CIHM Microfiche Series (lUionographs) ICMH Collection de microfiches (monographles) Canadian Inatituta for Hiatorical Mieroraproductiona / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductiona hiatoriquaa Tin iMiiUiii iiM •fMt of vM IMMH M wM Cown D n D MHO/ Of IMMROMOf L«tilra4»( CartH Cotonrad Ml (i A otfMT Am Mm or biadi)/ Enera di ooi i hiif (i^. CelmiMd plaiw mti/ot Hli •t^y ilkntrMiom n 1 I ItoMMwd'Milm u fONura Mifoo pout c oudala □ BMc Im«w aMMl *«iii0 Ntioralioii mai wMiin Itw tMt miMWMr poHiMt, ttMM mayappi III lofsri lat n'ont D :/ COIMMfllOlfOI inuiuii HNOioniiiio lo MaM «Mll □ C oloM w d atten erfmnrt/ □ QmUty of print variM/ QiMlrti iw iiala da II MNnNHRNH papnawNi/ Pagination cont in u a □ IndMlai indaxlat)/ Coiwprawd im (dat) indax THIa on haadar takan from:/ La titra da Tan-lha proviant: □ TidaiMflaefiM Nfla da titra dt laUvraiwn □ Caption of isMa/ Titra da dtpartda la livraiion D n, or tha back covar wtian approprlata. AN othar original copiaa ara filmad baginning on tha first paga with a printad or Iliuatratad impraa- slon, and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or Ulustratad imprasston. Laa imagaa suhNintaa ont AM raproduhaa avac la plus grand soin, compta tami da la condition at da ia nattati da I'axampbiira film*, at an conformM avac las condMons du contrat da flimaga. Laa axampiairaa origlnaux dont la couvartura an papiar aat imprim4a aont film4a mn comman^nt par la pramlar plat at an tarminant salt par la darniira paga qui comporta una amprainta dimpraaaton ou dlHustration. soit par la sacond plat, salon la eas. Tous laa autraa axampiairaa origlnaux aont fNmia an commandant par la pramiAra paga qui comporta una amprainta dImpraaakMi ou dlHustration at it tarminant par la damMra paga qui comporta una taHa amprainta. Tha last racordad frama on aach microficha shaH contain tha symbol — »> (maaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha symbol ▼ (maaning "END"), wMehavar appHaa. Un daa symbolaa suhrants apparaftra sur la damiira imaga da chaqua microficha, salon la cas: la symbola — ^ signifia "A 8UIVRE". la symbola ▼ signifia "FIN". Maps, platas, charts, ate., may ba filmad at diffarant raduction ratkM. Thoaa too iarga to ba antiraly included in ona axposura ara filmad baginning in tha uppar laft hand cornar. laft to right and top to bottom, as many framas as raquirad. Tha following diagrams Hlustrata tha mathod: Las cartas, planehas, taMaaux, ate., pauvant Atra filmte i das taux da rMuction diffirants. Lorsqua la documam ast trap grand pour Atra raproduit an un saul ciich4, ii ast filmi A partir da I'angla aupAriaur gaucha, da gaucha i droita, at da haut an bas, an pranam la nombra d'imagas nteassaira. Laa diagrammas suh^ants illustrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ««iaQOow nmunoN mr awn (ANSI and SO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 1.1 lit u 2.5 2.2 LM 140 125 lu |U ij. ^ y^PPUBD fM/K3E Inc {'••J 4a2 - 0300 - Phon* ijm -F« iS, • !..:lli!;;!liil ! li i 1 ! I MllinniHfflililiniHiliHRflUilHIWnHuHDIniHIiniHN ,'!' II 1 ■!! ! ! liynHniiininHnHiHHtiuinHHiiiiMinn i liMi !i! ; •i; ■ i! !:;ij i i nUiiiiiiiin iijiH i I ■ imi ' ' .liViiii'l'iV'l'i' ii! i !i li! !i ,lil! 1^ '• '1; 1' : ; : ; ;! ■ . ■ ■ ![■ , ■ r m M IM l\\[ 1 i 'im li'i \'' IHI'il- ■1? 1 i; li'i'li ! fa 11 ill i 11 P '1 ill p '' SI liliv 4 \ 1 f! fiffff ! II 1 in ill i f f 1 lis Ni ii ii M/c The Little Organist o' St. Jerome And Other Stories ./ Work and Experience By Annie L. Jack TORONTO: WILLIAM BRI GGS 1903 V r Kntvkl accacding to Act of the PvliMMat of Cuada. in th« jMT OM thaoHad niM handnd and two. by Anmib L. Jack. at tka DopartoMnt of Agricoltatc. s r DEDICATED TO ^bc Dear (Pnee of mislbc AND MPU.USH.D .V TH. KWD PBEMISSION Or HARPER BROTHERS AND OTH«« AMKWCAN POBUSHKM CONTENTS. THE UTTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME..'*: A BROWN STUDY KITCHEN SUNSHINE '^ A SILVER WEDDING .... ^' EDWOR'S WOLF ..... ' * * " 5* THE FLORIST'S WIFE'S STORY - . . ^' IN THE CONVENT GARDEN /. . ' ^ LISBETH GREY'S BIRTHDAY -....'' CHRISTMAS "FURTHER ON" " ' " ^8 82 Deal gently wi^ us, ye who read. Our largest hope is unfulfilled, The pnnnise still outruns the deed, The tower, but not the spire, we build. Our whitest pearl we never find. Our ripest fruit we never reach. The flowering moments of the mind Drop half their petals in our speech. —O. W. Holmes. THE Little Organist of St. J erome CHAPTER I. yZ^t^"^"^ •'1'"'"^ earnestly with hfa ywng fnend and gu«t. Leona.^ Channing, who h^ come up from Boston to enjoy a fortK firt-og during bass season. Fini bass w« „o- wh^to^found ^ m > „«,. „.ver JZ Z ^~me. J««t below the village occunedTe June- hon of Its unpretending stnam with the mteh^ ^-«na, „d, in addition to the sportng •*^oo. of the place, the sceneor in the v^^r^ ««noMttUcons.de«tion. At least, thus the ,t bZ'wiAT"''' "'"• ""■« *« good cu,< was ^Z^t X S:"^ ^ n,i„ist«tions, had ^^ ^r? *'"°'^ ** *»«»»» valley and hjda»j^.t the most beautiful spot ^h*"J t '*'J°?' '*'•»' '»«' "x*" «t cdleee when I-on.«i-. bther. then a mere boy, h«. ^^^ 7 THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME to learn French in the Province of Quebec. They had studied together and grown fondly attached to each other, in spite of their religious and polit- ical differences, often good-humoredly argued be- tween them, and the friendship begun in the old College of St Eustace had remained unchanged for more than a quarter of a century. Now that his friend's son had come, bearing a letter of intro- duction from his father, the boy seemed so like the companion of his youth that the good cur^ had warmed to him at once, and was living over his own boyish days in thought as the young fellow wandered, whistling softly, through the solemn house, and bringing something to the isolated cur6 of the great, wonderful worid beyond his narrow boundaries. " And so your people never marry Protestants ? " the young man was asking, his clear, well-cut fea- tures Uking on a covert look of anxiety. •* *Jo, my son," answered the good father, '♦ we do not have any trouble of that sort Our people are educated to implicit obedience to the rules of the Church, and they feel that religious differences are enough to keep them apart" The young man folded his napkin and put it into the silver ring beside his plate. He was thinking most intently of something else, yet he noticed now for the first time, that the cross was engraved upon the ring, and the word " AmL" 8 THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME temptationa." "" ** f*^ good CttoHr^^LS:^ '• u'T^ "• "« • you are not L:/ 7^"*™' " " fortunate that l* n.„„i„g off w.wTf'^L'^!!''"'''^ ■»'«*♦ «»y might convince yoa o?7hnA '"" •''"e« religion „d be of ^ZZtiLZ^t °" '"">' The good mw !,«, ^d tt« 1?^.'° 'T"°"' " »>emnly. Then h. ,ritl^„'"f. ,X '"" my Leonaid," he added "vou mtafc. \ '^■ veo- choicest flower .ndolo^khT '*'** "^ I would only ble« the tan^^'!' " '"''"^"■- "d "Thank you — thank vou" fk- sterrr»£c--^« -p h.? -.-rw^'rt„'^ed^,''ir "«^ ^ hand and pas^d fnt of tte 2 ^***"^'' °" The bell struck heavily anri fk- V^* mournfully thn,„gh t^e r^"^ '*!! "°*^ ^^^''^ted uic room. The young man THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME went to the window and looked out, just m the cur^ appeared on the threshold of the church. A coffin, evidently that of a child, was carried rather jauntily along by eight young boys wearing white muslin around their low-crowned felt hats. A motley procession followed the little band of 'noumers. He could hear the service plainly through the open window. "How stoical these people look," thought the young onlooker in a little fit of disgust with him- self and the small ,>Yorld around him. " They appear to take this whole ceremony as a part of their day's work." He glanced up, noted the fact that the pleasant morning sky was softly veiled with clouds, thought with a sportsman's quick sense of its advantages, and turned away to look for his fishing-tackle. As he moved about, he hummed softly to himself snatches from "Faust" At times these broke into the song: '* Whf t is it that charms me. And, with passion true and tender, warms me ? " He put on a linen coat and a large coarse straw hat, and walking down to the river-bank, loosed the boat from its moorings and rowed out into the stream with even strokes, which told of long prac- tice with the Harvards, but at the bend of the river he paused a moment to lift his hat to a young lO THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME girl, drtsscd as if for church, who was just hurnri„a out of the doorway of a cottage. ' "»"y»ng -She is late for the funeral," he thought m« h*. •^Uy allowed hi, bo.. ,o drift . tm^t -T ^nd«-I wonder.-if Ac waited . li„le «, „ ^ tt me come down the river. He smiled softly to himself, turned to look tnin after the light .nd gr«ef„l «p,„ „f t^,!^ ag«n, and .gam looked back. The giri h«J d^ .We.«d now, but he could stiU s4 the qu^m ■ng beside it-indeed planted close to its eaiden fence,, heavy wooden cross-the emblem rftS fi«t voj^rs up the river, who faithfully ,e Se ^Mei .long, m lieu of churehes. Young Channi^ h.d often observed them in his drive, ttrough te ple«ant counter ro«is. and h«l wondered „te rrtTTair^tti^t^r:^^' for, Uke Cowper-. cottag,;,^ '^ ** "**»^ ' "'°" '"""»•'«"»•" «o ■««. he, Bibl. tn»," •hey rested in their settled belief— f~. «_ doubt, and •gn.-ticism-.Sy wf ^":^.