Year: 1869

OUT IN THE RAIN.


By GRACE GARDNER.


SPRINKLKi RAIN showerl right dowl
on Millie Warmers tasteful little hat ant
graceful shoulder, unpro' ected eave by
thin shawl, notwithstanding the beseecb
ing glance of the prettiest pair of haze
eyes that ever looked up to Q cloud in tha
way. The memorable, stony hearted thins
Just poured out Its deluging treasure,
without minding them the least bit in ths
world.


Now, Millie wasn't afraid of shower
unless there was thunder and lightning
but she had quite regard for her pretty
hat, which was not two weeks old, ant
did hate dreadfully to have it spoiled. Be
sides. che kncw-vain little girl-that il
was exceedingly becoming. Her glass
told her that, and Squire Johns, the grea,
man of the town, had whispered to hel
just the same, looking at her very admir-
ipgiy all the while. It was too, too bad
she threw over the hat Just about hall
ment, and laughed. As if such deluge
Of handkerchief could do any good, she
said 70 herself: How could she be SO
silly"


Millie, not so very wise yet, tried mex,
to run away from the shower but, in her
haste, ran into several mud puddles, there.
by muddying the pretty little feet in per
fectly scientific manner.


She walked quite leisurely, after that
saying, philosophically:


"As my hat is spoiled already, there caH
be no use in hurrying. lam neither sugar
nor sslr."


Nevertheless, when MilIie came to a
large white farm house, she very gladly
and rather hsstily-for Just then there was
heavy peal Of thunder-opened the gate
and went up the flower bordered path to
the house, and knocked for admittance
Nobody answered, and as another peal OF
thunder was heard, accompanied by a
vivid flash of lightning, Millie entered
without ceremony. She took in at q glance
the contents of the first room she came to
"A large square room, plainly but neatly
furnished--thc Cane seated chairs, the
pretty chintzcovered lounge, book case
filled with books and sheet-music; the vio-
lin in its case in the corner, the vase OF
faded flowers, and the ornaments on the
mantel There was no one there, but she
heard childish voices in the room, and
again knocked. A dark-eyed girl of ten
or eleven years, opened the door.


Mile explained why she was there.
With the ease and good manners of one
much Older, the child bade her welcome.
placed chair near the stove and took
Miles dripping hat and shawl


81 was Just beginning TO get dinner,
that was the reason l didn't hear you
knock. 1t will be long time before the
shower is over, and you mpet stay with
US to dinner. It will be ready by the time
Ben comes; But that will not be for about
half or three quarters of an hour"


"Es. dinnie'n be weddy when Ben
tums," lisped and laughed little girl OF
three years.


The elder child, whose name was Hetty,
resumed:


II can't ge. very good dinner, amt
quite old enough, but Ben says do nicely.
He puts it on for me, and see to 1t. But
he does not allow me TO take off kettles,
for fear l will burn or scald myself; but l
think I am large enough to do that. like
to have everyt thing ready for him when
he comes in tired and hungry. I can't
make biscuit-I wish l could, for Ben
likes them ever 30 much but Martha,
who comes in to make bread for Us, says
she will teach me-"


"Where Is your mother ?" asked Millie
of the little Eva, when Hesty was out of
the room.


ave is got no mudder but Ren," the
little one lsped.


When Hetty came back, Millie said:


"Now have got nicely warmed, and
ny Dress will dry just as well at work IS
sitting still; so l will help you get dinner.
If you like, will make some biscuit, and
we will have dinner ready in q very short
time"


Hetty was delighted. Ben would be
glad. Might she look on aud learn how


Mile was young, and frank, and gay,
and she and the children soon became very
well acquainted over the biscuit. She
said, presently, trying a potato with a
fork,


"The potatoes are DONE 1 will pour
the water off so, then put them on again
to dry. That will make them mesly. In
q few moments we will peel them, and
then dinner will be all ready except taking
it up"


The dinner seemedvery meagre to little
Hetty as she ran over the items in her
mind-potstoes, peas, pork, biscuit, but
ter, cucumbers, milk, water. She had
wanted to make tea for her visitor, but
she declined decidedly. The poor child
said, apologetically


"When father and mother were alive
we used to have q good many things for
dinner, and Martha, our hired girl, used
to get them all, but when they died, and
Squire Johns said he bought mortgage
on cur farm, and that we had got to pay
every cent the day it was due or lose
everything, we had to do without good
many things, and are very poor now, and
Ben is afraid we can't have enough to pay
it, and they all say We may look for no
mercy from Squire Johns, for he is very
hard man to the poor, and he has alwsys
wanted our farm, because it joins some of
his own land where he wants to build. ]
heard all about it when one of the neigh
bors was talking with Ben, though he
didn't want me to know about it."


Millie had listened to this with q curl
ous mixture of feelings, for Squire Johns
was q declared lover of hers, and though
she hsd not yet accepted him, she had
been both pleased and flattered with his
attention, and had certainly given him
epcours cement. Moreover, he was to re-
ceive his final answer in three days from
that time, and she was not sure the answer
reserved and laid away for that time was
"no." True, Millie was not in love with
him, but she had waited so long in vain
for that ecstatic state of feeling she had
heard and read so much about, that she
was quite decided that she was not capa-
BILE Of love, and that to like any one was
as much as she could expect. But she
certainly liked Squire Johns as well if not
better than any one, and his love must
certainly be disiuterested, for he could not
know that -. But now Millie
stopped. Could he not, Might he not
have found out in some wayi If this
story were true, would such a man be
likely to marry q poor girl? For Mile
Warner was really an heiress in small
way. She was sole inheritor of q fine un-
encountered farm from her father, aud
FIVE thousand dollars in bank stock. But
the farm was two hundred miles south of
this town, where she was visiting cousin,
and nobody knew of it; and during her
visit she had helped her cousin IN her
work as she had always helped her moth
er when she was at thome-capahle, indus
trious little girl thst she was.


This story agreed with things that she
had heard hinted at, but only limited at,
and even that the next moment was
smoothed over, for Squire Johns was q
rich and influential man, and people could
not afford, without some reason, TO lose
his favor. She remembered it all now.
Gould he in reality he such n scoundrelf