Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 31, Number 271, 28 October 1906 — Page 9

Page Nine IF H$y Ervm JBachelleir Continued iProm ILa,st Sunday.

The Richmond Palladium. Sunday, October 28, 1906.

"Our tea is reaay," saia sue present

ly, advancing to the table. She spoke In a low, gentle tone. "This is grand !" said he, sitting down with them. "I tell "yon we'll have fun before I leave here. They looked np at him and then at each other, Letitia laughing silently, S'mantha suspicious. For many years fun had been, a thing far from their thought. t "Play checkers?" he Inquired. "Afraid we couldn't." said Miss Letitia, answering for both. c"01d Sledge?" She shook her head, smiling. "1 don't wish to lead you Into recklessness," the teacher remarked, "but I'm sure you wouldn't mind being happy." Miss S'mantha had a startled look. "In in a proper way," he added. "Let's be Joyful. , Perhaps we could 'play 'I spy.' " I "Y!" the? both exclaimed, laughing isilentlv. i t "Never ate chicken pie like that," he added In all sincerity. "If I were c poet I'd Indite an ode 'written after eating some of the excellent chicken pie of the Misses Tower.' I'm going to tiave some like It on my farm." In reaching to help himself he touoh!ed the teapot, withdrawing his hand julckly. i : "Burn ye?" said Miss S'mantha. "To, but I like it" said he. a hit em barrassed. "I often go and put iand on a hot teapot If I'm naving too nuch fun." ' They looked np at him, puzzled. "Ever slide down hill?" he inquired, looking from one to the other after a it of silence. "Oh, not since we were little," said Miss Letitia. holding her biscuit dainily after taking a bite none too big for L bird to manage. v "Good fun." said he. "Whisk you ack to childhood in a jiffy. Folks ught to slide down hill more'n they So. It isn't a good idea to be always limbing." "'Fraid we couldn't stan it." said IIss S'mantha tentatively. Under all er man fear and suspicion lay a furIve recklessness. "Y, no!" the other whispered, laugbhg silently. The pervading silence of. that house ame flooding In between sentences. for a moment Trove could hear only he gurgle of pouring tea and the faint attle of china softly handled. When e felt as if the silence wese drownbg him ho began again: '- Life Is nothing but a school. I'm a bacher, and I deal In rules.- If you ant to kill misery load your gun kith pleasure." - i ., "Do you know of anything for inJigestion?" said Miss S'mantha, chargtg her sickly voice with a firmness . . . j i iiicuiait'u . iu uiscuuragu auy uuuue ;imillarily. Just the thing a , sure . cure I" said e emphatically. . Come high?" she inquired. "No; it's cheap and plenty." "Where do you send ?" Ob," said he, "you will have to go rter it!" "What Is It called?" Fun." said the jteacber quickly, "and ke place to fin it Is out of doors. It ows everywhere -on tuy farm. I'd kther have a pair of skates than all e medicine this side of China." She set down her teacup and looked b at him. She was beginning to think m a fairly safe and well behaved an,, although she would hare been ore comfortable If he had been shut a cage. "If I had a pair o skates," said she Intly, with a look of inquiry at her kter, "I dunno but I'd try 'em." jMLss Letitia began to laugh silently. I'd begin ;with overshoes," said the iacher. "A pair of overshoes and a blk on the crust every morning he re breakfast; increase the dose gradlily." The two old maids were, now more ease with their guest. His kindly pinner and plentiful good spirits had gun to warm and cheer them. Miss lmantha even cherished a secret re ive to slide If the chance came. After tea Sidney Trove, against their otest, began to help with the dishes, iss S'mantha prudently managed to ep the stove between him and her. fire and candles were burning in the rlor. He asked permission, however, stay where he could talk with them. Link Hosely, the man of all work. me In for his supper. He was an odd aracter. Some, with a finger on their reheads, confided the opinion that he pa "a little off." All agreed he was fool, in a tone that left It open to gument. He had a small figure and big squint, nis perpetual squint and istly, short beard were a great Injus;e to him. They gave him a look sefney Trure began to help with the her than he deserved. A limp and nlng shoulder complete the inven!y?of external traits. Having eaten, set a candle in the old barn lantern, of Waal, mister," said he when ail was dy, come out an look at my hoss. he teacher went with him ont tinder I Iky bright with stars to the chill and ; L)mT stable. i

kxic at me,', sa , Tunic Jwldinj: upface. however. He could bear stealthy.