„*" w" «»i«ht a«, plaiu, «d^liv^*Xir^ THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME trustful lives, confident of the future, whether in this world or in the next Yes, they were happy. He thought of them as they had looked at a fftte the week before — uncouth, awkward, ill-dressed, but very placid and happy. How different from the rest of them seemed Felicite, the pretty young girl to whom he had just lifted his hat. None of her companions had such clear blue eyes and fluffy flaxen hair as she. Perhaps it was her love for music, and the training she had in playing, that had made her so unlike the others. " The little organist of St Jerome," they called her, for, for more than a year now, she had told him, she had played the organ in the curb's church ''as," the cur^ had himself told Channing, "it had never been played before." " Yes, of course," the young man argued, " such a life and such a grand passion would affect her a great deal. It is that which makes her so refined and delicate, and so unlike her people. She is like Marguerite among the peasants." Then he stopped and laughed, for he thought of what Emerson says — and what Bostonian but cherishes the axioms of that wise philosopher? "The lover sees no personal resemblance in his mistress to her kindred or to others." "Pshaw!" bethought, "can it be that in these few days I have come to love- her, till a saying that is meant to be applied to the wildest and deepest \% THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME purian, cjn be .pplfed to m.r How .b«.rt|- W. bre-t. which w» not ouiMd by rowing, „d U» penhtency with which be lingered ne^ the d^"fh.t h '"k" "^""^ *•' "' f«""P ««« aeeper than he chose to measure them How would .he look-thi. C.n«li«, ,«e-he wondered, transplanted to the cultured society in which he moved at home? Ah, she would IZ K™ K 'j^.^-i''-'^' beauty, he, char^-i;^ little French air. the bewitching a cent with which •he spoke, and her low, tender voice. He was hi, own master and. despite the opinion of the bo«^" natured curt, he believed that a m«-„a« iXen himself and Fdicit. would be right a. i^Z certainly would not interfere with her rel^on It was a good thing for women to be pious. They were and Ideality, and he did not care to object to this cc^stitutioi. The „ore he thought, the'morlf.^" ble and desirable his plan seemed to him. He felt «« the girl loved him. and to-night h^woSd ™ than he had dated as yet to say. The day wore on. He rowed to a shady place nto the sport, and caught nothing. The geneZ, undb which the curb's housekee^ had ?^S3^ for him remained almost untaatS.and iH^ THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME gladly bKk toward liome in the eariy twilight, just at the vesper beU was calling the childien from their play. _ .. , Ai he approached the cottage in which Felidle lived, he law her, jurt landed from her white painted boat, while her icarlet oart flaihed in the rayt of the setting sun. Once more his voice broke into a low song : *• All hsU, thoo dwtUiiig pun sad lowly, HoiM of sa^ fiOr sad bdy." How very charming she looked, in her white dress, with her flaxen hair and tranquil fcce. Yes, she was, indeed, like Marguerite. And to continue the likeness, was he, like Mephistopheles, tampering with a young girl's soul ? Now he was just opposite to her, and she saw him. Should he bow and pass by ? Periiaps he had better. But, ah I when was love ever discreet or wise? A moment more, and the two boats were moored side by side, and the two lovers were wandering up the littie lane that skirted the quaint old garden of Felicite's mother. CHAPTER II. Through a gap in the fence they strolled to the foot of an old applctree, laden with pink-and-white blossoms. Close beside them rose the wooden cross. t4 THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST JEROME •"/ auues, which are our daily thorng." pairs of oa« beatinTff^ ^* '^** *^^ ^^ree "ViveaCMtdienne, Vole, mon joeor, vole, Vive la Cnadienne, fitseejollsyeoxdoox; Etietjoli3)reaxdoiix, Toutdoin, £t see join yeuxdoux." The repetiUon of the measuK h>^ »nd a sound of force a^T^ * ^^""^^ *^' kept up the «fr.i„X after r^°"^- ?' ^'^^^^ out of sight It WM^i JZ ^~^«" had passed the distant Jl^t^^'^^f'^y^^^^. Channinffwlshri^he^^,,tr^'!'"- ^o"ng 2 ^^- *t IS the curb's M THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME dinner hour and he will not like to have me late. Good-night, Felicite,"— he took her hand. « Good- night," he repeated. " I— I am going home next week, Felicite," he continued, "unless— unless— you will promise to go with me if I wait a while. Have you not seen that I love you, dear? Will you not go with me?" His voice was full of fervor. The girl looked up at him with her eyes flooded with tears. «Oh, monsieur," she almost sobbed, "you do me an honor,— but— but you are a— Protestant— and—" Her voice faltered, and he felt a great disappomt- ment stealing over him. " Let it go now, Felicite," he said, hurriedly. « I have been too sudden. I loved you too much. I will wait. Say no more now, but to-morrow, after vespers, I will come for your answer. Oh, Feli- cite,— you cannot, you will not say words which will break my heart" He kissed her almost fiercely,— their first kiss,— whispered through his shut teeth, "Ah, speed thou, night, away I " and walked rapidly toward his skiff. Felicite remained standing in the shadow of the cross long after she ceased to hear the dip of the oars. Her heart was beating ..^.lost to suffocation, and she was looking with overflowing eyes upon the circlet of nails that crowned the wooden cross. The thorns of duty! Yes, that was it But because |6 I THE LITTLE ORGAmST OF ST. JEROME *e *on« pricked ,h.rp„. ,ho„y ,„^ „^^ ^ "•ore. Ye, that fa ^C f ' "'^ P'«"« "« there.-toilindjl""' '''*«" P" ^e nails tI.atdatym"™tedo;e °" ^^'ufon. falter. She threwher^if H • "° """'" '«'* h*"" ' " bitterly '"'''°"" "Po-^he bench and wept rolIoweLfMnKti^rt.:^'?' °^"' "■" '"« the river Chateauguay Th^Z -^ '"'° "• O"^' massive tower, ofTe?»,Kr^L"""^ ''?'"'« '"d showed in str74 :on ^"'■"'irVl^'- J"°™ building, all anel«,„r. . *' '""^ 'ed-brick Soften^ 4- the 4-,tanr""'^'r*°'" ""'' «''ef. Felidte was play "f ^f ■ ^ ** ^f "•" °'«»''- Leonard ChannZ . ^''"' E'eison," but Pe" in U,e mUe pibw """"^ "" ^"'"' * W upon the ffii^hbacw'i"'H ""'.*'■■' ^"^ comfortless ««ignltion "^ ""* »" »'' of Nicholas, the drover «eat~i i.- »hich caused the b^rt t!^ h'"«elf with a thud, «id in audible tonJr^n'" ^'^ o""nously, and after I got to town ' If, a bid'" '":!'" '"' ^^"^ ters, Mr. Todd." ^"^ ^' 'or weak crit- 17 Ik THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME The farmer thus addressed nodded lugubriously as he rejoined, " Neighbor Tompkins haint got one left." The drover quickly turned to meet the next arri- val, who entered with a quiet step and subdued air and took a seat on the opposite side of the aisle. "Old man Rutherfo- : ^y better?" he asked of the drover. "A little," replied that serious personage, "but the doctors don't think he's going to get over it" " Well." said a handsome young woman with a severe cast of features, who had heard the enquiry and reply, " if his time's come, he'll go. You can't fight against God's laws. It's no use talking. When your time's come, you've got to go. Its foreor- dained." "Foreordained !" thought young Channing. "Yes, that's it— something is foreordained for me. I believe that. I seem to feel that I am in the grip of Fate now. It is the first time I have ever felt it so. To think that possibly I, who have always had my own way, and felt like a veritable king of my own destiny, should be balked at last, perhaps in the think I want most I Yet I cannot believe that it is going to be so ! " He tried to feel as buoyant as usual, but he could not quite shake off a sort of foreboding which the woman's stern words had roused within him, and his thoughts were still gloomy as the Rev. Timothy Browne, the pastor, i8 I' m tHEumEOROAmsTOFST.JHROMK WMked up to the puloit -n. had lingered till L^Lt m^™°? "'' '^ *'«> l>«vid set in metre were T iL V' ^* '^'*'«" "^ to fti, «vere ^Z^^T^'j! "T^ '"owed «wenty.fi„t wa. given I, 1,^! °"' '»"'<''«' and sing. ^ "'" °"« fo' the congregstion to ''•».h.bin.„„„ft„i. From whrace doth come mTidd . ifie tune was started by a fall .k: «»ce was a sort of ill-trainL '" "■"' """ose t«""P The tenor join^^?'"r"°' "■* » ""^ "««. and there wi "In" * "°" «markable accompaniment from a creld or^*** °' » "«» '«« and tuneless d "nfne^*^ ^ '^'' """"o time- of women could dZT *"*" '*"''"" chorus looklf tt"igh ;^ ^'J^a-y »ennon, Leona.^. ««".y-*hite drl p!.!:;^:' »» Felicite in her the bridge that s^n^Tl^^ '" "*"* "°«'"g ""derher bro^j-Wm^*' "'*'•• ""«>fthair! ^" cheek by a wand^ng bt^zr."""" ^"'' who passed her greeted h«^ !), .^ ^""K "an -edthebriet-Jtd':?y-:-^e % n t THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME on, lightly and gracefully as a wild thing of the w«<-ore mug lilled with Howe^ Z,^ *"«»»• A blue before it. and a I^^c™^, ^°'*«<"^«i"e hung beside it nX bjTZ » ^? ?"' "^^es «*>ch the little girl fS hfrf Tu '"^" "•»" lessons in playing So^IIk • '*^*" ■■" «"t in Turkey-Uetot/"""'. '**»'«« "Pholstered comer sti.Slpto,^'"!"'";*""*" **"« '■■ « The mother CS ^'^^ trV"'''""J«'"'- tl-e young man not^tS^°^^«*«- *''° »""«' Tdinary Canadian tyn^^H^ ^"f"''- "^ "f the ^^« she did not ^mb^'hrrd'r^^t'-* '■ *" felt confident, disapproved of THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME him entirely. Was he not an •* American," and were not the "Americans" heretics? But the blandishments of a fine-looking and cultured young man were not easy to resist, and in response to his sincere efforts she soon found herself Ulking volubly with him of Pire Loiselle and of Petite, her daughter, who had been sent to Ville Marie to learn music, and had persevered through many difficulties until even the Bishop had complimented her playing during hi last pastoral visit She was such a good giri, too and had made her premi^ communion so young. " Mon Dieu 1 how belle she looked that day—jwst a little bride 1" CHAPTER III. Then Felicite sang the " Ave Maria." bringing rare melody from the little organ, and the old dame retreated to the kitchen, followed by the older sisters. The song stopped, and the young man was bending over her, imploring her to answer his question of the day before. She parried his importunings skilfully, and he soon found himself trying to reconcile to her the teachings of Luther with those of St. Ignatius. "There is but one heaven, dearest," he said fondly. as THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME P.nd aJhc^^ ' **"" """y '»»• you. mon to him a!IJt7toTL ."