A PASTORAL ROMANCE
(Continued from Page 2)



to Martin, but he accepted Nellie’s
dictum in that, as in other things,
and never mentioned it again to her.
Nellie went on teaching until her
hair was white, and the old mother
too frail to be left alone.

Thereafter, Nellie and Martin ran
the farm on shares, Nellie furnishing
the land and seed, and Martin doing
the heavy work. Martin never mar-
ried and, although his devotion re-
mained unspoken, no one ever knew
him to swerve. As they grew old, th<..
common enterprise became the dom-
inant interest in both their lives, seem
ing to take the place, at least in part
of the common life they had hoped 1or
in marriage.

Farming was one thing about which
Martin had definate opinions, and he
and Nellie, who had definite opinions
on every subject, sometimes clashed
about the best use of the land, parti-
cularly the big field back of the or-
chard. Every year he planned to
put potatoes in and every year Nel-
lie insisted on having corn there.
“T’ll hoe corn but not pick potaio
bugs, and I’ll not walk clear to the
next county to hoe my corn,” she
said, and Martin planted corn.

One year Nellie decided to settle the
dispute for good and all. She gave
the plot to the young people, who had
been wanting level ground for a ten-
niis court. Of course Martin protiosted.
She was ruining one of the best pieces
of ground in the township. Nellie
told him to go ahead and plow it up.
He could plant cabbages around the
court. But Martin didn’t plow it. He
dilly-dallied around with the other
work, and for the first time in years
found work on his own farm suffi-
ciently urgent to keep him off Nellie’s
land. Early one spring morning, as
he started off to fix a fence in the
farthest corner of his own farm, he
looked across the road and up be-
yond the orchard to the disputed field.
There was Nellie, plowing away in her
awkward, capable, left-handed way,
one arm swinging useless at her side.
Then he capitulated, and not only
plowed and dragged the field, but even
rolled it and put in fence posts.

Is it any wonder the young people

THE SLIPPERY ROCKET

adored Nellie? For all her prim sev-
erity, she was very good to them in
an undemonstrative way. She never
gave them consolation or affection, or
indeed, anything in words except
scoldings about skirts and hair and
late hourfs. But many a material gift
came from her littie house to the
young people. Lemonade for picnics,
hot cocoa in her stiff little parlor after
an evening of coasting or skating,
Christmas treats, and strawberry
feasts went far to win their hearts.
She never singled one out; her gifts
and offerings were for the whole
group.

After she gave up teaching, I be-
lieve, in a detached sort of way, she
missed the human company. It was
then that she began to draw the
young people in, and it was then that
she began to take in summer boarders.
Not that she permitted these boarders
any intimacy, for she didn't. 1 was
one of them, and I know. It was not
until I had been there for five sum-
mers, and had admired the iris bed
incessantly and picked potato bugs
faithfully for many hot summ\r hours
that I began to be talked to. I never
got out of the “summer ’'boarder”
class into the “belong-in-the-commun-
ity” group, but I think Nellie talked
more freely to me after some years
than she did to anyone else. However,
that’s not saying much.

During all my close, daily associa-
tion with her, I never saw Nellie soft-
en but once. It was the evening be-
fore I left for the last time, and I was
sitting in the kitchen watching Nellie
roll biscuits for supper. I felt keenly
the pang of leaving the dearly loved
place, and I believe Nellie, too, felt
sorry to have me go. So there we sat,
in the darkening autumn evening,
silent, but trying to talk in a mute
sort of way. Over the hill from the
orchard came Martin, bringing in the
cabbages from the lost battlefield. As
she watched his slow, stooping hguce,
Nellie’s eyes softened and became ten-
der. For an instant she seemeda to
melt in soft, womanly beauty.

“Poor boy ! Life’s been hard on him.
——And so have 1.”

Then she left her biscuits and went
out to help him put the cabbages into
the wash-house. Half an hour later
I heard her scolding him for leaving

the wash-house door open.

Five years passed, but I never went
back. 1 wanted that to be my last
memory of Nellie.

No, I didn’t go to the funeral, T evei
skipped that part of Martin’s letter
which told about it. I read and re-
read the story of her death. How
Martin, sitting on his own porch, had
been watching her erect figure over
the iris bed, dreaming, I suppose, of
old sweetheart days; how he had seen
her totter and fall; how he had
lcaped his own fence and blasphemed
the iris bed, which de dared not brush
though even thin; how he had knelt
beside the still figure, clasping in one
hand an iris leaf, the other lying use-
less half under her. The iron bound
heart had burst its bonds. It is a
credit to Martin, and a beautiful trib-
ute to Nellie, that he lifted her ten-
agerly and carried her in, his lips close
pressed against her white hair. To
me, that is the end of the story; there
in the quiet of a beautiful autumn
evening, the sun set in a soft, rosy
glow.



Will Congress face a ‘““monkey law”
this winter 2—N. Y. Evening Post.

Tact is just the art of making the
other fellow feel more important than
yourself.—Rochester Times.

An economizer is not without honor
save in his own home.—Lynchbusg
News.

Now that France and Spain have
got together they expect to give the
Riffs a biff.—Washington News.

It is sometimes hard to tell from the
foreign news dispatches whether the
Europeans are discussing their debts
or merely cussing them.—Providence
Journal.

F. W. DENGLER

FANCY BAKED GOODS AND
CONFECTIONERY
Slippery Rock,



Penn’a. t





W. J. MAYBURY

DRUGGIST
Slippery Rock,

- E-—_seTeeTeew T