Evening Star Newspaper, December 29, 1894, Page 19

| | j ee ee eT Ld oe eee eee THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. (Copyright, 1894.) CHAPTER I. What was called a union revival was 1n progress at the principal meeting house in Broomfield, an old and gullied village in the southwestern part of Missouri, and the exhort, vigorous advocates of a change of Wleart and purpose, were warm in their work when the slight flutter of « counter-excitement arose amid the con- gregation. Old Bill Aimes, strong among the exhorters, and who long had enjoyed the name of “Wheel Horse,” looked toward the door and saw a strange young woman slowly and with long strides walking down the aisle. She was exceedingly tall and with a complexion that seemed to darken Ss she drew near, but she was not un- graceful and neither was her face wanting in attractiveness. Her tailor-made gown was a mark of ultra feshion in this out- of-the-way place; and her air, her swing of motion bespoke the forced independence of city life. She paid not the slightest heed to the gazes bent upon her, but with easy freedom took a seat and modestly turned her eyes toward the altar, where ot “Boy, What Have You Got There?” the mourners in split and shivered accents ere pitiably begging that the old Adam born within them might be cast out into utter darkness. And now the whisper went round: “Who fs she and where did she come from and what is she doing here?” Some of the children climbed upon the benches to stare at her, and old Bill ‘Aimes, always a bold man, looked staight at her and shouted his exhortation as though he would have her believe that she had arrived just in time to escape the awful fury to come. But the woman sat there not the least disturbed; and when the services were brought to a close she got up without looking about her and walked straightway to the tavern, a short distance down the street. It appeared that she had already engaged a room, for she walked upstairs without halting, and a few moments later a boy came down with a note in his hand. Bill Aimes was standing near the door of the hallway, and as the boy came down the old man called to him and told him to stop a moment. “Boy, what have you got there?” old fellow asked. “A note or sowething of the sort,” he answered. “What are you going to do with it?” he told me to take it to the editor of the Sentinel.” ; “Well, let me see It.” The boy hesitated. “Let me see it, I tell you. Ain’t I the mayor of this town, you young rascal, and ain't it my business to know it if any underh: business goes on here? Give me that thing.” The idlers who stood about applauded the mayor, and the boy handed him the rote. “Here, Alf," he said, speaking to a young fellow, “read this here thing. Left my buckskin at home and ain't got nothing to rub my glasses with. Read it.” There was a titter among the idlers. “What are you fellows gigglin’ at? Think I can't read? Hah? Is that what. you think? Why, I gad—Lord forgive me for the ex- pression—I read the Declaration of Inde- pendence at a muster before eithér of you was born, What does that thing say, alt? Alf spelled and spluttered for a moment or two and then read the following: “My Dear Sir. Meet me at once in the rior at the hotel on important business. pectfully, POLLY LOPP.” The old man took the note, looked at it, turned it over, looked at it again, folded it and returned it to the boy. “I don't understand it, but I reckon it’s all right,” he said. “Take it to him, and say, you, watch him when he reads it, and’ come back here and tell me how he looked.” It did not appear that the boy had more than reached the shanty where the paper was printed when they saw the editor coming hastily toward the hotel. To him the prospect “of an important business conference no doubt produced a strange sensation. Year efter year he had “scrap- ped” for a living in that village, printing funeral tickets, horse bills, and through his sheet urging his party to organize and overthrow the political enemy of his coun- try. The Idlers about the door of the hall made way for him as he approached, but the mayor, showing a disposition to block his path, asked Mim to wait a moment. The editor gave him a look of strong re- the proof. “I have no time for gossip,” he said. “I have important business.” The crowd stood about the door, wait- ing for him to come down, and when he did those who were best acquainted with “Ahem! Excuse Me; May I Come Int™ his sad and careworn countenance agreed that he looked years younger. Now, what could it all mean? The mystery was deep- ened. “Jest hold on a minute,” old Aimes called © him.The editor f. d about ard said: v what do you want?” “We want to know som ing that we've got a right to kn Aimes replied. here's something goin’ on here and we want to know what it Is. You never saw that woman before, and why should you have important business with her? We @on't know but she’s some female anarch- ist come here to blow up these here Amer- fcan inst!tutions.” ‘The editor laughed, and for the first time since his defeat as a candidate for the