-uosn all fishhooks, I'm a wreck: "What's the matter?" Sidney Trove inquired. "All sunk in right here," Tunk answered Impressively, his hand to his chest. "How did it happen?" "Kicked by a hoss; that's how It happened," was thr significant' answer. "Lord! I'm all shucked over to one side. Can't ye see It?" "A list to sta'b'rd; that's what they call it, I believe," said the teacher. "See how I limp," Tunk went on. striding to show his pace. "Ain't it awful 7' "How did that happen?" ; "Sprung my ex," he answered, turning quickly, with a significant look; "thrown from a sulky in a hoss race an sprung my ex. Lord! Can't ye see it?" , The teacher nodded, not knowing quite bow to take him. "Had my knee nnsot, too," he went an. lifting bis knee as be turned the light upon It. . "Jes put yer finger i there." said he. Indicating a slight protuberance. "Lord, it's big as a beg spavin!" ' He bad planned to provoke a query, and it came. "How did you get it?" "Kicked agin," said Tunk sadly. "Heavens, I've bad my share o' bangin'! Can't conquer a skittish ' hoss without sufferin some not allwus. Noc, here's a hoss," he added as they walked to a stall. "He ain't much t look at, but" He paused a moment as he neared the horse a white and ancient palfrey. He stood thoughtfully on "cocked ankles," every leg in a bandage, tail and mane braided. . "Get ap. Prince," Tunk shouted as he gave him a slap. Prince moved aside, betraying evidence of j age and Infirmity. 1 "But" Tunk repeated, with emphasis. , ' ; r v "Ugly?" the teacher .queried. ' "Ugly!" said Tunk, as' if the word were ail too feeble for jhe fact in hand. "That's what he is! Lu6fcVut! Don't get too nigh him! lie ain't no conscience, that hoss ain't." J'ls he fast?" - ;-f "Greased lightnin'!" said Tunk, shaking his head. "Won twenty-seven races." "You're a good deal of a horseman,' I take It," said the teacher. l"WaaL some," said he, expectorating thougatfnlly, "but; I don't have no chance here. What d'ye 'spect of a man llvin with them ol maids?" lit seemed to have more contempt than his words would carry. "Every night they lock me upstairs," he continued," with a look of injury. "They ain't fit fer nobody t' live with. Ain't got no hoss but that dummed ol plug.": , . .- ...... , He had forgotten his enthusiasm of the preceding moment. His Intellect was a museum of freaks. Therein Vanity was the prodigious fat man. Memory the dwarf and Veracity the living skeleton. When Vanity rose to show himself the others left the stage. Tunk's face had become suddenly thoughtful and morose. In truth, he was an arrant and amusing humbug. It has been said that children are all given to