**!"'*"' tod™" her there came . iL^f T"' '""' "' *« """"'"t came «.tl^ dow^^in Z" ^° *' '""""^ holding Xft . ^^ •". counting her bead, and «mith.lho li^*frfJ^",»»P«««- the black- earden. MKnToZl^-j"^*^ ■" '«>" the ^ faUen. LoSring"°Vr„^"i*7t "" '"" <»"ld see by the fiJu«^f i k ''»''"'««'. they «« old appf. t4 ?a,7;o,"t^r.:d'*"";"«^ *« P.ng bloo™, of pink anTS'lt" tiTl' '" '."1: p.^tedn;^r,r;:;'Csr:j:r-''-™ va.'?;tr.o"°^r r^-" *"--« - ■•"tem-pted. B« 74^,rn!»! r»f *u answered the old dame f„ 'hr?*'."""""™''" •me tor her daughter. Her THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME beady black eyes shone as she spoke with a fire which he did not understand. It perplexed and annoyed him. The village was quiet and deserted as he walked along its unpaved streets, where little pools of water stood, brown and aggressive, at every step. The perfume of trees and flowers was intensified, and the effect of his outer and inner experience was a night of doubt, unhappiness and evil dreams. Morning broke clear and cool. There was an early marriage, and the merry party laughed and talked under the window* of the manor-house for a few minutes after the ceremony. How happy, how innocent, how trustful they looked. He believed that he would be willing to live among such a people all his life if Felicite should prefer it He would tell her so and plead his cause with all the earnestness of which he was capable. With this determination he went down to break- fast, to find Father Loiselle as suave and inscrut- able as usual, and in the act of perusing a little note, which he placed beneath his plate. " Let me serve thee to a fine bass, my dear boy," he said ; " Pierre caught some before daylight this morning. I have some news," he went on, seriously, but with no glance at Leonard, " 'vhich gives me both pai and pleasure. We have lost our little organist She has decided to join the Grey Nuns. Perhaps, God knows, she has saved herself much trouble by this unexpected course." THE UTTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME but I f J M it w^^ST''*"" *• "^i «"" '•«. dn>P at any toe Vn.?^^ ^"^ "^^ '""* "•We to .heUrcrtt.rs:,'';!';::^:" "^''^ «"«' •mes.-n.ere qulbbte P«* .rK" »»"/ dividing fine n,en amone tou »?° ^™ """J'' ""'"y dispute." "^ y°u.-glonou. minds, beyond Tlie good man lapsed into sil^.... .1. concluded wiA „„„!^ ^^ '^ *» "eal wa, elle started off to c«e f„ J^ .*" ^^ ^'•- and the flock und« CpWtaa,'"^ ^' *"" °"='"'^- Leonard walked «„m? "'"'strations, while "«^ge. He IsS^'fJ" '*V «o»a«Js Felicitrt fence'in.ot^„l",t:LTe V ** Jay prostrate. In k;. • ^ '*** °^^ cross it violent^td felt a ;S1VT^ "« '""'«' •"d w^ught among Xwti'td'"*"™^" over which the old dame ^ZZtr-^- restore order with a "pioche." °°P'"» »^"8 to " Where is Felicite ?" he asked t™.,. • . " My daughter," exdaimri A. T"""'^- much gesticulation. "Z^a^h;" r""" *■* home forever Sh. h. '^ daughter has left her di^ctionsZa dlL'tn^r- """" ^*" ^-"'•' " Then she has already gone ! " 25 THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME He stopped her volubility Impatiently, and turned to ga She bowed him out of the garden with an »lr of a duchesi,— past the sweet herbs and the opening roses, and her parting " Pardon, monsieur,* rankled in his heart for many a day, as did also the gleam of ugly satisfaction in her beady eyes. He parted, too, somewhat constrainedly, with the good father later in the day, thanking him encour- agingly for his courteous Invitation to repeat his visit at no disUnt day. But he knew well In his heart that nothing on eacjth could ever induce him to return again to St Jerome. • Leonard Channiug is not what the world would call a fickle man, but there is a young girl now in his native city who wears his engagement ring, and they are very fond of each other. One evening he took her to the opera, to see '* Faust" " Why, Leonard," she said at its close, " I never saw you so absorbed in anything. Your face has had a really rapt look. I believe that you have fallen in love with Margaretta." - But she has gone to heaven, dear," he answered, " so that you cannot be jealous of her. The wretch who won her soul,— he has the debt to pay now. I wonder how he feels." "You are making a real thing of it," she cried lightly. " It is one of those mysteries," he rejoined, "which haunts one. The worid is full of them." 26 il THE LITTLE ORGAmST OF ST. JEROME thinking of on. whT^L?"' '»•""•''»•« him. * ""* "*"'•" wlio rade betide »«d n«ht, ,„d had w^JThft^?"*"'?^ 'n the •elf-m.u„ci,tion • thaHf j. I !**" '^ '»« "d jke good cu,.;h.d i*^^'«»^ tJ:''.r»''« from all her sins, even th.!^ ''. "**" »<>«>l»ed U-t befo,e the m^nX T-T.""'" ""*•• "" l«ft her home an" W kta^li"; V""™^ "» ""d " It needed that^e „ "^ '^ ^ 'o™'' ~k«^ fall." d,e hafmul^d^,'^ "' '^^'^ '"""W of my duty toi^~tf"r"'y- " to remind me 'Amfacain ." "^ °' "J' "■» 'n loving .„ ^^^^t'ZZ'T"' '^'■" •"<' "" happily through the sS^t ffT •'";.'?'' *"''««' By chance thL ,t^3' ? , T "^ '"^"'■'= «««• and wc^standLgr^e chaolfJ"^ ^'"""^^ man suspected where they ^^'^, ?« >"'""'« sat before the orean n?i^ One of the Sisters the music fortl^^/fe'" ' masterly style, «oay. The throbs of the almost 27 in *■ THE LITTLE ORGANIST OF ST. JEROME inflpired music ftlrred with inexplicable power young Chtnning't breast. "Who is it?" he said, breathlessly, catching an attendant by her grey cape, as she passed him, and pointing to the player. " It is Sister Cecilia," she answered, wondering at his vehemence. The music stopped, and the nun on the organ- bench turned to descend from the loft. He saw her face plainly, — ^her seren& beautiful face. " Come," he said hurnedly to his bride, and they hastened out of the building. ''How beautifully she played," said the uncon- scious girl beside him, a little obtusr>Iy h se<;med to Leonard Channing. " But how you started when you saw her, Leonard I Had you ever seen her before?" "I — I think I had," he stammered, under the influence of an embarrassment she could not under- stand. ** I think she used to be the little oi^nist of St Jerome." But Felicite had not seen him, and the calm current of her holy life had known no ripple. 38 A Brown Study. iJJirir' f *' *"«• *'«' «»'<» •■ >t have oem more than fourteen, tossed back h L^l brown curls, and running her fin«« thr^T^h^Tj suggested .. Take me to'the l^^g^s S' ' It w,ll cometo thatsome day. Loiuse^t^rned A BROWN STUDY ill i the eldest, bitterly, and then turning to the silent sister, who had been sitting in quiet meditation, she asked, " Hast thou no solution for this problem, most thoughtful Christie ? " The girl started, hesitated, and said : *' I was thinking, girls, what slaves we are to fashion and to the conventionalities. Here I have been following the beaten track of music-teaching, walking miles of sidewalk for a pupil at two dollars a month, and not able to earn enoAgh to keep myself in respect- able clothing. Louise, with her deft fingers, has loaded down a table with pretty but unsold goods at the Woman's Exchange, and Marta's sales of Christmas cards and other art work do not remun- erate her for the outlay of paint, the time spent, and then the worry, the strained eyes that are already banning to suffer with such close applica- tion. My poor Marta ! " Silence fell on the group. It was early evening, and, to save expense, no lamps were lighted as they talked. " It seems strange," b^an Marta, at length, "that we got no word of father's ship. Mother says that it has often been as long, but she never before felt the lack of money. The failure of the- Ex- change Bank has swept away all the savings that were kept there for rainy days. I have no orders, Christie has only eight dollars a month '^oming in, and Louise has had to leave school. We must look 30 A BROWN STUDY '■' '^''^»*«^y ''n the face and see if fK • ^^y of earning money th«„^ *'''' '" "° °^«r far. We cannotTo out and ^'' ^' ^^"" *"«^ ^ must earn money togthtt'' "'°'^^' ^"*^ ^« for that is what L n^e^s ^^Ttl^f ^ "^""^'^-^ food. Then Christie sdoW*» . « c" dollars a lesson f^'^'o^e of tf" ^^"'"° ^^^^ *-o of the houses wher'l teL^thY^""^ '^'''^ '" °"- I listened one day when w.v ^°""^^'" ^'^"^^^n. was surprised to ll^„ K ""'"'"^ ^" *he hall, and earned. G.rls/urL tV""^ '^'^ '"^-J' wa^ washerwoman." ^ "^ '° ^^^^^ »'' "P and turn " Are you crazy? " aslr*.,! *u " I should soon be Ultl^ *''°"'*"' «««»• '° what I suggifS^r '/'"'""' ""'yagn* "And to begi °^i ^ t M "^«7 » I'We timidly. James Street--''o»« on m«h. buy woollen aeTorfuffsTr/"" '»»"'»« Lo" knits ; so I took a laml •' *"*= *»™' ""tts t*" young men^^^Ti^i;'"''"'' *""' ' ^*«i remarked that his s^d IT ** •^''"•- 0"« out a single button onl,^ ^" *"' """o *■«>. The other laughing^ ^Z^ >' '""°* " e"'* n»ke a iaio„ g^ „^T''!l" «»» enough to 3 e """ed. without waiting for a 1^; -■ Bin M ill, iii - \. A BROWN STUDY competence, to have to sew on his buttons before he could stait for church, and added, ' Why don't some of these girls that talk about woman's sphere, and the avenues of employment open for them, start a first-class laundry, where washing, ironing and mending can be carried on to such perfection as to be classed among the fine arts ? ' ' But, my dear fellow,' drawled the other, ' it lowers them in the social scale, don't you see? A man can dance with those girls who dabble'in paint or literature or any of the arts and sciences, but he could not come down to dancing attendance on his washer- woman.' ' Elevate the business,' said the other one hotly ; and just then Mrs. Muldoon came in, and, Lou, she ordered three pairs of mitts for her boys. Some- thing useful sells best, you see. " Now, let us start a laundry. We can't go out into society, anyway, and we must have money. We have good stationary tubs, thanks to father, and an out-kitchen that is comfortable at all sea- sons. I have money enough to buy a box of soap and a steam washer. We will not tell mother till she is stronger, but Marta shall write and cause to be printed a few cards, stating that we wash, iron and mend gentlemen's underwear at reasonable terms. Marta is a splendid clear starcher, and likes ironing best. You know you always pleased father, dear, and he was very particular. I will undertake the washing. Our garden gives plenty of space for drying clothes, and Louise can put her fancy 3a V A BROWN STUDY ifi'e^'e^"^???