legislature. “She's nothing of the sort,” he said. “To tell you the truth, she has just leased my paper for a year with the privilege of buying, and she assures me that it shall maintain its present high Standard of morality and integrity. She takes charge tomorrow, and you have nothing to fear from her.” “But where is she from? Aimes asked. “We don’t want women comin’ in here among our folks without we know where they are from.” She came from Chicago.” What, and you are sure she ain’t an anarchist? Look here, colonel, you ought to have gone a little slow in this matter. She might hoist the red flag at the head of your paper, and then where would the country be?" ‘No danger of that,” the editor laughed, and off he walked, leaving old Aimes to stand there and wonder whether or not he should call on the woman and get a few points from her. He decided that he would, and upstairs he went. Ite looked in at the parlor door and saw tue young woman sitting on the sofa with a book in her hand. “Ahen moment?’ “Yes,” the woman answered, putting aside the book. The old man entered, took a chair, moved it about and finally settled down near her. “Putty hot,” he ventured to remark. ‘es, rather.” “Hotter than it was yisti¢y, I believe,” he observed. “Yes, or day before yesterday, either,” she replied. “I gad, 1 reckon you are right.” She siowly turned her head and locking straight at him said: “You were exhorting in the church just a short whtle ago, I believe?” “You are right. I always take an active part in our revivals. But we hain’t done much this time and the meetin’ closed to- day.” “I thought you were the man, and I therefore a little surprised to hear yo ‘I gad’ after hearing you so fervently people to turn from frivolous ways.” Old Aimes puffed and fanned himself with his straw hat. The woman took up her book and looked at it. “Miss, I knock under. You are right. But I don’t mean no harm by usin’ such words, and I want to say they are the strongest I ever use. Bleeged to you for callin’ my attention to ‘em. But I have come to see you to ask you a few questions, and I hope you won't think them out of place, or anything of that sort, for you see country people pride themselves on bein’ more respectable than most any other folks are, and the truth is they have to be mighty particular and all that sort of thing, which I hope you will understand without any trouble, and the questions I want to ask you are simply these Rere: How did you happen to come here and—" “How did you happen to come here?” the woman broke in, raising her eyes from the book and mildly fixing them upon the old man, And she appeared to be making a study of him, his squint eyes, his purple cheeks, bushy eyebrows, fat nose; and she noticed that the bosom of his cotton shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the grayish hairs on his chest. “But before you answer,” she added, still looking at him, taking, it seemed, an enjoyable meas- urement of his discomfiture, “let me ask you if you would mind buttoning your shirt.” “I gad, miss,” the old man puffed, “you are somethin’ of a Tartar, I reckon. i've lived here all my life and have been mayor here for ten year and have wore my shirt this way every spell of hot weather, and you are the first one to tell me to button it; but dinged—excuse the expression, for it's the strongest I use—I say dinged if I don't do it. Now, miss, the shirt’s button- ed, so go ahead with your rat killin’, as the feller said. “I have no rat killing to go on with, I merely asked you how you happened to come here.” “Yes, but blast my hide—excuse me for that expression, if you please, for it: is about the strongest I use—you've got no right to ask me that question.” “Well, then, you have no right to ask me how I happened to come here.” “Miss, I tell you that I'm the mayor cf this here town, but we'll let that pass. would you mind tellin’ me your name?” “My father’s name was Lopp and in re- membrance of a great-aunt I was called olly.”” “Ah, hah, I reckon it was all right to ricollect the old lady and all that sort of thing, but from what I can gather from the ‘papers Lopp is a sort of anarchist name, ain't it?” “I have never known an anarchist of that name,” the young woman answered, smiling. “They may be, miss, but I don’t like the name any too well, but we'll let that pass, as the feller said when he seed the wild cat.” He was silent long enough to unbutton the top button of his shirt and then he went on: “We understand that you have leased the paper here, and we'd like to know why, for when a paper is leased there is gencrally’ some sort of ax to be ground, so 1 would just like to ask you what sort of ax you have brought with you?” The woman threw down the book, laugh- ed at the old man, and, clasping her hands back of her head, leaned back, still laugh- ing at him. “Miss, you are as much tickled as if there was a bug on you. Hah, don't you think there's a bug on you? I have gen- erally commanded a good deal of respect among women folks and you needn’t laugh at me any more than you can help, even if there’s a bug on you but what