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Show iifpLE BLOSSOMS AND NOVEMBER jlj BY VIRGINIA LEILA WENTZ. RLwrteht, 1904. by Virginia Leila 6 TVenlz.) W !lni not hard-hearted, you know; if' L 1 mu3t pay my bills when they fall W The stout landIad' compressed llpgas though she had said a thing m u nurt 1,er to uUer" M- 5 " understand. Indeed." the girl reft re-ft ivd passively, pushing back her heavy, Vnins ar w,lh a ,,ttle sosture of ivSi(iilce33-j'Of ivSi(iilce33-j'Of course, tomorrow belli' Thanks-irrln' Thanks-irrln' Da' J'ou eetln,t disturb your-Kif your-Kif but make yourself comfortable till ffrtifl)'-" Sno Iooked at the blanl door ; Web closed quietly behind the girl. ' WrZa her eyes returned to the columns K' ter account book. They wore opened Mtiapa&e headed, "Miss Rose Darcey" Kimse where the debits considerably Lirbalanced the credits. Mtvo too good a heart to be a. micccs3-llhl micccs3-llhl business woman," murmured the luklaaV. closing the book. y-rlUght was fast coming on. Up-liulrs Up-liulrs In tlic fourth floor back there iris a fire In the grate bright yellow td scarlet flames, burning In a cease-va cease-va endeavor to destroy an asbestos ' w Rose Darcey slipped down on the Coor, and with her arms folded about Is knees, matched the fire, thinking typical it was of the life she had in leading for the past year. Why, Jwrythlng even her hearth fire; was eli'irtindal! 'she fell to dreaming. It was seldom 'WsiVnad time to dream, for she was nl-jVCys nl-jVCys busy trying to make both ends ftX:t. But now, since they simply would KjSt nieet, she might as well dream for Eft tiny space. How tired she was of Hltill-of the struggles, the petty am-fijltaions. am-fijltaions. the give-and-take friendships, w-lltit endless cold shoulders, the eternal I Ar.d tomorrow would be Thanksgiving li Toy! How well she remembered that bjr In other ears' In her aunt's humble i' tote farmhouse there had ever been the if ' clranclng odor of pumpkin and mince S'l ;H of stewed cranberries, of browning g Krkey, of plum puddjng, of good things I numerable Not this year, though, I" ehe had robbed them of all that. ' 0L It was hard, hard, hard' V A rap at the door, and Patty Lou, the yii tared girl entered. m : "A gem-man In the parlor to sec you VJssj "Wouldn't send his name, nl-jtria' nl-jtria' he wanted to s'prlse you, I reck- Down In the r.arrow, gaudy room a an with a gray mustache and a shag-'Tcoat shag-'Tcoat sat on the sofa alone, As he .ioticd unseolngly about him, the stern faa in his mouth relaxed; In their Jul came an expression of extreme I "I '"idleness. f. SU his years of walling harked back J -bhlm. He seemed to see, as In a glass, ej iny girl In a gingham apron stand-ftr stand-ftr under an apple tree; and then she wraed. to grow and grow, but always lit' had sunshine In her hair and a In her eyes. He had' waited for Mi 'hr to attain to womanhood, dreaming li (ewms the villagers had never guessed." X- ,iM then becauEe she had talent for t- tt-forsooth, and her aunts had aald V; reunt be cultivated, even though it f ; E4ant a third mortgage on their little irra-she had passed out of his life. I, .- Lately, however, John Lowell had v, asght a rumor that things were not li phg well with her in the mad, com,-? com,-? jJcUtlve life of New York, and so lie SUK Ul,n ail(i wn,to she had grown' I j.Anhe pushed aside the- cheap, Bagdad P ortleres, she seemed to be all gleam-j gleam-j r-J hair and great, pathetic eyes. If he fKtt only hold her proud little face be-n be-n both palms and kiss her dear, .cd eyes' . Jutead (he knew her temperament so well) he talked about the home village, about the queer, poky little streets, and the dull village gossip. "Is the apple crop good this vear?" she asked suddenly. "Have you ground a lot of cider?" For answer he dived Into one of the Pockets of his shaggy gray coat and letched up a shining red apple. i,lTranwS; U's a kcn-uly." exclaimed feel,nS of Its smoothness. Came off your tree, Rose." "My tree?" "Yes; the Immense one In the corner lon t you remember? I've called It your tree ever since since one day when you were very little, and you wanted some blossoms." "I suppose you got them for me, If I wanted them?" said the girl softlv. How good he had always been to he'r! He was Just like that shaggy coat of his big and rough and wholesome, and worth while. Last night she had dreamed' that her head lay on that same shaggy coat, u s stronE anns were about her. while she was relating to him all the discouragements of her metropolitan experience, ex-perience, and each time that she had lifted her head to emphasize some point or other how good It had been to get back to the coat afterward In the dream, of course! "You see, the blossoms were out of your reach." he went on, "and I hap pened to be coming along, you said If I'd get you the flowers you'd be my" "What'" "Sweetheart." The word was very tenderly uttered; the tenderness made her tremble somehow. But she laughed gaily. "Your sweetheart? Rash promise, wasn't', it? "And when I lifted you up," he continued, con-tinued, "you put your arm about my neck " "How shockingly Improper!" "And from that moment," he pursued gravely, "I've never thought of anybody else for for a wife, Rose." "How long ago was that?" she asked whimsically. "Twelve, last blossom time " "Then I must have been only nine years old." "I wonder, dear, if it would be right to hold a girl to a promise she made when she was only nine?" From beneath her long lashes she caught the wrapt expression on his face, as he leaned toward her. and she quivered quiv-ered with a sense of sudden protection. protec-tion. "I wonder?" Her voice trailed off vaguely, as she watched a lighted cable car go by. but he caught her to him gladly, with a new air o& protection. A few moments later, from the great, shaggy coat, came a tearfully muffled but happy cry: "Oh, John, It's just like It was in the dream just like it was In the dream'" To John Lovell the words ln themselves them-selves were a bit irrelevant. But what . did a man like him care for words, when he held In his arms the thing he prized most In the world? |