^"^'^ *"' darning whatever IS needed. The buttons must be all in order before the garment is sent home. I will eetl Z. r . buttons to begin with" ' ^'"&«^*a box of pearl aZ^"" ^^"u"^' '^"^ ^°"*^ 'P^^^ing there was almost an enthusiasm in her ton^and aftrrii^^ Sed t'"?r ^° ''''' ^"^ -e^ns, thetmp : frfedl f ^'''' ''"' °" ^" ^'^ °^ cheerfulneTs^nd w"k t^e^hTdr " ^^T^^'^--d "P the different bS-ellt^H . """P'°^^^ ^^'''^ ^hen twilight befell, and went upstairs to spend the evening in their mother's room, after carefully closl^ th^ dampers to save fuel anri mob- 7 *^^°^'"S the on y mate on a coa,ti„gves«I ; but forma„~ before our story opens he had been caouta rf » merchant ship, and of late years hLj , vovamn f« »» J-. ' "*'' made lone voyages to Mediterranean ports. It was n„„ .: months since he had sailed awav T,f,™T T f -"• "-f- t»at length of Ler'histltLd llT" 1r ^'" "'"" P-'"' on, and no lor^ came from h.n, ; and then the bank^s fail"°e7„d ebb and a ^f '"" ''°"^'" «""-" ' " » ■- saved ,„?r r?T'.. ''"""S bWs planned and fror^he^ anTf^'"*". 'V""' """"^ '"eir fi^ rom her and from each other But a week from A BROWN STUDY 1 ! I II the time the story opens the cards were printed and sent to the principal boarding-houses in the city by post And when Christie called at Mrs. Muldoon's with Lou's well-knitted mitts, she was rewarded by an order for all the washing of the boarders, while some of the young men promised to speak of the new venture to their friends. It was so neat and unique in its way, this little piece of pasteboard, that one was forced to read and remember it. GENTLEMEN'S UNDERWEAR WASHED, IRONED AND MENDED, AT BROWN COTTAGE, BLANK STREET. FINE LINEN A SPECIALTY. WOOLLENS WASHED WITHOUT SHRINKAGE. Kitty O'Keene, whose boy was hired to fetch and carry the clothes, called at the cottage and asked for work. " Sure and it's meself can wash for yez half or a whole day, ma'am, and Ted can hang out the clothes " ; and as the girls knew her to be hon- est and poor, they engaged her services for half a day during the first three days of the week. The work progressed without any confusion, and when sent home was promptly paid for, each article being specified in the printed bill, which was enclosed in an envelope and neatly addressed. And so the weeks passed in prosperous labor, till Kitty O'Keene had to work every day and all day of the first five in the week to get the washing done. A patent clothes drying machine was put up in the yard, 34 A BROWN STUDY mwy a we«y hour """•"' '**»«' <** «™w to pie™ a 3^ ^ '^ *" "-T-ning an " pierce a good and manlv heart ii«j«« - h'« «n.s«0'a wad.er-woman'. Ml ^,TL^ pened that Fr»rf Vor, /- „. . ' " °*P* had become farina ^.tytte^f"'^ .""*«• raanship and unwonted rZ,IS "'f"' «""«« P™- and bundle sent Tom, T^ "*""'«' °'' "^th bill sister Ma,;.^ whU ' *• "^ .°"' "'"'"e *"«" W' can, he sudde^l7h„dLTe? vT " ""''' '""" ioewu without'i:,'::ii%'^,''r-;k-,wa,h. wonder at «,ything that bJLr^alf "°J read without suspicion : * *"'' Mr. Vau Coil, ^'' **• ''• * BaowH, D». Sue shirts, ditto . . Eight collars, washed and'ironed * * Six handkerchieft, ditto .T .' ' Received payment, 35 11 ! I 1 II !ii A BROWN STUDY " I don't know why I should care about those girls, Margery, but I can't help thinking I have had something to do with this business. " I was talking to Tom Levers one day about washing, and I said a lot of nonsense about the " social scale " and all that sort of thing, while he, like a sensible fellow, wished some of the girls who were wanting a sphere would turn to and mend our socks as well as embroider smoking caps for us. I happened to look up, and a young girl with a wistful look on her pretfy but tired face was listen- ing with a strained air to our remarks. I found out afterwards that she was a Miss Brown, and in a week they sent one of their cards to the boarding- house ; but I have never seen any of the washer- ladies.' "Don't be a goose, Fred," laughed the young girl. " Call things by their right name, and what more noble than a • perfect woman.' I can't get it ouf of my head somehow that I know one of those girls. Of course there are lots of Browns ; but my Christie would grace a wash-tub or a Fifth Avenue drawing-room equally well— and she was consid- ered a musical prodigy at school. Grace Lane can tell me if my suspicions are correct I must see my sweet Christie while I a i in town." And so it came to pass that two days afterwards two very stylish girls called at Brown Cottage and asked for Christie. Of course the meeting was 36 ill A BROWN STUDY >«e to leavt *"' ■""="«»»> «<» »oon «cept Mis, W^ '"^. '"^ °f y"" »"« I cannot '^'Wei or «ther feT^^-Vr T i" «"« where our money wa^T„v^ - ■ '^'' *"'«' our mother fell ill 7Z "Tf ' *' '°* »" • *« till yesterday hA" tl*"^ "° """^ <■"■» fether noti.oJtrour^mo'rt: '^rT"''-,'"'' •*- "well a, we could 7^^ tl ^ZtTr Then we ,et up . laundor. and s^e ,hl„ ^ prospered financial^ .k t '"" we have not tdl moM L :!S "°' '~""J'- We did yest^xiay. ^^sSe t ^ "^ „°' *■**" ""' Then Mamry tookhZT ^T- ' '^ ""«" P«po«.IsorsoJ!^ H • **"• ''"''"^ '» 1' "d the visitor suvri ;„ T ^"" "bandoned. Misery steppL,' o^on , *^X^ *" -"^hty taking off h« ha. =nj .u "' """<' hefoie "ceived'u^tl^JT "°" " "~ «""<»"'•. E.'^," """ ^""^ Blank Su.«.fcr .„„.,« MxKony Vak Corr.' Ml iiii A BkOWN STUDY And when the pleasant evening was over to the w J^". T^J'""'"'' ^^^^'^'^ Uer cX and was introduced to them all, and expressed his &''i\"l'*^"^ ''*' acquaintance of his sister's friend But through Christie's mind came the con- v«^tion she had heard, and this young man hTd said. w,th a particular sneer, "He could not come An7i° rT'?-^ attendance on his washer-woman." And so Chnstie looked at his handsome face, in which admiration of h^lf was plainly discemiWe, and felt a gentle disdain for a man who put such 'ffirf v"""'!l"^'^''' ^^^" -^"« P^~-ntly M ' K.?" u''^"^' '*'*"' '° ^'' washer-woman Meanwhile the laundry flourished. The girls hired an adjacent shed, and Kitty O'Keene brought in, and. cheered by their father's letters, though he could not speak definitely of his return, they worked on in peace and hopeful confidence, keei^ ng from the shipwrecked breadwinner all money troubles that might add to his anxiety ^ By and by around the little Brown house came a change of nature's own devising. The crocus and snowdrop peeped out of the brown earth, and the birds returned from the south to the spicy buds of ^n Th' Jf't.r^^^"' ^"^ ^""^ their morning F«d. but his friend Tom Levers, called often at the cottage to carry some delicacy to the invalid or 38 i A BROWN STUDY h^ to he^ .he whole ,,00.. Hi, only comment W'll take care of you now." But Chriitle in . conversation «»n after, showed him ther^nl^^r-J t^^cliif "!, "r ' '"'"'"«' «""'- -^ to their credit, and reluctantly, yet with a «.n^ «f tain did not interfere with their work. That wL oTZr '^°- ^'^ '^""^'y '^^ grown toTarg" proport^ns now. and there are six needy JomZ employed with Kitty O'Keene wh« .•- r Marta is to be married fnT t '^°''<^«'°roan- « 10 DC married to Tom Levers, but retains bngh,«. «,e home of Fred Van Coit in a di,um woman Lrr' •'""'' *°"' *» P"»«" *"l>er. woman , and when m earnest tones he oleadert t,.-. attendance on the washer-woman ? » I caniof tel all the art, he used to overeome her obie^on, b». tomy mind d.e had always iilced hr^m' Jhat^fi^tdaywhensheheaMhimspeaicatM: Louise still dam, and mends and sews on th. buttons, but she intends to take a, h^ltnert • rpht'^n^ V""! "-P""" «■•" "^^« "o l!v^«h^ ^" dependent on her needle for her ".vehhood. Thework ha, always run smoothly. «^ «>9 A BROWN STUDY help have no cause for complaint, are well paid, and take an Interest In their several departments, and T'uu u Z^*!:. ^~^ **" '■""y ^<^ovtrcd her h«lth. she is able to assist in the household duties and to appreciate better her daughters' heroic con- duct and praiseworthy efforts to keep the wolf from the door. Truly " whatsoever thy hands find to do, do It with thy might" 1 Kitchen Sunshine. and whethar i^ "* d'scontcnted animals, J_tt^d«.t of the cy and ft, j.^^^ ^^ ^ ~'ft°^^ T".*"*^ '■*'-*• 'Me deddedly. ^™.i1 <>f "ol»tion of „ul « well « body Organize , dub? Start a musical «^^y Would anyone know what it means ? WhTiSl! %, I told Miss Sandem you SL ^^l^T- t':^ n'sr-r -^^ "'^ sro?:,^:?: work that leaves no Ume for culture I don? W.eve any woman ever worked hard* to or^t becoming a clod th«, I have donTl^ a^J young woman, and ought to have bee;:^^'^?!