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Show 110 (Hp ill When the Clatter of the Reawakened Reawak-ened Machinery Turned Into Music. i By HAROLD CARTER. ' "Seems to me you young folks don't think of nothing but pleasure," said Mrs. Adams querulously, as she watched her daughter Lizzie put on her new hat. ' "I never had clothes like those you've bought since you've been in the mill." "For the Lord's sake,-mother, don't you want me to go out at all?" replied re-plied the other crossly. "There, I'm eorry," she added, as she stooped to kiss the invalid. "I won't be gone long." "Well, see that Si Winton brings you back safe," grumbled the elder woman, watching her daughter enviously envi-ously as she passed through the door and into the village street. But Lizzie dams was not thinking of Si Winton, whom her mother had eelected as her beau. Si was ot unwilling un-willing that he should be the subject of parental approbation, for the Adams Ad-ams family was the first in the county, coun-ty, and it was a collateral branch, the WInthrop Adamses, who owned the big new cotton mill which drew thousands of young people from the mountain districts to work there. Liz-eie Liz-eie Adams, however, was of the poorer poor-er branch. Her small wage was all that sustained their family of two and before that they had lived in the utmost penury. Their tiny cottage was at the end of the village street, and almost bare. Mrs. Adams grudged Lizzie the few dollars she withheld for clothes. Lizzie Adams was not going to the village. Instead she made her way toward the brand new brick man-Bion man-Bion of her cousin Herbert, who had come from college the week before to take charge of the mill upon the occasion of his father's sudden demise. de-mise. They had been sweethearts in the good old days, before Winthrop Adams had risen from a country store- ?: O'- V vV3t? Ha my " I ' xwm So Long as Her Mother Lived She Must Go Back. keeper to a country magnate, by a shrewd investment. But doubtless Herbert had long ago forgotten her. For she had not seen him for four five years, it must be. And her last memory of that stolen kiss under the maples, and her still more shameful acquiescence in it, made her cheeks redden as she walked. She was not hoping to meet Herbert; Her-bert; she was just taking a stroll, attired at-tired in her best hat and her one wearable gown. And if he should remember re-member his promise about some day returning well Dangerous thoughts fitted through her little head. Those who seek, find. Lizzie met Herbert, driving a smart trap, and by his side sat a young lady, dressed in what seemed to Lizzie the height of fashion. And because there was hardly hard-ly room to pass the trap stopped, and Herbert recognized her and bowed and smiled and turned to the girl at his side and spoke. Then she smiled scornfully, and the trap disappeared behind her. . "You haven't quarreled with Si Winton?" Win-ton?" asked her mother, crossly, when Lizzie returned. "No, I didn't meet him," answered the girl. Two minutes later she was Btifiing her sobs upon her bed in the little room adjoining the Invalid's. If Herbert had no thoughts for her upon the street, how would he greet her in the mill when, dressed in her working clothes and covered with lint, Bhe toiled at the machine? She could not bear to drag herself into the place next morning. The girls stood there, heavy-eyed, sullen of face, dreaming of Sunday and of their beaux. "Now, then, don't stand dreaming there!" shouted Miss Jones, the forewoman, fore-woman, to Lizzie. "Seems to me you're the unhandiest girl In the mill. Don't you know young Mr. Adams Is coming round to Inspect this place this morning?" Lizzie Adams turned sullenly to her machine. She had long ago learned that her distant relationship to the owner exposed her only to derision. Old Winthrop Adams had never liked the girl. The branches of the family had quarreled in the long ago, and he had justified his conscience by giving her a place in the mill. It was toward noon when Herbert Adams came in, escorted by the foreman. fore-man. He passed slowly along the line of machines, listening to his guide's explanation. Half way down he came upon Lizzie. He must have seen her. But he did not even look at her. Lizzie felt herself reddening; she heard Miss Jones snicker audibly behind her. Herbert passed on. "Seems to me some folks ought to know their places," Miss Jones remarked re-marked to one of her friends, "and not go making eyes at their betters." Lizzie worked on in silence. The clatter of the machinery seemed a torture. tor-ture. She felt herself caught helplessly help-lessly in the jaws of these monsters, just as the cotton was caught, ravelled, rav-elled, shredded and seeded. She was equally helpless. And the future stretched away, as far as she could see, equally hopeless. She would never be able to leave the mill unless Si Winton At noon she crept away to spend the half hour's recess somewhere under the trees, away from the prying eyes of those who had seen the incident of the morning. The forest extended almost al-most to the mill fence; it was part of the old Adams estate and sacred against the ax. In the distance, through the trees, Lizzie could see the red brick house. A thought came to her. Why should she not run away! Why not just walk and walk and walk into those green vistas of trees, anywhere, any-where, so long as she never turned back? No! So long as her mother lived she must go back, from day to day, to endure the jeers and scoffs and coarse speech of those others who recognized that she was not one of them, and envied and hated her. Suddenly a shadow fell across her path and she found herself looking up into the face of a bronzed young man whose eyes were bent upon her with unmistakable interest. "Lizzie!" exclaimed the mill owner, own-er, "I saw you leaving the grounds, and followed you. How do you do? I've often thought of you since we parted let me see, years ago. It must be." "You seemed to forget your politeness polite-ness this morning in the mill," the girl retorted, struggling to keep back her tears. "Why," exclaimed the young man in astonishment, "really, I was so eni-barrasesd eni-barrasesd I thought it best " "Yes, you were embarrassed because be-cause I wasn't dressed like your friend yesterday," she blurted out, and could have bitten her tongue afterward. "Miss Keith? Why she why, Lizzie, Liz-zie, dear, she's the agent for the cot ton company just a business woman, who is negotiating for the year's output. out-put. You didn't think" Suddenly he caught her in his arms. "Lizzie," he whispered, with his face very close to hers, "did you think I had forgotten? Don't you know my father sent "me away to college because be-cause I cared? I want you, Lizzie, just as I always did; I want a girl of my own country and my own people, not Miss Keith!" And the clatter of the reawakening mill suddenly turned into music. (Copyrlgrht, 1913, by W. G. Chapman.) |