The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1935-10-03

| the chores"
Nov don't you, WILL" she whis-
pered, comfortingly. Granny says old
folks are like as not to die in the
| spring; and he was old. and tired"
And she said softly: "It's good to
know you'll be here now"
He looked at her in faint surprise.
'Why, I'm going back" he told her.
I've got a good job. while it lasts;
and good pay. low to let the farm
lay idle this summer; come back next
year when this jobs done, with the
money I've saved"
And he saw the shadow in her eyes,
and said: II can do heap better
| there than / can on the farm, Jenny;
make more, and save more, too"
81 guess the farm'll miss you," she
said. not urgently, yet with rueful
note in her voice. Farms need taking
care of, and tending. Granny says a
piece of land will go back to woods
mighty quick, If you let it be-"
81 can bring the farm back, another
year." he said. But looks like ought
to hang onto this job, long as can.
It's dam they're building over there,
and a power plant and ALL"
She made no open effort to dissuade
him. He said, with some laundering
perception of the change in her:
you've growed heap, Jenny"
She shook her head. "No, Will I'm
no bigger than was"
He protested, smilingly: "Sho, young
one. You'll be grown woman, first
thing you know
"Some ways" she confessed, "Pm
woman now" She watched him hope
fully; but he did not speak, and she
asked: you aim to stay any time at
an?"
II low to leave first thing in the
morning" he returned. They were come
to the house. $50 I don't k.-ow's I'll
see you again, before. Nice of you to
come over, Jenny. Pa, he always liked
YOU"
Jenny nodded, not trusting herself
to speak; she turned away.
So the Ferrin place on the slopes
above Carey's brook was deserted all
that summer, and the next winter, too:
and for Jenny, with Will gone, Hostile
Valley became dreary solitude. He
had vanished as completely as though
he were half the world away; yet
Jenny did not forget him, nor was she
likely to. This was not because there
were no others to take his place. The
| girl in these years came swift to wom-
anhood; the change was manifest to
the rudest eye. Uncle Win Haven, re-
| turning on one of his infrequent visits
to the Valley, met her one day when
she went to feed the hens, and chucked
! her under the chin and told her she
was fine wench now, and would have
kissed her, but Jenny turned her head
| aside.
The old man stayed in the neighbor-
hood for a while, lodging with Bart
| Carey; and Amy, Bart's sister, came
to Marin Pierce one night for sanctu-
airy.
They're over there, the both of
them, drunk on Bart's cider" Amy ex-
| planned.
Marin Pierce made her welcome, and
Amy slept on the couch in the dining
room. "But if you had any gizzard in
| you," the old woman told her briskly,
you'd roll the both of them out of
| doors to sleep it off,"
| Amy smiled wistfully. "Bart's all
, right, the most of the time," she said.
"Only thing is, keep out of his way
| when he's drunk a lot Of cider. he
| gifts to be noisy" And she said with
glance at Jenny: swim Haven was
| saying that Jenny here has got to be
grown woman all of a sudden. You
have, too, Jenny. hain't seen you for
| a SPELL"
"Why shouldn't she?" Marin Pierce
demanded. "She's nigh on to twenty.
Time she was growing up, if she's
ever going to-"
But the change in Jenny was in fact
much more than matter of years;
for this is part of the alchemy which
first love may work in woman child.
She had come to wear a rich bloom
apparent to the dullest eye. Marin
Pierce, watching the girl sometimes
when Jenny did not know, thought
that if Will were here, even he must
see the beauty in her now. The girl
was like teeming meadow land, ready
for the pillow. Some time later, when
Bart Carey came over one day on a
manufactured errand, the old woman
was uneasy. She had known this young
man since he was a boy. The Carey
house was in fact the nearest human
habitation, accessible by a faint trail
through the woods. She had known
Bart long, and she was not in the
least persuaded Of his virtues. The
fact that, instead of farming with the
diligence that was hereabouts the rule,
he derived the major portion of his
income from taking fishermen as
boarders, prejudiced her against him.
Thrift and industry were to her mind
cardinal virtues; the neglect of them
was a faint on any man.
Yet Bart could not be blamed for
his courses. His father before him
had been shrewd enough to perceive
the possibilities of profit In the big
trout in Carey's brook; he had even
at one time run small advertisement
in one of the sporting journals, and
neglected his farm to attend the Gus
toners who came to fish. Bart had
always been fisherman. His younger
brother Wilfred preferred farming;
and he had titled and toiled, made a
garden. cut the hay, picked the apples.
When the elder Carey died, he left the
farm to Wilfred, the house to Bart and
Amy. 81
THAT way, Wilfred can run the