^* 41 m KITCHEN SUNSHINE one, but the environment tells, and George Herbert nevw tried, for all his preaching, to 'make drude- try divine.' " * "I've lived here over thirty years." she continued, looking at the girl who constituted her sole audi- ence in the little back parlor, -and I have yet to »ee the man or woman willing to come back to fiurn life after they hdvc left it They come and build cottages, and arrive and leave with the birds but never take up the old round of duties. I do not think it is bjcause the work is hard, but the smallness. the isolation, the self-sacrifice it implies." "Well, Aunt Mardia." said Uie giri, " I intend to marry a farmer, and show what an advanced woman can da" The elder woman replied with a bitter laugh. "If you mean Cyril Howe, you have stubborn stuff to deal with. It will take mure tiian your college education to grapple witii his iron will— and you are such a visionaiy, dear I " " I'd ratfier be a viMonary," said the giri, lifting her soft jrey eyes, in which shone a light of trutii and courage, -rather be anytiiing than the sordid, grasping men and women who live in one rut, and think no otiier can hold tiieir cart-wheeL I don't mean you and Uncle Dick, for you are so generous, and everyone knows you always have had your own way in your pretty home. Uncle Dick always says. 'Just as your Aunt Martha wants.' about everytiiing." 43 KITCHEN SUNSHINE ^p»e our .ue^^i:.';^:;'^^^^ •;,'! .T^"'l "«. !>«;"«» «nd grease their boots ? " Why.- said Dorothy Smith, "ni have a »o™ - A^d 'r *"PL"<' have i .ZtV "^ Ma4. "ext^t^to^ifi """ °' "•" ""^ A«»t over thirty years ago-whcn I was Cg ^'1 ^mc p^u„3. one day i„ late autuma xCwrre of the dairson sort, and grew in the hollow "^Dkk was very fond of them, and I tried to be ouS careful to have them well out ..n tu ^ few flies in fK« 1,* u T ^ "P* ^^^^ ^ere a tew flies in the kitchen, but a cold north wind was blowing in. so I had to shut the door. JunZi 43 KITCHEN SUNSHINE X- was thinking perhaps a fly would get Into the syrup, Dick came through for the milk pails. I didn't mind much, though the floor was just washed, and he could as easily have gone around through the wood shed. He left muddy marks at every step, but I said in a pleasant, appealing way, •Couldn't half this kitchen door be glass, and then I could see better on the stove ? ' • Why, yes,' he said, 'you can have it all glass if you like, my dear,' and never mentioned it afterwards. In the years that have followed we have had a glass plant- room added to the south end of the house, and made many improvements, but I still have to open the door to see on the stove, or grope about as best I can when it is cold. But I have plenty of things I do not need, and so a few years ago, when [they were putting up a garden summer-house, I said, 'Take measurements and put in a glass half in the kitchen door.' The boys were of that interesting age when they begin to feel com- petent to direct their parents, and they made as many objections as though it would spoil the farm, till I was glad to say, ' Never mind, I don't care about it.' But I do not wonder that farmers cannot get farmers' daughters to marry them. Left alone all day, with a tired, sleepy man at night who only wants his newspaper to snooze on the lounge, a woman has a chance to think, and to regret, too, when she is belittled in every mortal way." 44 KITCHEN SUNSHINE " O, Aunt Martha." M Dorothy, •• I ,„ rtoeked to hear you talk ! It i, „ot fair to the bo^~J^ *;M^.!» world of you. and to- to ^v^ you^ town and broueht me home a silklL ^me 6ncy f™.t. apd a bra« teakettle-one of the mZ that stands m the parlor and has to be heated by a spmt lamp, when our kitchen fire is always goine h"dy. It was a nice bit of furniture, to be ^re but all the while my heart was in reWlion Z"i the door, and I found out that men folk, want us ortnL.'"?f '"^ '*' ■«•• """ «<> "ho the" ^mon* f ypu want to get along. Dorothy, you ^ong alon^ , „•„ „,„_^^.„ „„„ j »= toWnT^r- ^"?"«»"»"gg«t it yourself but bring him aror . to suggest it for you." "ifs?LS^fc*^L "i." ^"^y- h»'f '" tears ; mmd of her owa I should just have bought that door and got a carpenter to put it in " "tile°^^5 ?• ■'"'! '^■''•" '»■■'' Aunt Martha; ^e h„«ss always breaks when the team pulls' A j^ has passed since Dorothy Smith became Mrs. Howe, and set the neighbors talking by her 45 KITCHEN SUNSHINE X' .d«ne«l uk». Her fi« innovation w« .n after- noon ,n; for it w*i ^^m understood that tte e^'X""" '\^ '""'"' *" ""-"natll the"«k "'"'""'""'f the day, and any day of w^''*k„T' T" ""• ^y" "°'™'» «"«™oon. ^tL T" "^f ""^ "**'• ""ehbora met and talked pleasantly, though ri,e never encourag^ f"'P-jP™» »"d flowe« were on the tableT^ a tew good book, that were Dorothy's o«! ^ returned and so encouraging a taste for good they were at liberty, and men dropped in to discus, pontics and their method of work ,h.?n"'"!w'^"' °" *"' O"" ''ay in early spring ^^«*rS'"T^ She was looking «.n ^d shed at the side of her kitchen, in whid. was stored uselew lumber. She had often askedl^ have It removed, and Cyril had said, ■• Well, take it down yourself," but nothing further ^as done Sl^ glow" S"t^l*sl?°" "^ ■"?■-" •» *« ^^-^ glow of the setting sun. the daylight that she She kept no help, and this dull kitchen w« a ctre^^r*T "■"'?'" ^^ "^"^^ ^^ came along that morning, when the air was full 46 KITCHEN SUNSHINE ttL^T^ °' "» "*"'"8 bud. : the PO.U a»dlK»rd5 were removed, ud pOed neatly S othertan.be, in the y«d. He Sd ju^d^^!! WW stern and cold as he asked : "Whose orders are thcMe? wii««. u done with the shed r^ " """ J"™ UkeT'n: *^*'"''" 1^'' °°"'*>'' "yo" told me to ft to^e^w'^'-.r' ' "-'y 8°* Somen to do It iMtead. We really needed more light in the ^. and the g„,„nd will make a^Wt of^ Nothing more was said, but in the morning &n,«s returned «d replaced thebuildingr^ " Bu^aU L, ^ ^'r-" »« »«id. to hi, (Kends. Jmi« ^l""" "" ■"""« "'y*'"K to do with wimmen-takin any stock in their orden" It was soon learned in the villam th.> «»_ Ms^t c,?^™ "" "'"i"'' ««» «dth Aunt c^^ ^S'r"™"""". «««".• interests fa Z^^- u ^ "*" ■"' "<»* *<>'<* ragouts or ^ d«h.s prepared fa that kitchen CtoJ ow" Porkand cabbage, and plenty of good SCUD we« her „,de« to the "help^ «d the^illa^K i I KtTCHEN SUNSHINE bread took the place of her delicious loaves, of which Cyril was so fond. But no word of discord passed between the husband and wife. Dorothy was one of the natures that could smile even when wounded, and one of her mottos was, " It is better to sacrifice than to regret" So she endeavoured to shut out the selfish feeling and make excuses in her mind for her husband, whom she dearly loved. A little later came the elections, and Cyril Howe was quite proud of his nomination for the office of Mayor. He set his heart on being elected, and his friends had no doubts on the subject But when the day came, and the vote was taken, his defeat was overwhelming. Late at night, before returning home, he chanced to pass along a side street of the village, and his own name, spoken in the well-known tones of Carpenter Somers, arrested his attention. " He's the dourest man I ever did a job of work for, and the wimmen fixed him off good. I tell you it was fine. Mrs. Howe don't know nothing at all about it, but Aunt Martha and twenty-eight other wimmin, they just qualified to vote, an' marched right up to the polls. They was quiet as mice, but they meant business, and didn't want no mayor as could treat me an' his wife as if we %irere dirt under his leet She never said anything to a livin' soul, but he can't muzzle me, an' it's just prime how the wimmen ousted him. He'll learn." 48 KITCHEN SUNSHINE Mr. Howe had learned .11 he WMfarf ^ 1. the coK of hi, defeat-!, wJTS^ «? know of "P«t He opi^^T dl^ !5"~'k o" • new She came .Uen'^Tow Jdf ^m ^*' *" '"°"«^ 6ce, but wa, .till m^jT^""' •»•» Ws white 2>-* He stopped to C^ft l*^/"""""* ■>«««• She knew he hirf f^.L ""' '™'"ne «|fd .«•«. »»e »«, tt^htt'^'^"- «-«- Dol^^-h^XM^'^^i-.'^^can.pai^. at I've seen l^^ -^^^ V>^- «one, wndow. long enough. wL"* '"»"'» .'" *«» ««««1> to move at . Z" n^" ' P"** «« ««Pted the sitiBH,>,, . -.u *''«»« Dorothy "w glass plant hou» that^,?"** "' *« »ayor-, residence if he^^irT" '^ "^ «>e •-fore .-or .iter ^ drf«t J^,""^' "'^'^W ^^rreX'^ir^r.^l.K in disguise, for Uncle Dfe^heaToTr'*? "^ put on his thinking cap lif f ** '^' and -^-e drove. unt^^^^--^- that ™e •set miiha I i KITCHEN SUNSHINE new conservatory, telling her he would call for her in the evening. It was late when he managed to get around, and later still when they reached home. But in the morning when Aunt Martha went out to get the breakfast there was a strange new light over the stove, and following the rays of the sun- shine she saw the evidence of new carpentering. The upper half of the door was glass ! A sheet of paper pinned to the sash bore the motto, "Better Ute than never," and Aunt Martha sank into the nearest chair just as Uncle Dick and the boys came in. There were tears of pleasure in her eyes as she remarked, " Now I shall see if any flies get in the jam." 1 ! A Silver Wedding. "•"to the g^t 1^,: '^ *°^ " I went wh«lled „d trilled « aW^h," r *" "d not in giving p^'tTS^d*'-'"^''"' J didn't see anything ft.- fu P°**' »y- ti^'the e«U,,,oHeCt^s^ 1° '"'P *" ■»•"- "P- " Ugh I" 1 ild l* ? *■• *^ «° «• them y™ ««." «d thTl ^f • r T "• «" be sure Mild«d tod, h^fttT"' ■"'» "» hou- and sent °« oldest girl, ^T^u^^T''^ ^>««*by, "Id Prudence thT, ^'' *■"" ' went in «<»*• I did not Kf r r ''""«'''8 " "« for I did not wamt ap^'t^ " "f »»« '", "y day in particalar F^?