lying in some degree, but seeing the folly of it in good time, if, Indeed, they are not convinced of its wickedness, train tongue and feeling into the way of truth. The respect for truth that is the beginning of wisdom had not come to Tunk. lie continued to lie with the cheerful Inconsistency of a child. The hero of his youth had been a certain driver of trotting horses who had a limp and a leaning shoulder. In Tunk the limp and the leaning shoulder were-an attainment that had come of no sudden wrench. Such is the power of example, he admired, then imitated and at last acquired them. One cannot help thinking what graces of character and person a like persistency would have brought to him. But Tunk had equipped himself with horsy heroism, adorning it to his own fancy. He had never been kicked, he had never driven a race or been hurled from a sulky at full speed. Prince, that ancient palfrey, was the most harmless of all creatures and would long since have been put out of misery but for the tender consideration of his owners. And Tunk well, they used to say of him that if he had been truthful hecouldn't have been alive. "Some time," Trove thought, "his folly may bring confusion upon wise beads." CHAPTER XV. IDNEY TROVE sat talking a while with Miss Letitia. Miss S'mantha, unable longer to bear the unusual strain of dan ger and publicity, went" away to bed soon after supper. Tunk Hosely came in with a candle about 9. "Waal, mister," said he, "you ready f go f bed?" "I am," said Trove and followed him to the cold hospitality of the spare room, a place of peril, but beautifully clean.. There was a neat rag carpet on the floor, immaculate tidies on the bu-' reau and wash table and a spotless quilt of patchwork on the bed; but, like the dungeon of mediaeval times. It was a place for sighs and reflection not for rest. Half an inch of frost on every window pane glistened In the dim light of the candle. ... . "As soon as they unlock my door 111 come an let ye out in the mornln," Tnnk whispered. "Are they going to lock me In? "Wouldn't wonder," said Tunk soberly. "What can ye 'spoct from a couple o dummed ol maids like them? There was a note of long suffering In his half whispered tone. "Good night, mister." said be, with a look of dejection. "Orter have a nightcap er ye'll git boar frost on yer hair." Trove was all a-shiver in the time It took him to undress, and his breath came out of him In spreading shafts steam. Sheets of llannel and not less than half a dozen qtiilts and comrortaDies made a cover, under which the heat of his nwn hl.-wvl warmwi hia body. - He became uncomfortably ware of the rrp?TifH nf Ins hfnl ami

