Year: 1873

| upOu p'tuiiscS VI DtfSOu
whose sheep fold he had just plundered.
Thus II happened that as yet the powers
that we're knew nothing of the moment
Gus secret, which they kept between them
selves, fearing to divulge. And now An
ME, who wished to put Off the ordeal OF
avowal as long as possible-at any rate to
gain time for one more confidential talk
with David on the subject-said hastily In
reply to that stammered query Of his with
which we have prelaced this narration,
| "Mother is going over to Aunt Ruth's
with father to spend the evening, and she
wants me to go too, but guess 1 won't
I've been working on fathers new shirts
all day, besides doing the dairy work yes
terday, and I'm about tired out"


Then she added before he could reply:
"Don't come until 8 o'clock. shall be
about through putting things to rights by
that time."


OF course David was not too obtuse to
understand that he was specially favored
by this arrangement, and he 80 far forgot
his bashfulne,s as to petition awkwardly
for parting kiss, which was at once re-
fused in the most inexorable manner pos
sible.


mo, you shanti There now Do take
yourself off, will you? Dye think 1 did
MT see you fidgeting around EN- Smith at
Deacon Andersons sociable last night
I've not forgotten that, sir ~


"Ob, now, Annie Just one ~


But further appeal was broken off by
tantalizing little laugh, and when, render
ed desperate by this, he tried to revenge
himself, at the very moment when he
| thought he was secure of the coveted bliss
and stopped his head triumphantly over
his struggling prisoner, the rosy, laughing
face vanished suddenly from under his
arm and was off and away up the garden
path leading to the house, almost before he
could realize what had happened.


For one moment David, who stood gaz-
| ing ruefully after her, thought of pursuit
| and recapture. But before he had time
to put his plan into execution, his torment
ress, after stopping to give one mocking
| farewell wave of her hand from the front
porch, vanished inside of the hall door. SO
there was nothing to be done but to turn
| reluctantly from the gate and take the road
| homeward.


IT you could have looked into the family
sitting room at Squire Moore's shortly be-
| fore eight o'clock on that same evening you
would have had a CHEEKY picture before
| you. The after supper clearing away was
| over, for the sitting room was also the room
where the daily meals Of the family were
eaten. The leaves of the old fashioned
/ - L yz.x \
BILE itself. covered with bright oiled cloth
set back against the wall. The crumbs had
been carefully brushed with turkey wing
from the neat home e-made carpet, and An
nie's workstand was drawn up in front OF
the ample and blazing fire of hickory logs
which crackled cheerily in the old fashion,
ell fire place.


A bountifully piled tray of red checked
| apples and plate full of cracked walnuts
were on it, in close proximity to Annes
coquettish work basket made of pine cones
with her own deft little hands, aud dainti-
| ly lined with blue silk.


On one side of the fireplace sat Mrs.
Moore, fat, fair, more than forty, and at
peace with all the world. She sat swaying
|
low rocking chair, knitting as she rocke ed,
and refreshing herself now and then with
a mouthful from half eaten apple which
lay within easy reach, just upon the corner
of the table; or touching in a caressing
manner with the tip of her foot a sleek, Ia
zy looking grey cat that lay purring and
blinking Osi the hearth rug before her.
|
deftly drawing her needle in and out Of a
long piece of white cambric, and with her
head as busy as her hands with trying Ia
contrive some clever way OF incidentally y
mentioning the visit, which she was now
momentarily expecting, to her mother
without exciting the suspicion of its being
a pre-arranged affair. She would have
given good deal to have been able to say
in an off-hand manner that she wouldn't
wonder If Mr.. Winthrop were to drop in,
as he was in the habit of calling occasional
ly on Saturday evening at about this;time
But she recollected with a twinge of con.
science how hard she had tried to persuade
the old lady TO accompany her husband or
the promised visit to Aunt Ruths in spite
of her forewarnings Of a coming spell O
"peurally," which had dintimidated her from
venturing out into the damp night air ant
also how she had plead headache as an ex
cuse for not going herself. She knew thai
her mother was quite sharp enough to draw
her own inferences from these two facts
and the additional one of her being dress
ed with more than usual care to spend ar
evening at home.


az shall not dare TO tell her now" sh,
said to herself. "She'd be sure to thinl
that wanted to get her out of the way, 81
that might have David all to myself" So
like wise little puss, she was silent.


I'll venture my word on it, you would
not have wondered at our bashful younl
farmers desperate enthrallment If yor
could have seen Annie Moore as she sa
sewing by the fire that frosty night in No
vember. She had just before supper in
dulged in what Western girl would cal
"fxing up" A neat fitting dark chint
dress, looking as fresh as when It had irs
came out of the village store, dainty whit,
linen collar and cuffs, and a coquettisl
frlled apron Of white muslin, and blu,
ck-ribbon tied in a cunning bow, were
the chief items of Annie's toilette. Blu
she looked as sweet and pretty as II hour
had been spent In donnlng satin, lace ant
jewels. Her rich, wavy, gold brown hal
was carried in shining folds away from he
warm red cheek, and caught up in tn
meshes OF a silken net al the back.


Eight o'clock and past Worthy Mrs
Moore was doing over her knitting. He
shadow on the opposite wall bobbed abou
in grotesque mimlcry as she nodded h
and fro-uow crushing the voluminou
white satin bows on the spruce cap sgsins
the back OF her chair-now almost falllnl