under three minutes, all
right" He laughed. 81 suppose your
father thinks he can build hOrseless
carriage to go that fast"
''They go that fast already, some
times"
EYES," said George; "they do-for
about a hundred feet! Then they give
a yell and burn up"
Evidently she decided not to defend
her fathers faith in horseless car
riages, for she laughed and said moth
Ing. The cold air was polka-dotted
with snOwflakes, and trembled to the
loud, continuous jingling of sleigh
bells. Boys and girls, all aglow and
painting jets of vapor, darted at the
passing sleighs to ride on the runners,
or sought to rope their sleds to any
vehicle whatever, but the fieetest no
more than just touched the flying cut
ter, though a hundred soggy mittens
grasped for it, then reeled and whirled
till sometimes the wearers of those
daring mittens plunged fiat in the
snow and lay a-sprawl, rejecting.
But there came painting and chug-
sing up that fiat thoroughfare thing
which some day was to spoil all their
sleightime merriment-save for the
rashest and most disobedient. 1t was
vaguely like topless surrey, but cum
brOuS with unwholesome excreScences
fore and aft, while underneath were
spinning leather belts and something
that whirred and howled and seemed
TO stagger. The ride-stealers made no
attempt to fasten their sleds to a con-
triyance SO nOnsensical and yet sc
fearsome. Instead they gave over their
sport and concentrated all their ener-
gies i'm their lungs, so that up and
down the street the one cry shrilled
increasingly: "Git boss! Git boss
Git boss! Mister, why don't you git
a boss" But the mahout in charge
sitting solitary on the front seat, was
unconcerned-he laughed, and now
and then ducked a SNOWFALL without
losing any Of his good-nature. 1t was
Mr.. Eugene Morgan who exhibited SO
cheerful a countenance between the
forward visor Of q deer-Stalker cap
and the collar of fuzzy gray ulster
"Git a hossw the children shrieked
and gruffer voices Joined them. "Git
Il boss! Git boss! Git boss !"
George Minafer was correct thus
far; the twelve miles an hour Of such
machine would never oyertake
Georges trotter. The cutter was al
ready scurrying between the stone pill
lars at the entrance to Anderson ad.
dition.
That's my grandfather's," said
George, nodding toward the Anderson
mansion.
Il ought to know that I" Lucy ex
claimed. 1--WE stayed there late enough
last night: papa and 1 were almost
the last to go. He and your mother
and Miss Fanny Minafer got the mu
sicians to play another waltz wher
everybody else had gone downstairs
and the fiddles were being put away
in their cases. Papa danced part OF
it with Miss Minafer and the rest with
Your mother. Miss Minafer's your
aunt, isn't she?"
Yes; she lives with us. That's oul
house just beyond grandfather's," He
waved q sealskin gauntlet to indicate
the house Major Anderson had built
for Isabel as wedding gift. He
frowned as they passed closed car.
riage and pair. The body Of this com
Portable vehicle sagged slightly to one
side; the paint was old and scanned
with hundreds of minute cracks like
little rivers on black map; the
coachnian, fat and elderly darby
seemed to browse upon the box; but
the open window afforded the occu
pants of the cutter a glimpse of O
tired, fine old face. silk hat, a pear
tie and an astrachan collar, evidently
out to take the air.