r-t '-stern a lie turned about.

S

movements fcoyond tne door ana Knew they were barricading it with furniture. Long before daylight a hurried removal of the barricade awoke him. Then he heard a rap at the door and the excited voice of Tunk. "Say, mister, come here quick!" It called. Sidney Trove leaped out of bed and Into his trousers. He hurried through the dark parlor, feeling his way around a clump of chairs and stumbling over a sofa. The two old maids were at the kitchen door, both dressed, one holding a lighted candle. Tunk Hosely stood by the door, buttoning suspenders with one hand and holding a musket in the other. They were shivering and pale. The room was now cold. "Hear that!" Tunk whispered, turning to the teacher. -

They all listened, hearing a low. weird cry outside the door. "Soun's t' me like a raccoon," Miss S'mantha whispered thoughtfully. "Or a lamb," said MissLetitia. "Er a painter," Tunk ventured, his ear turning to catch the sound. "Let's open the door," said Sidney Trove, advancing. " - "Not me," said Tunk firmly, raising his gun. Trove had not time to act before they heard a cry for help on the doorstep. It was the voice of a young girl. He opened the door, and there stood Mary Leblanc, a" scholar of Linley school and the daughter of a poor Frenchman. She came in lugging a baby wrapped in a big shawl and both crying. ' "Oh, Miss Tower," said she, "pa has come out o' the woods drunk an' has threatened to kill the baby! Ma wants to 'know if you'll keep it here tonight." The two old maids wrung their hands with astonishment and only said "y!" ''Of course we'll keep it," said Trove as he took the baby. "I must burry back," said the girl, now turning with a look; of relief. Tunk shied off and began to build a fire. Miss S'mantha sat. down weeping, the girl ran away in the darkness, and Trove put the baby in Miss, Letitia's . arms. . - . ,, . I'll run over to Leblanc'a cabin. said he, getting his cap and . coat. "They're having trouble over there." He left them and hurried off on bis way to the little cabin. Loud cries of the baby rang in that abode of silence. It began to kick and squirm with determined energy. Poor Miss Letitia had the very look of panic In her face. She clung to the fierce little creature, not knowing what to do. Miss S'mantha lay back in a fit of hysterics. Tunk advanced bravely, with brows knit, and stood looking down at the baby. J "Lord, this Is "awful!" said he. Then a thought struck him. "I'll git some milk," he shouted, running into the buttery. , The baby thrust the cup away, and it fell noisily, the milk streaming over a new rag carpet. "It's sick. I'm sure it's sick," said Miss Letitia, her voice trembling. "S'mantha, can't you do something?" Miss S'mantha calmed herself a little and drew near. "Jes like a wil'cat," said Tunk thoughtfully. "Powerful, too," he added, with an effort to control one of the kicking legs. "What shall we do?" asked Miss Letitia. "My sister had a baby once," said Tunk, approaching it doubtfully, but, with a studious look. ' He made a few passes with his hand in front of the baby's face. Then he gave it a little poke in the ribs tentatively. The effect was like adding insult to injury. - "If 'twas mine," said Tunk, "which I'm glad it ain't, I'd rub a little o that hoss liniment on his stummick." The two old maids took the baby Into their bedroom. It was an hour later when Trove came back. Tunk sat alone by the kitchen fire. Them was yet a loud wail in the bedroom. "What's the news?" said Tunk, who .met him at the door. "Drunk, that's all," said Trove. "I took this bottle, slung shot and bar of Iron away from him. The woman thought I had better bring them with me and put them out of his way." He laid them on the floor in a corner. "I got him Into bed," he continued, "and then hid the ax and came away. I guess they're all right now. When I left he had begun to snore." "Waal, we ain't all right," said Tunk, pointing to the room. "If you can There stood Mary Leblanc conquer that thing you'll do welL Foor Miss Teesbyr he added, shaking his bead. "What's the matter with her?" Trove inquired. "Kicked In the stummick till she dunno where she is," said Tunk gloomily. He pulled off his boots. "If she don't go lame t'morrer Til miss my guess," he added. "She looks a good deal like Deacon Haskins after he had milked the brindle cow." He leaned back, one foot upon the stove heartiu Sfirill cries rang in the old house. "'Druther 'twould hev been a painter." said Tunk, sighing. "Why so?" ,. "More used to f em J said Took sadly.