^ "" """ '« *« the last slTytL S^ ""'* '^' J""" f"" for yea" of our mamed life we had ,^:>t. A SILVER WEDDING not spoken to each other, not since little Paul was a baby, and he was now a tall boy in the fourth reader at school It isn't a long story, and it all went through my head that morning as I cut the pie plant ready for the canning and stood over the stove in the heat, putting it up and setting it away in the dark closet ready for the winter. There was never a kinder man than Stephen ; he was gentle and mindful of everything, and a good provider. He had the fineft farm on the country side, and he and I had worked hard till it was our own, and out of debt That was when Prudence was a baby— we had three girls first, and then it seemed as if our happiness was complete when Paul was bom. I said he was to be "an apostle" when I gave him that name, but Stephen laughed and said it was more likely he would be a good farmer, and that would be best for him, for my guid man had a way of speaking lightly of the professions, and saying that there were too many now-a-days, like that fel- low in the Bible, who owned to his laziness when he said he could not dig. Then I thought of all these things as I cut up the pic plant, and counted how old he was when the blight came over my life. Married at eighteen, and twenty-five years mar- ried—it is easily counted— and I went out into the orchard where the trees had but lately been blos- soming, and as I walked there lay on the ground thousands of dead blossoms that had just turned 53 A SILVER WEDDING ch««*|„o„,v,-,w",P^ '•> «h« Methodic *«. .nd. though S^n":^*'.";'!?"" f M«ho. >>• new tried to chuuT J^ ! P^byteiun elder, "» gfrb often w™t^'"hLP'««/fr«'''R but •lone, or with .ny 07^. • ^ '*^ "« *o «o *oo ne« the «Se L ™- ?*'"*^ *" *« *« distMce. ^"—.^""'^"'J^e'boutthe -•PPed into tJe^^^^if^'^' Sunday, „d the,.' «*o-l^eye$on H. OMdjomest man I had «ave out the hyni„_ ^' »°°»«how, when he "^••iwyaoul, arise, Shake offthy guilty fears." ^« t'JZT'^ -«r 7 -oud and dear, the preacher'3 voice oLin . ™^ * *"'' ' *««» fa the moming^^ «^fa2T*"* '"• T"" «" not «y veo^ „„erltonTTui'™'?'»«''ow I did funking of his sermon a^di,i*« '°""^- ' *» • pand husband sTe wom^n ',?"*' "«' "h't »oon found out he" « 7^, i " ^ ''" " »" e was a bachelor, and all the girls A SILVER WEDDING were peeking «»d ]««»?««« " ,**\P^t^HtS^ the ev«ilng I went out m uiiial. after putting U^ Paul to WJeaving Stephen with the othe^^^^^ dren. They had no service in his church at ni^t, and he did not care to go to mine. It^ Mr. Nairn again, and as I went in he was reading the hymn— •* Give me the wingt of fcitb, to rise Wthin the veil end see The laif t« above, how great their joys, How bfifht their gloriee be." It was beautiful to hear Ws rich, deep voice, and I enjoyed it as I would a beautiful picture, or grand music, or tiie sunrise over tiie hills, and as he ^i.^ I seemed to feel rested and better for his Words, till suddenly 1 heard tiie rain pattering on I^'^'ndows, and I remember^l tiiat I had «i my best bonnet, witii a green feather and a r«i ^ m it, and no umbrella. But I tried to shake off my anxiety and attend to tiie sermon, and when we Lme iut I stood in tiie PO'ch a momen^and Sen my dass-leader came up and introduced the preach^ to me, adding, "he goes your way, for he sC^at til. very next house by tiie roadside, at Mr'llelson's. and-," but before ^e could say any more tiie rich voice of Mr. Nairn added : Allow me to offer half of this large umbrella at your ser- "^ as I see you have none." I didn't like to go wiU him. for Jane Nelson is such a Ulker. and I S4 A SILVER WEDDING knew die w»8 expecting to walk with him ; but I th«Wht of my bonnet, and took hit arm and walked with him along the board sidewalk to our gate, when he escorted me to the door, and said "good ll^u M^^^^ "^"•^"•^ ^"^^ ' thought Stephen did not look extra pleased when I told -Ih *^"' ^ ^T. l"^ ^ •"y »«^ <•«>« Wm. and when I added, -he is such a noble handsome man. I «iw a look in his eyes that might have "^ "/J^ I had had the least suspicion, or been guilty. After that it was a regular custom for the PJ«u:her to walk with me from church, sometimes alon^ and often witi, others. He was newly ap. b^^ *1 • »tranger among us. but he soon became a friend, and was beloved by young and Jt'i^f^'^u"^"^."^ '**~^" »"*°«*<^i» other's that before he came. So the winter wore away and the spring came again, but my home happiness was gone, and insensibly I became aware of a great change m Stephen. He was gloomy. mon^efaTd scarcely spoke, except when questioned ; but I could not assign any reason for his conduct, and only remembered tiiat as a boy his disposition was suUen. Uiough he never before displayed it to me. I began to enjoy the visits of Mr. Nairn veiy much and It p eased me to s<.e tiie interest he took in tiie httie girls, giving tiiem book^ and telling them little 55 A SILVER WEDDING bits ol knowledge tlut they loved to listen ta One day in Mimnier he called with a bunch of honey- nickle in hit hand, and a root of the plant that he teceived from a friend. " Plant it up beside your porch,*' he said, ** I have often thought what an im- provement a vine would be." He was fond of flowers, and had given quite a number of people plants that he procured from a distant city, whither, rumor said, he went to see his lady-love, and I took it and thanked him without a thought of coming evil. When Steph^ came home for tea I told him all about it, with great glee, but the laugh died on my lips as I saw his face. ** Mary," he said, " if you plant that man's gift at my door 111 never speak to you agun until you root it up." I thought he was joking, and said so, till the harsh reality of his feelings were forced upon me. * Yes," he sneered, " the handsome, noble man takes all your thought from your husband, and walks and talks with you, leaving me out altc^fether." I argued and b^^;ed and told him how foolish he was to doubt me, who had felt so secure in his love as to be safe with any other man. I even went over a line of my old song, Douglass — " Now all men betide are to cse like shadows." for I cared for no other. But he jeered and said, yes, he knew he was a shadow compared with the 56 A SILVER WEDDING »»;»*»"• diWnt And tlK« th. devO look no., ""to" of me, Mid t went out and plutJd tt^ Stephen there wu no re.pon.e. I held up P,„| u, nowori. And then it e.me over me th.t he would «^ .nd^^ni""^ ' r' '"^ *• "-O-""" "d mirlT. . °^ '" """ e""^. *o"gl> I deter- n«n.d to w.it until he did .peak. Time p«.oJ^ •no I Visited his house and adored his wife. H« Ifc ^^^ * W» to the pure and the good. He«emedoknow intuitively that IhadsomeirMt grief, though he never knew what it was and th^ was no one but Uie children to tel Tf^ ^ jnyone was in the house Stephen talkeTlit^ though never to me, and I was just as c«efiS "«' to find him sullen and sour. -"Kraea So time passed on, and baby Paul mew to h. . strong, hearty boy, always busy and SlnlJ^i,' ing mmd that could not always be satisfied I made a point o. uking him with me alwav. tr. «v««ng meetings or singing practice as te ^I^ 57 * 1 A SILVER WEDDING older, and he became my comfort and confidant in many things. And as I thought these things out this anniversary day, the wild regret of my wilful- ness came over me, and I wished so much that the vine and my pride were uprooted t(^;ether. It must be noon, I thought, looking up as Paul came in the garden gate. He walked with a sort of stagger, and I went to meet him. " Father was in the mill, and — " I waited no longer, but turned from him and, seizing a spade, uprooted the vine at my feet Its flowews and Iminches clung to the porch, but I v/renched them off and trailed it after me as I ran toward the river. The mill was close by, and into the rushing water I hurled the vine. I loosed my hold of the honeysuckle as I ran to the open door ; and all the while Paul was following me and crying, while he asked, " What is the matter with mother ? " There was a man on the floor who had been caught in the mill and injured, but it was not Stephen, and I looked among the faces around but did not see him. Just then the door opened, and he came in with the doctor. I must have looked terrible, for I had lived through agony in those brief moments ; and then I spoke, whispering as I fell reeling into his arms, " It's in the river. Oh, if you had died I " And I knew no more till I was in my bed, and Stephen standing over me and asking me to forgive him and speak to him (Hice more. And then and there we learned the $« ■J I A SILVER WEDDING l^n tha we ought to have learned twenty.five ^Zr:^'' "^^ ^^"^* »"^ P"d« should nev^ enter the heart, and that if married people exo^Tto be happy they must trust each otheT I h2^ "« pure. It did not upeak well for a dutnutful husband ; «,d 30 I h.d nu«ed my «i^T^t ™tes. M. r ""* '""""'««« pot «d the «.toowe^tcg.tup.''i'„s^t':;^7i',2rw,ti a»phen beride me; and then he ,«pi^ ,^0 JS tte chor«. he «id. And when I^Zta^ m«n.ng I h«dly dared to look »tL^A.Z 7^ iv '' ^ ""^ "'"' «"Vr« i for, „ I ™ told afterward by my MildiSl, thU ^ .Z peddler pacing early in the evening^d tofeS^ went out «.d bought two beautifo, ^ ^""^ Md he had planted them and tied them up tolj porch .„ place of the vine It wa, „ thoughtfullJ him to tor to repair ihe wreck I had m«le^ to turn my thought, from it -WeTe^!^ 59 \\ A SILVER WEDDING must be crazy, thA," said Dorothy, •* when you rah off with the vine, and Paul came in to tell us that Peter Crandall was hurt and that pa had saved hha from being killed." And then I told the girls all I thought it best for them to know about our long quarrel, and I said it was all my fault. " You dear, blessed old ma," said Mildred, - how you have been abused ! " But I would not let her say that, and while we were talking some of the neighbors came in and began to praise Stephen's courage, and said I had a man to be proud of. And as we sat hand-in- hand that evening, jf told my lover-husband that he must never, never doubt me again ; and he vowed he never would, and that he trusted mc for time and for eternity. " I'm old enough now, " I said, and he answered, " You would still be young to me if you lived to be a hundred." And so the silver wedding brought me happiness ; but I never can smell the perfume of the fragrant honeysuckle but it recalls that time, and a sense of faintness comes over me ; for to die it was a snare that cost me dear, and will ever be associated with distrust and doubt Edwor's Wolf. for d.t, too muS:^«^^t^' "^P'" ^y W-g." Then. „ if inTolLtTr """ *" ■« w i«w Of .oyity L'^^ -" .