Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 149, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1910 — A Gardener’s Love Story [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Gardener’s Love Story

People called Dave Vajen a truck farmer, but his widowed cousin and hei 18-year-old daughter, Fanny, who bad livsd with him since the girl was a baby, called him a market gardener. Some day he and Fanny were to be married; indeed, as he jogged along in his wagon with his man, Ed, on the •eat beside him and a number of brown paper parcels at his feet, a broad smile fixed itself almost permanently on the big balloon face as he reflected that Fanny was to set the day this day. Fanny and her mother were talking Of the same future event in the kitchen of the little farmhouse, where they were keeping breakfast warm for Dave and Ed, on their return from the city. “I shouldn't think you'd forget Dave hadn't turned 21 when he took me with a helpless young one here to live with him. The education he has given you. I'll never forget his face when he heard you play your first piece on the piano. He'll make a rare husband, not too young, and a little too fat, but. gracious, the fat never grew round his heart.” Fanny nodded assent. Dave was good, and were twenty years' seniority and too much avoirdupois to be “weighed against that qualiyf ’ The woman heard the horses drive Into the yard; heard Dave’s loud voice ahout "Whoa!” heard him tell Ed to net the packages on the porch, waterthe horses and come in to breakfast. In a minute he entered the room and tv another minute he was sitting at the table in front of half a dozen fried iggs and steaming coffee. Ed was slow In following and Mrs. Madden sent Fanny out to him with a cup. The girl seemed loath to go. Am soon as she was gone Dave got

up heavily. He was much too fat for masculine grace and mysteriously brought in his bundles from the porch. “Know what day this is, don't you, mother? Well, I bought a dress for Fan and I bought one for you, too. The woman was opening them with exclamations of delight. “Both of ’em real silk. I declare, Dave, it’s too much. I was telling Fan she ought to mary you just out of gratitude.” Dave’s face fell. “I don’t want Fan to marry me out of gratitude. I want her to feel right.” “Oh, she does,” said the girl’s mother. “Kinda likes to talk Ao Ed, don’t she?” “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Madden. When Fanny came back from the yard her mother threw the shimmering silk over her shoulder, and saying that she hadn’t tended to her milk pans yet, left the pair together. “Know what day this is. Fan? A year ago we said wte’d fix up something come your next birthday. That’s now. You've been thinking of me. Fan, that husband way? And you’re happy?” “Oh, yes,” She answered, “If It will make you and mother happy.” "Humph!” said the market gardener,

thoughtfully. “Mother, eh? You’re sure you ain’t been thinking of some one else?” “Sure,” she replied. “I’ve got something to tell you, Fan.” said he, turnlhg aside, “and it’s awful hard to tell., ’Twould kind a help me if you’d own you’d thought Just a little of some one else.” The girl went up to him. There was a new took, an eager look, in her eyes: “Have, what is ltr she cried. “What have you to tell?"

The big man stood silent. “I know” —she broke out—“you’ve been thinking a little about some one else yourself.” Dave nodded sheepishly. That s It!” cried Fanny, joyously; >ou like another girl and want to marry her. But you were going right' on to marry me, just because we'd always said we’d get married. Oh, Dave, would It* be right?” “Yes, it would,’’.protested Dave, “if you felt the way you did when you was a little kid.”' “But I don’t,” protested Fanny. “You want to marry some one else?" The girl nodded. "Ah!” said Dave, “that’s how it is you’ve changed, too.” “Yes, yes, yes; and I felt so bad. I thought that you’d gone on—and I couldn’t tell you the truth. Now it’s ‘all right. We’ll always be brother and sister and we’ll both be happy.” “I don’t know,” said Dave. “Who 13 it, Fan? Is it Ed?” Fanny nodded “Yes.” “Ed’s a good boy—smart, too,” said Dave.’ “I’ll have to explain to mother, I s’pose.” “Will you, Dave?” said Fanny, “and do it right away? You can tell her who she is.” The market gardener stared. “Who is?” The girl you're going to marry, silly.” “Oh,” said simple Dave, “I’d forgot about her. Anyhow, I don’t know as she’d say yes. I- ain’t spoke to her yet.” “Of course she’ll say yes,” declared Fanny; “any woman would that you asked to marry you. Isn’t it fine? We’re both going to be happy. I feel like singing and dancing. Don’t you?” Dave looked down at his cumbrous figure and smiled a singular smile. He didn’t have to answer the question, for Fanny heard her mother’s step in the pantry. “There’s mother. I’m going upstairs so you can speak to her now. Will you, Dave?” He smiled at her eagerness and said of course he would. The girl ran up to him murmuring: “Don’t you be sorry you told me, Dave. I’m glad you did. It would have been awful to have gone on, wouldn’t it?” He bowed his head, and she darted toward the stairs just as her mother was entering. Dave snatched the roll of silk from the table and held it out toward her. Sai<j he: “Here, take this along.” The girl shook her head. “Why, no. Dove, you ought to give that to the girl you love and want to marry.” He forced it into her arms. “You take it along,” said Dave. "I’ve brought silk enough for two dresses.” —New Orleans Tlmes-Democrat. There is one time, at least, when stinginess is admired; the stinginess of the girl on the program who refuses to respond to enoores.

“BOTH OF ’EM REAL SILK.”