They listened while jonger witaoui speaking. "Ye can't drive It, ner coax it, ner scare it away, ner do nuthin to it," said Tunk presently. He rose and picked up the things Trove had brought with him. "Ill take these to the barn," said he. "They'd have a fit if they was t see 'em. What be they?" "I do not know what they are," said Trove. Waal!" said Tunk. -"They're queer folks, them Frenchmen. This looks like an Iron bar broke in two in the middle. He got his lantern, picked up the bottle, the slung shot and the iron and went away to the barn. Trove went to the bedroom door and

rapped and was admitted. He went to work with the baby; and soon, to his Joy, it lay asleep on the bed. Then he left the room on tiptoe and a bit weary. ; "A very full day," he said to himself "teacher, counselor,- martyr, constable, nurse! I wonder what next?" And as he went to his room he heard Miss S'mantha say to her sister, "I'm thankful it's not a boy anyway." - CHAPTER XVL'. A" LL were in their seats and the tsacher had called a Carlt Homer came in. - "You're ten minutes class, late,' said the teacher. "I have fifteen Cows to milk," the boy answered.- v "Where do you live?" ? 'Bout a mile from here on the Beach plains." v. v "What time do you begin milking?" " 'Bout 7 o'clock." . T'li go tomorrow morning and help you," said the teacher. i "We must be on time. That's a necessarjrlaw of the SCtlOOl." HI - At a quarter before 7 In the morning Sidney Trove presented himself at the Homers'. He had come-to help with the milking, but found there were only five cows to milk. - - "Too bad your father Ios so many cows all in a day," said he. "It's a great pity. Did you lose anything?" "No, sir." t : , "Have you felt to see?" The boy put his hand In his- pocket."Not ther it's an Inside pocket; way inside o you. It's where you keep your honor and pride." . J ("Waal,',said the boy, his leara start mg, "I'm 'f raid I have." 4 - "Enough -said. Good morning," . the teacher answered as he went. away. One morning a few days' later' the teacher opened his school with more remarks. "The other day," said he, "I spoke of a thing it was very necessary for us to learn. What was it?" "To obey," said a youngster. "Obey what?" the teacher inquired. "Law," somebody ventured. "Correct. We're studying law, .every one of us, the laws of grammar, of arithmetic, of reading, and so on. We are learning to obey them. Now I am going to ask you what is the greatest law in the world?'. There was a moment of silence. Then the teacher wrote these words In large letters on the blackboard, "Thou shalt not lie." "There Is the law of laws," said the teacher solemnly. "Better never have been born than not learn to obey it. If you always tell the truth you needn't worry about any other law. Words are like money some are genuine, some are counterfeit. If a man had a bag of counterfeit money and kept passing it, In a little while nobody would take his money. I knew a man who said he killed four bears at one shot. There's some that see too much when they're looking over their own gun barrels. Don't be one of that kind. Don't ever kill too many bears at a "shot." After that in the Linley district a man who lied was said to be killing too many bears at a shot. Good thoughts spread with slow but sure contagion. There were some who understood the teacher. His words went home and far with them, even to their graves, and how much farther who can say? They went over the hills, indeed, to other neighborhoods, and here they are, still traveling, and going now, it may be, to the remotest corners of the earth. The big boys talked about this matter of lying and declared the teacher was right. "There's Tunk Hosely," said Sam Price. "Nobody'd take his word fur nuthin." " 'Less he was t say he was a fool out an' out," another boy suggested. "Dunno as I'd believe him then," said Sam, "fer I'd begin t think he knew suthln'." A little girt came in crying one day. "What is the trouble?" said the teacher tenderly, as he leaned over and put his arm around her. - "My father is sick," said the child, sobbing. . "Very sick?" the teacher Inquired. For a moment she could not answer. Tout stood shaken with sobs. "The doctor says he can't live," said she brokenly. , A solemn stillness fell in the little-1 schoolroom. The teacher lifted the child and held her close to his broad breast a moment. "Be brave, little glrL" said he, pat ting ber bead gently. "Doctors don't always know. He may be better tomorrow." He took the child to her seat and sat beside her and whispered a moment. his mouth close to her ear. And what he said none knew save the girl her self, who ceased to cry In a moment. but never ceased to remember it. . A long time he sat. with his arm around her, questioning the classes. He seemed to have taken his place between .her and the dark shadow. "Joe Beach had been making poor headway In arithmetic. "I'll come over this evening, and we'll see what's the trouble. It's all very easy," the teacher said. ; He worked three hours with the young man that evening and filled him with high ambition after hauling him ont of his difficulty. i. But of all difficulties the teacher had to deal with. Polly Vaughn was the rreatest Shewas nearly perfect in all

her studies, but a little mischievous and very dear to him. "Pretty" that Is one thing all said of ber there In Faraway, and they said alo with a