^««°» r« queen u d»ld last wint«- Sk . ^ ""^ "• he he., d^Zl^^^t «° *<> ^'vai-g* an- good madder to^ p^Tef ^Ed™ T' "" '*' ju* like little baWt ^Lk- !"■ *" "y- "y- •entente rte looked as sad a. if IThl ^ l** personal lo.^ this tnistvF.^^fc r ^ '"'^^ « woman, who wTk^lS^,^* ?°f^'" *»*"• and w;nt Ce1„'^tht^*^'°r'«»»e«W»ni hushand, who-'b^fL^^-'J^ f "~ ««nlng. and seemed to look uL» i^ ''^ ~perior,ifnotthen.w.woZ ""^ "^^ " "» 6i ll EDWOR'S WOLF She set down the basket of unlaundried clothes fresh from the line, and hanging up her hat as she talked, proceeded to put on her travelling dress, which consisted of a print skirt covered with gay magento rosebuds on a purple ground. A faded homespun shawl and brown quilted hood com- pleted her costume, and with her sabot covering her broad feet, she was ready for the road. Every evening during the long spring twilight she had given me her lamentations on the death of the good Queen; we had indeed been a memorial service of two until the isbbject was threadbare, and she always finished with the radical ideas concerning the coming coronation. "I suppose Edwor is waiting," I said, " so you need not fold the clothes, he does not like to be in the dark alone." "En bein," she answered, "he good man, Edwor ; me no like you speke like dat, same him 'fraid ; mebbe me tell what for he come Uke that, me think you unstan' better." She took off her hood and sat down, drew the basket to her feet, and began to fold the ck>thes, flacking them in the air with unnecessary vigor to emphasize her sentences, and beating the towel fringes on the edge of the Uble to straighten them out. « Well, madame, four, five years ago me work for Mister Cherette— pick apples in hees orchard, me an' Pierre; you remember Pierre? dat's my boy, 63 EDWOR'S WOLF fun. You know Paul Dore? No> uT^ ? IK. He say him see tree big wodfi com" down ftZ ^tret-«ir"\'r, ^-^^^-^ uut me an Fieme— we lafT— aff— an' m«lf' f„« bat t^T^^T^" "'"■ ■» f^ "»»- "u. ne iraid to go out doors at nvht afl» *. Angdus at six o'clock. Him work in rtjT^ when „e aw.y_.„. eatch Sg^ ^•'^^ ■n hees «et-«d every week W^ ^^.^ down the mpids in hee. shallopift^ !S, ""T" ^en^ l-arg^t. toa «n^ „. w^^^^'.^' h.™ stop at home an' fid,, ,„. o,^ ,^ '?^ Piene very tired, big apples for winta- rZ. <•:•» le Fameuse, m^e ^Zy^T..rZ "t down under one tree for rest mT^. . »• d«. me say j„st for ft„:!:VJf ^* K^,?- come out an- eat your fader?- """^ ■*«««»«« • Jk^*" '**^ •"'' '•«■• "d •fter dat he sav X2e-t„ThitS!S'2k°'t£rr-- i i EDWOR'S WOLF asleep an* forgot make light,' but me no tink dat, and me call ' Edwor— Edwor ! ' and by-an'-by he open de door just one little bit, an* he say, • Vite quick ;' just de same he no breff left ; my but me cross, cross ; me take oflT le sabots an' go in, Edwor he scare— scare— never see man like dat— just same him daid. He tell me one big woolf run past an' get in woodshed, an' he run quick an' shut door, an' fasten latch wif one little piece of wood, an' me hear him bang, bang, on beside de house. " Edwor, he took grandpa's big ole gun, it all full russ— russ, you'^call dat? An' Pierre run for big axe outside woodshed door for kill him— poor boy, he not 'fraid, but him no very strong for fight dat woolf. *• Me go to the cupbord for one big knife, an' den me see one ole tin full of sul — sul — fure, you call dat? Edwor fix dat long time ago for kill some bees wif smoke till the daid, an' me tink mebbe the sulfure kill bees, it choke woolf. Him growl an' make big noise like break de bords, an' me put tin in de ole fnn an' put water in pan, an' me go out to side of dat woodshed, to one place where white hen she goes to lay she's aig. Me no wait for notin, put one match to sulfure and set le tin in de 'ole, wif pan of water outside for safe, an' me call Edwor, * Quick, quick ! bring bord an' put over dat place, an' one big stone after.' " By.'n'-by woolf get quiet, give one big coff-> 64 EDWOR'S WOLF Me look me husbin .„^J "' /"" '^ "•' ""'<»'■ «gh. one „i„„;X.'r.':.^1^^r- *"""»' »oni«n, Philomene m~. "/— Voure nnart yet, .n> me Uke bfe f^f..- u ,'' *^" »<> «« b~d oven-oven Zi^„'*f,J°' »* «*" 'n "« le woolf, „■ i, look liS „u " *" ?P '"• •"' poll 'aX^-n.e'Tel'^.Sr'"'"-'^-- two-th« hou«?X^A° '°°'* '•«' '«P for de fence, an> no .poke to anT^w: **•«««« trn -.' de «n.e afte/rL^Tf^'""' "ever So when me work far awavhTZ '°'' K""**- le Angelas he 6sten. SmL '°"«»"». «' before d«lop. ^"' »" door^ an go for me In the "fiene, Um daid now_K:_ i >. «"«s he Unk woolf 7o,rr ^ ''"^f—"' some- EDWOR'S WOLF "Bon soir, nuuUun— enough I me hope et no come to-night" And the disappears in the darlc- ness tying the hood and calling in musical tones of mutual r^usurance, - Edwor t Edwor I " 66 The FJorists Wife's Story. «KJ well up to I^bM^ fi'tT'^:'""'*' b" thq-'ve poor t«te fa deco-SinT- fcr « IT pfe «a tt. p,„kj«,d «„,et - WhM coIo, f, Zt «u«ea lor? White, pure white; we nemr <>» f«>gh of them fa winter. Te* wi kL^f ST dren busy ; their oa and m. k. T ."^ ** ''^• ,. ' ^^ P» «nuM^ .* McUne would uke 'em ^Th^ hJT^ u '*"^* mnA Um AtA 1 /^ ' ^ "® **■" »«ch taste • utn ne gave jer the monex, «nd the next wok ^««^gre.t wondering eye. ; they did Zk ,0 "Ifc^ «nd were named Dora and Tor. -rk •fcrt came firw told uattuH:^^^ ^•.'"' town ev^y week to UI«tLi^^ f^tj^J^ -^ *.K.S^,rt:'deai 'r rf ft • jr- fond of hi. a.p. X t?'J^":';^ c«. befo„ dark l"Z.kf:i'^4t th"^" .o«ti„.hech.ryou-«i„'l:J*';jf«^ THE FLORISTS WIFE'S STORY Don and all the had dona for her, and how tha navar tpant a cant on herself if she could help it, bot was 10 ealf-iacrificing. One day, lata in the •ummer, it wai very warm and she had her hat off and the little damp curU in rinss about her fore- head, when a tsU, fair young man came in and asked for a rosebud. I was busy and Cora selected it, and wlien I looked that way she had a pin and was fastening it in his button-hole. I didn't think anything about it at the time, but I begun to notice that he came every day that Cora came to us, and one day it was mhiing and he held his umbrella over her, and they got into the street-car together. Fm not one of the folks that think if young people look at each other they are dead in love. I believe there can be honest friendship between the sexes, leastwise I did believe it till this time, so I never thought till afterwards of these little attentions; but we little think what is going on under our own eyes and noses, if young folks are so inclined, and one cold morning when the trees were a-shedding their leaves I>ora came in with a wild questkming took in her beautiful eyes. •* Where's my sister ? " she asked ; and I told her she had left her basket the day bef fiw « th^JT • J" '*"'• •'«' "MMhow . riUver wb.. tnraugh m^ when I uli«.i .i.. j j """^^ "nit Doni ..^ .iT ' ""M the address. It wm '"'im I and this was her bth^ u l . when he n» me crv anH i ' '^''« <"*»» >« own fe™. tt, ^ or*rLir"and" « r °' «« '* *" the lonesomeat fu^^i; '^"' It didn't make th. 7^ ^ ''* *" *™' «t- 7» t ' THE FLORIST'S WIFE'S STORY some pansies that had been left over to put on her- grave, and there was a new white marble monu- ment, with an angel with drooping wings, and, after her name and age, were the words, " Greater love hath no man than this." I knew at once it was her doings, poor flighty thing. 1 often wonder what became of her, for he had a very taking way with him, fit to wile a bird off a bush, with a plead- ing sort of way of deferring to the person he Was talking to, that means so much or so little. You've a bit of it yourself, ma'am, and maybe that was what opened my heart to tell you this sad story. Oh, here's McLane.' * A lady wanting you, William. ** Boston rose on long stems, and five dozen plants for rooms on Thursday night" We'll do it, though it does dry the plants so — the hot rooms and gas. Is that your carri^e? There's a tall, fair young man in it like— " Your son?" Just home from a three years' tour? Going to be married ? He favors you, ma'am. Good-day. My God ! McLane, it's him ; he's not married, and I have been telling that story about Cora to his mother. I was sure she reminded me of some- body. Poor Dora ! •* I shouldn't talk so much to strange customers ?" It's that helps your custom— they like it Wait till he comes here alone, that's all He'll get the truth for once: People Ulk about fate. I wonder what you call a case like that! 7a In the Convent Garden. ^"P^"' •»»■•««. and had d.4„ tt^CJ "5tte at the Convent, where she heloed in ,kl k't=hen and ch«™«, evcy morning .tt^o^ik It was all the accompaniment she had She trilled on the last two words as sh, h« ^ youngladyin Boston singitwhohti^eSTnl: 73 \\ IN THE CONVENT GARDEN village through die summer, and "Bette" listened^ outside of her window till she knew the refrain and could sing it without any regard for or knowledge of ** head notes * or method, for with her all was heart experience, for she was seventeen and in love. The day gave promise of beauty ; there was a mist over the valley, and Lachine Rapids were hidden, but the sun was dispersing it There was a quiet, restful air over the landscape, and the trees scarcely moved as " Bette" churned and sang. Her trim figure in the sei^^e gown was set off by linen cuffs and collar an4 the luxury of a silver charm and cross at the throat, for Mother Superior was gone, and josejph was likely to pass that way driving the cows to pasture. He Ivul been asking her to marry him and live with his mother in a tiny cottage at the foot of the hill, but Babette had curled her lip scornfully and said she couldn't, only adding " la mere," and he went away angry. But why not look pretty, she thought, as she coiled her fur hair and brushed it up as she had seen the Boston lady do. Out from the foliage of the beautiful garden dvnbs walked Sister Therza with clasped hands, her rosary and cross hanging at her girdle. Traces of past beauty and of past suffering could be seen on her face, where now was repression and severity. Children loved her and could always make her smile, but she seemed to be lost in thought and 74 I IN THE CONVENT GARDEN rtjriy mort of the time. TU. morning " Bette'5 " •toging had touched . ehori Ae h«l thougl^g SU^, 'r"' ""^ ""« *^ «f«in. With l»nd, «,ll cl«ped Ae «„Aed the chura «d, w.a. p«ctKaU.,Mu«„ce, then «ddenly .dded «th a laugh, « I never dared tell voo ^, ^r- t"j"^i ^- '• »-" »" I "- ^f »d ^ *°"k !''"' '^'•'" '*'"' -"^ «»' white »c«rand do your hair up like mine." Babette was a privileged character, and her P««y, pert way, were plea«u.t to the se^ ,i„^ «^»rav .rKT'"' ""'"'«~"^- "N<»he ««d softly. -I shall never take it off; it U the emblem of a chronic heartache, my dear." «tte stopped churning. opZ^'^rT VT'" '^ "•'«'• *** wide tnr^ '*<"'e''"he Sisters never had known all the worry we girls have." The blood surged to the Sister's face tl.», .1,. pew pal. .