bitter twang that she loved to Ue abed and read novels. To Sidney Trove the word "pretty" was inadequate. As to lying abed and reading novels, he was free to say that he believed in it. 'We get very indignant about slavery in the south," he used to say, "hut how about slavery on, the- northern farms? I know people who rise at cockcrow and strain their sinews in heavy toil the livelong day and spend the Sabbath trembling in the lonely shadow of the Valley of Death. I know a man who whipped his boy till he bled because he ran away to go fishing. It's all slavery, pure and simple." "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou cat bread till thou return unto the ground," said Ezra Tower. "If God said it, he made slaves of us all," said young Trove. "When I look around here and see people wasted to the bone with sweat and toil, too weary often to eat the bread they have earned; when I see their children dying of consumption from excess of labor and pork fat, I forget the slaves of man and think only of these wretched slaves of God." But Polly was not of them the teacher pitied. She was a bit discontented, but surely she was cheerful and well fed. God gave her beauty, and the widow saw it and put her own strength between the curse and the child. Polly had her task every day, but Polly had her way also in too many things and became a bit selfish, as might have been expected. But . there was something very sweet and fine about Polly. They were plain clothes she wore, but nobody save herself and mother gave them any thought. Who, seeing her big, laughing eyes, her finely modeled face, with cheeks pink and dimpled, her shapely, white teeth, her mass of dark : hair, crowning a form tall and straight as an arrow, could see anything but the merry hearted Tolly? "Miss Vaughn, . you will please remain a few moments , after school," said the teacher one day near 4 o'clock. Twice she had been caught whispering that day with the young girl who sat behind her. , Trove had looked down, stroking his little mustache .thoughtfully, and made no remark. The girl had gone to work, then, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "I wish you'd do me a favor, Miss Polly,", said, the teacher when they were alone. c She blushed deeply and sat looking down as she fussed with her handkerchief. She was a bit frightened by the 6erious air of that big young man. "It isn't much,'! he went on. "I'd like you to help me teach a little. Tomorrow morning I shall make a map on the blackboard, and while I am doing It I'd like you to conduct the school. When you have finished with the primer class I'll be ready to take bold again." She had a puzzled look. "I thought you were going to punish me," she answered, smiling. "For what?" he inquired. "Whispering," said she. "Oh, yes! But you have read Walter Scott, and you know ladies are to be honored, not punished. I shouldn't know how to do such a thing. When you've become a teacher you'll see I'm right about whispering. May I walk home with you?" Polly had then a very serious look. She turned away, biting her lip, in a brief struggle for self mastery. "If you care to," she whispered. They walked away in silence. "Do you dance?" she -Inquired presently. ' "No, save attendance on your pleasure," said he. "Will you teach me?" "Is there anything I can teach you?" She looked up at him playfully. "Wisdom," said he quickly, "and bow to preserve blueberries and make biscuit like those you gave us when I came to tea. As to dancing well, I fear T am not shaped for sportive tricks. " "If you'll stay this evening," said she, "we'll have some more of my blueberries and biscuit, and then, if you care to, we'll try dancing." "You'll give me a lesson?',' he asked eagerly. "If you'd care to have me." "Agreed; but first let us have the blueberries and biscuit." said he heartily as they entered the door. "Hello. Mrs. Vaughn. I came over to help you eat supper. I have It all planned. Paul is to set the table. I'm to peel the potatoes and fry the pork, Polly is to make the biscuit and gravy and put the kettle on. You are to sit by and look pleasant." "I insist on making the tea," said Mrs. Vaughn, with amusement. "Shall we let her make the tea?" he asked, looking thoughtfully at Polly. "Perhaps we'd better," said she, laughing. "All right. We'll let her make the tea. We don't have to drink it." ""You," said the widow, "are like Governor Wright, who said to Mrs. Perkins, 'Madam, I will praise your tea, but hang me if I'll drink it. " "I'm going to teach the primer class In the morning." said Polly as she filled the teakettle. "Look out, young man," said Mrs. Vaughn, turning to the teacher. "In a short time she'll be thinking she can teach you." "I get my first lesson tonight," said the young man. "She's to teach me dancing." "And you've no fear for your soul?" "I've more fear for my body." said he, glancing down upon his long figure. "I've never lifted my feet save for the purpose of transportation. I'd like to learn to dance because Deacon Tower thinks It wicked, and I've learned that happiness and sin mean the same thing In his vocabulary." "I fear youre a downward and backsliding youth." said the widow. "You know what Ezra Tower said of Ebenezer Fisher, that be was 'one o them mush heads that didn't believe in hell? Are you one o that kind?" Proclaimers of liberal thought were at work there In the north. "Since I met Deacon Tower I'm

sure It's useful and necessary. Tie s got to have some place for his enemies. If it were not for hell the deacon would be miserable here and, maybe, happy hereafter." "It's a great hope and comfort to him," said the widow, smiling.

"WelL God save us aiir said Trove,! who had now a liking for both the phrase and philosophy of DarreL They had taken chairs at the table. "Tom," said he, "we'll pause a moment, while you give us the fourth rule of syntax." "Correct," said he heartily, as the last word was spoken. "Now let us be happy." "Paul." said the teacher, as he finished eating, "what Is the greatest of all laws?" "Thou shalt not lie," said the boy promptly. "Correct," said Trove; "and In the full knowledge of the law I declare that no better blueberries and biscuit ever passed my lips." Supper over, Polly disappeared, and young Mr. Trove helped with the dish'If you'll tcatch my feet you'll tee how 1 do it." es. Soon Polly came back, glowing In her best gown and slippers. "Why, of all things! What a foolish, child!" said her mother. For answer Polly waltzed up and down the room, singing gayly. , She stopped before the glass and began to fuss with her ribbons. The teacher went to her side. "May I haye the honor, Miss Vaughn?" said he, bowing politely. "Is that the way to do?" - "You might say, 'Will you be my pardncT? " said she, "mimicking the broad dialect of the region. "I'll sacrifice' my dignity, but not my language," said he. "Let us dance and be merry, for tomorrow we teach." "If you'll watch my feet you'll see how I do it," said she, and lifting ber skirt above her dainty ankles she glided across the floor on tiptoe as lightly as a fawn at 'play. But Sidney Trove was not a graceful creature. The muscles on his lithe form, developed Jin the school of work or in feats of strength, at which he had met no equal, were untrained in all graceful trickery. He loved dancing and music and everything that increased the beauty and delight of life, but they filled him with a deep regret of his ignorance. CHAPTER XVII. , HERE was much doing that winter In the Linley district. They were a month getting ready for the school "exhibiEvery home in the . valley and Ji t!on.' up Cedar hill rang with loud declamations. The impassioned utterances of James Otis, Daniel Webster and Pat rick Henry were heard in house and field and stable. Every evening women were busy making costumes for a play, while the young rehearsed their parts. Polly Vaughn, editor of a paper to be read that evening, searched the countryside for literary talent. She found a 3-oung married woman who had spent a year in the State Normal school and who put her learning at the service of Folly in a composition treating the subject of Intemperance. Miss Betsey Leech sent In what she called "a piece" entitled "Home." Polly herself wrote an editorial on "Onr Teacher," and there was hemming and hawing when she read It, declaring they all had learned much, even to love him. Her mother helped her with the alphabetical rhymes, each a couplet of sentimental history, as, for example: A Is for Alson. a Jolly young man; He'll marry Miss Betsey, they say. If ha can. They trimmed the little schoolhouse with evergreen and erected a small stage where the teacher's desk had been. Sheets were hung for curtains on a ten foot rod. A while after dark one could hear a sound of sleighbells In the distance. Away on drifeed pike and crossroad the bells began to fling their music. It seemed to come in rippling streams of sound through the still air, each with its own voice. In half an hour countless echoes filled the space between them and all were as one chorus, wherein, as it came near, one could distinguish song and laughter. Young people from afar came in cut ters and by the sleigh load; those who lived near, afoot, with lanterns. They were a merry company, crowding the schoolhouse, laughing and whispering as they waited for the first exhibit. Trove called them to order and made a few remarks. "Remember," said he, "this Is not 1 our exhibition. It Is onry .a soft of preparation for one we have planned. I In about twenty years the Linley school I is to give an exhibition worth seeing, j It wili e, I believe, an exhibition of happiness, abnity and success on the great stage of the world. Then I hope to have on the programme speeches in congress. In the pulpit and at the bar. You shall see in that play. If I mistake not, homes full of love and honor, men and women of fair fame. It may be you shall see, then, some whose names are known and honored of all men." Each performer quaked with fear, and both sympathy and approval were in the applause. .Miss Polly Vaughn was a rare picture of rustic beauty.

ner cneess as rea as tier riooons, ner voice low and sweet. Trove came out In the audience for a look at her ax she read. Ringing salvos of laugbtei