«,,«„- 1 p^ ^^;f^- *^»he «.g<-*e said at last " He Was good ^^.^Te to me, but his parents were oM and helDlesiV„!i i ZV '" """ " "•«''• ™- onety^rr^, that a woman cannot ask. but must .ufZ^ «^«. and I told h.m that' I was IZ^JH c«e of them so as to be withhim. I Utit 11^ 75 m THE CONVENT GARDEN li ' more keenly when he would not accept the acri- fice, as he called it, bat Rently refined to nany. Oh, how biiad men are ; be mq^ have known I was eating my heart out mray finm hia, and » crust with him wookl be atiUu Huol Iht wodft. witbcmt him. I was so w^gy and a^waod tiuit W turned cold ; tiien I told hun ]» <&1 nit hum mm at all, or he would want me, fat I ooukl net imder- stand such self^acrtfice. My pride ms woonded, and although Father Lafafaie, our parish priot^ tried to counsel me to make friends, I set ray teelfa hard and looked theiofter way whenever he came near. Poor Antoine — poor oae," she aiiiveted and signed. ** That is twenty years ago ; he is alone now and lives in the village. I dreamed of him last night," she added, drearily. " I sun quite con- toit ; we have everything to make as haf^^, but your song was so beautiful and touched my feelings." Just then the church bell tolled. Babette's but- ter was finished, and she rested her hands on the chum handle and counted the strokes, forty-one, f<»ty-ftwo— it stopped. "That is Antoine's age," said Sister, Therza, with pale lips. A gate clicked a little way off, and a lithe, sun- burned youth stepped in, guarding the Jersey com through the path to the pasture bars. " Good morning," he said gayly ; " speak a waM IN THE CONVENT GARDEN fort that thou do the uktag. I„ii|„ot„y^. heh,^be« «,.„g for . good wha^ .^ ^ ^^• The nun n.«te . deep «d solemn bow of «ver. "o waked and the sun shone gloriously and ^g up the neglected ™«uy, 4h bow^'l^' «««ed the chapel and shut the door. ! \ V'' Lisbeth Greys Birthday. " Lisbeth Grey, you're thirty to-day." Some- how it was ringing in my ears, and nothing else could take its place. Mother kissed me silently ; she knew I was " turning a corner," as younger girls would say. I went through my round of duties, milked the cow, fed the chickens, and made things as comfortable as possible. Then I went up to my little chamber to dress, and opened my Bible, as I am apt to do when troubled, to look for a verse of comfort to a sore heart The words I found were, "Then Nathan said unto David, Do all that is in thine heart, for God is with thee." It came upon me with a sense of relief. Did God know? What a comfort to feel that He is vrith us. Mother had fallen asleep over her knitting, and looked contented. I alone was troub- led and careworn. All have scattered from the home. " Some are married, some are dead," and we live together. I ought to have been called Ruth, for I cleave to her, and she has often told me of the night I was bom 78 1 : USBETH GRErs BIRTHDAY •bought. «^ of D.^**?;^ ^'* «:? •" -y y«a» .go to do bettoTthe ^ 1^17%**; »cnt money to nav «•<' "Uly ■"oa- ws Sir; 2S xr::::^^, "■".."'• over the field, to wi h« ' "°"''' «» «to.tiag.„d;?Dtidti^'r ?" f" • «'* «t«e one , w^ taWng "to hT " *°~"'' "" *« 6 ^° '"°'* y°"th ; life is practi«U fr^ LISB^TH GREY'S BIRTHDAY v^ and bitter. We all hive tuch howB when we teel that life i« a foiliue. I thought that I would tiy to forget the past I had no right to remember. I was only twenty when David went away, and doubtless I had misunderstood him, and he only meant a neighboriy friendliness to m& But all the same I had been true to him. I could get along while mother was spared to me, and then — The world looked very dark ; twilight had deep- ened. I passed a bend in the road, and came to the cottage just aA a tall fair man came out He walked toward me as if we had only parted yerter- day. " I was coming to you, Lisbeth," he sakl, taking both hands ; " it is your birthday." He kx>ked in my face. Did he see a change? If y heart failed me. I knew how much many men think of beauty, and the words were repeated in my brain, -thirty to^ay." " You little grey ghost ;" then seeing my emotion, lie asked, " Have you waited for me, dear, as I have for you ? " Tliin we went into the cottage. The invalid was sitting up. " I couldn't keep him any longer, Us- beth," she said, smiling ; "he wanted to share his good fortune with you." I foff ot the cake at first When I took it to her, Davkl looked at it curiously, for he said that he believed that that chocolate frosting spelled his name. He could trace D-a-v-i-d quite plainly, LISBETH GREV'S BIRTHDAY «nd he IciMed me right before his mother uid •pokeofourfutam "Kjcner. and "ButmotfaeiWiMid w.'iS'^''' "^.^^ ""'»««<» •»««.• where we an .U live, end we wfll be happy together -^ ««i nad not known he loved me. for such a ^«wledge would have helped me th^J^Jl S?Sii^fof:^rr^ OM waited for wealth ; love is best," I saw. ^Theo we wiU make the best of iC headd«i. And then we toM mother. 9i mtm Christmas "Further On." CHAPTER I. Christmas Eve in the country. The choret are all done, the cows snugly shut up for the night, the horses munching hay in their stalls, the pigs in their sty giving a contented grunt, with a loving inclination toward the com in the trough, and the remnant of poultry, left over with a view to next year's eggs, are dreaming perchance of " last year's nests." Silence broods o\'er all, for the boys of the farm have shoveled a path from the gate, pumped all the water requisite for culinary purposes, and are now toasting their toes beside tbe kitchen fire. "Tom," "SUas* and "Joe* represented the rising generation in Farmer Willough's home ; and strong, hardy, dauntless, without a care or fear, they rested and grew vigorous on their plain but wholes6me di«:t And now Chiristmas was coming, Mrs. Wiilough was busy preparing for the next day's dinner, and a smell of singed feathers and boiling plum pudding mingled with the pungent odor of the thyme dressing that was in process of prepara- tion. She was a tall, fair woman, past the prime 83 CHRISTMAS "FURTHER ON" J^^.rK:;^"*'""^ How well d^^SiMm bwed that Chrittmu time. She had be«.T»Ti. «^he, one d««h.„. u«^ poZ>^^, ^odj^d fcr wjjek. brib« h«l been hay^ * eftT ^^' "^ '""'»«'• •»«' "wooded her pwntcd nrf. and whittled out Mme funny toys for the youngest boy, while she made a new dr^T.n^ b««^ it at n^t w^ they we« Jun'^^; ^^d' then on Christmas Eve the little daughter was iL Hm. K r ^^ ^" ^°™ '■^ «»« fi"t and But PH^^ ^ ^" ^"* '*"**» «»« ««ve. But Christmas came and went, the vears r«ii-^ oo.no other d»ght.rc«„etochJt/rS^^'^ ba life «rf when !«, only .ister died, and I,S^ « tahnt tat a (ewweek. old, Ae took it .riLtL^ "4 with the fathe,', eon«nt, n«»ed the U^HS S-!^ ^ Chr«tn,„ preparation.; a bright hght in titt „ft brown eyes, and a look of Si •MM w the speaking face. For it is R,„k . i?2. ^y . «« holy Chri.t'n,as Hde, ^d ^hi'is'^.ot X^- teen to-morrow. The oven door is opened tS, . pnffand steamy smell, «.voo- ^ hS:g^',;^t« 83 MCMCorv moumoN tst chart (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 1.1 lit u 124 1 33 1X6 lAO 22 Ml mil ^ /iPPLIED HVMGE he )653 Coat Main Stract He c h— I f. Nm Yorh 14M9 USA (716) 463 - OMO - Phem (7t«) Ma-SMa-Fad for home, he had furthr ''*^"' *""* "^^'"'^"^ "^^y "'* ^ ^''^' CHRISTMAS " FURTHER ON - But the tune died on his lips as two figures arose suddenly in his path and he found his hands tied behind him. Then, quick as a flash, a dozen of his neighbors stood around him, and the first two were fighting fiercely. He loosed his hands, or someone cut the cord, he never knew; but there was a flash, one of the ruffians had fired, and he saw among his defenders a slight form fall to the ground. There was a minute's silence, then a dozen men fell on the two and tied them securely, and shook them, using fierce and bitter words. Hugh bent over the wounded lad. " Sila^l and you are hurt defending me. I thought to-night you were angry with me about something." The lad's face grew deathly pale as they tore away his clothes. Would he die with his secret unspoken ? In a few rapid words the neighbors spoke to each other of the part he had taken in the rescue, of the bitter sacrifice, the sorrow of fiiends. For well they knew no doctor could heal the wound now, as his life blood ebbed away while they vainly tried to staunch it « Hold my hand fast. Hugh," he murmured like a drowsy child, "and tell Ruth I love her, but I give her to you." His voice sank lower, there was a hush among that crowd of stalwart men who wept silently, and as the moon rose and shone on the scene, adding CHRISTMAS " FURTHER ON " w JlTeJ^'r ^L'^l' ^•^^ ^ '^"'•d 'o turn hi. of the wind, he whispered— * ^ ••It Abetter farther OB." 9«