h greeted the play and stirred the alelghueus on ine startled horses beyond th door. The programme over, somebody called for Squire Town, a local petti-, fogger, who flung his soul and body into every cause. He often sored his knuckles on the court table and racked his frame with the violence of his rhetoric. He had a stock of Impassioned remarks ready for all occasions. He rose, walked to the center of th stage, looked sternly at the people mad addressed them as "fellow citizens." He be la bored the small table; he rost on tiptoe and fell upon his heels; often he seemed to fling his words with a rapid jerk of his right arm as on hurls a pebble. It was all In praise of his "young friend." the teacher, and the high talent of Linley school. The exhibition ended with this rarf exhibit of eloquence. Trove announced the organization of a singing school fol Monday evening of the next week, and then suppressed emotion burst lnta noise. The Linley schoolhouse had b come as a fount of merry sound In tha still night; then the loud chorus of tha bells, diminishing as they went away and breaking Into itreams of musid and dying faint in the far woodland. One Nelson Cartright a Jack of all trades they called him was the singing master. He was noted far and wide for song and penmanship. Every year his intricate flourishes in black and white were on exhibition at the county! fair. "Waal, sir," men used to say thoughtfully, "ye wouldn't think be knew; beans. Why, he's got a fist blgger'n nam. uut 1 ten ye, let mm take a pen, sir, and he'll draw a deer so nat'ral, air. ye'd swear be could Jump over a six rail fence. Why, it Is wonderful!" Every winter he taught the arts of song and penmanship In the four die trlcts from . Jericho to Cedar hllL Ha sang a roaring bass and beat the time with dignity and precision. For weeks he drilled the class on a bit of lyrlo melody, of which, a passage la bersj given. "One, two, three, ready, sins;. hm would say, his ruler cutting the sir, and all began: , Listen to the bird and the maid and tfcs humblebee, j Tra. la la la la, tra, la la la la; Joyfully we'll sing the gladsome melody, Tra, la la la la. The singing school added little to th knowledge or the cheerfulness of that neighborhood. It came to an end tha last day of the winter term. As usual. Trove went home with Polly. It was a cold night, and as the crowd left them at the corners he put his arm around her, - "School is over," said, she. with a) sigh, "and I'm sorry." "For me?" he inquired. "For myself," she answered, looking down at the snowy path. There came a little' silence crowded with happy thoughts. "At first I thought you very dreadful," she went on, looking up at him with a smile.. He could see her sweet face in the moonlight and was tempted to kiss it. . . ' .- . "Why?" "You were so teTrible,, she answered, "Poor Joe Beach & It seemed as if ha would go through the wall." "Well, something had to happen to him," said tite teacher. "He likes you now, and every one , likes you here. I wish we could have you always for a teacher." "I'd be willing to be your teacher always if I could only teach yon what you have taught me." ' "Oh, dancing," said she merrily. "That is nothing. I'll give 70a all tha lessons you like." "No, I shall not let you teach om that again," said he. i "Why?" "Because your pretty feat trample on me." ; " Then came another silence. "Don't you enjoy It?" she aakedm looking off at the stars. Too much," said he. "First, I must teach yon something. If I can." ( He was ready for a query If It cuss, bnt she put him off. "I Intend to be a grand lady," said- , she, and If you do not learn you'll never be able to dance with me." "There'll be others to dance with you." said he. "I have so much else to do." "Ob, you're always thinking about algebra and arithmetic and those dreadful things," said she. "No. I'm thinking now of something; very different." "Grammar, I suppose," said she, look ing down. "Do you remember the ctrnjagti tlons?" j Try me." said she. J "Give me the first person singular, passive voice, present tense, of th verb to love." "I am loved," was bee answer aa she looked away. f "And don't you know I love you TP1 said be quickly. "That Is the active voice," said she, turning, with a smile. "Polly," said he, "I love yon tM S could love no other In the world." He drew her close, and she looked up at him very soberly. ' "Y'ou love me?" she said In 9, half whisper. j - "With all my heart," be answered, "I hope you will love me some time." j Their lips came together. ' T do not ask yon now to say that you love me," said the young man. "Y'ou are young and do not know your own heart." She rose on tiptoe and fondly touched his cheek with ber fingers. "But I do love you," she whispered. "I thank God you have told me, but I shall ask you for no promise. A yeaf from now, then, dear, I shall ask yoa to promise that you will be my wife some time." - "Oh, let me promise now," she whispered. (To be Continued Next Sunday.) See how what you have fteard looks In print and get a dollar for doing it Win the news "tip" prize.

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