I want to get at, and I'm going to get at it mighty sudden, is this here: Before we can allow you to associate with us we must know somethin’ about you, and it is as little as you can do to tell us what we want to know.” “You have asked me for my confidence,” she said, looking at him with demure mockery, “the precious confidence of an unprotected woman, and oh, how willingly would I give it you but for the fact that I have not known you long enough. But 1 confess that you have invited my confi- dence by seeking to unbosom yourself.” She looked at the old man’s shirt and he ed and buttoned it. “Miss, I'll be slathered—now that {s really the strongest expression I use—if you don’t sorter git away with me. But won't you tell me somethin’ about yourself?” “Why, yes, I will give you my tenderest confidences.” “Oh, now, here, don’t chaw me. I am the mayor of this town, I tell you, and if you are goin’ to rum a paper here you had better keep in with me. The city council takes ten copies and 1 could have them cut off at any time.” She raised her hands as if imploring him not to cut them off, and he, looking down at his shirt to see If it were buttoned, showed his yellow teeth, and continued: “Yes, you better keep in with me. Man tried to run a paper here once without keepin’ in with me, and what do you reckon became of him?” “Went to the legislature, I suppose. ni fan! Aden ou pxou?, Dinwed it he didn’t go there, but he left his 7 as a padlock.” ° Raper dead “I haven't anything to hide,” she s: nd I don’t mind telling you that, feng grown vevy tired of city life, I have come here to rest awhile, but ndt being able to rest without work I have decided to lease this little paper and play with it.” Talk like a woman in a show, dinged if you don't. Not being able to rest without work is a new one on me; but we iet that pai excuse me; but may I come in a ust as well, I suppose. Yes, purpose to live here a year, and ed rt ike the place well en: y like the pla ough’ I may remain “Ah, hah,” said the old fellow, “that ts to say, you mought git’married and settis down here. Putty good plan, I reckon, for 1 hear ‘em say that marriage is about played out in the cities. I have seed better lcokin’ women than you air, but then, I | reckon, you mought do on a@ pinch, and you never can tell jest_how soon a pinch is goin’ to take place. My old woman has been dead about two year and I ‘lowed after while that I mought pick up a chunk of a wife, may do so this fall if my corn down here on the creek turns o@ well.” “Your shirt collar {s unbuttoned again,” she said. “Blast me ff I don’t go to the blacksmith shop and git me a horseshoe nail jest to accommodate you. So you are goin’ to run the newspaper. Never hearn of a woman runnin’ a paper, but I have hearn of ‘em ridin’ straddle and I don't see why a news- paper shouldn't come next.” “By the way,” she said, should like to find some pleasant place to board. I don’t care to stay at this hotel.” “You are talkin’ sense, now, miss. Let me see: I live about a quarter of a mile 19 nS renee ane i ne eer Oe Ae iS» UR | sneakin’ from here—just an easy walk—and if you don’t mind you may board there. My daughter Nell lives with me, and you'd like her, Oh, she eats more books than a shecp do straw, always a chawin’ ’em, and you'd it along well together. She's too smart ‘or this town, and you and her could trot together right well. Well, I'll send her over to see you. I reckon you are all right, leastwise you understand takin’ care of yourself. Good day.” She arose and as he reached the door she called him. “What is it, miss?” “Nothing, only I hope that you will not forget to go by the blacksmith shop.” ‘The old man puffed and tramped heavily down the stairs, and at the bottom he found Alf and the other fellows waiting for him. “Don’t put yourself to no uneasiness on her account, gentlemen,” he said. “She can take care of herself, and if she can't, I gad,I can take care of her, or come mighty blame nigh it; but I reckon that expres- sion is a litle too strong for a man that thinks as much of a revival as I do, and I ask the Lord to excuse me.¥ “But hold on and tell us somethin’ about * Alf insisted. “I don't know a blessed thing about her eXcept that she’s all right, and that’s all anybody need to know. Shortly afterward a young woman called at the hotel, introduced herself to the stranger and said that following the ad- vice of her father she had come to ask Miss Lopp to board with her. ‘We have a great, big old-fashioned house,” she said, “and you may have all the room you want, so don’t say you won't. Will you please not say you won't?” The visitor had taken a seat on the piano stool and not ungracefully was slowly terning herself half round and then back. She was a comely girl and it was evident that she was the belle of the neighborhood; and it was also evident that she cared nothing for this distinction, that she had Shirt Collar ts Uabuttoned Again.” studied and read herself beyond any com- panionship that the village might offer, and that simply to be admired had long since grown tiresome to her. Miss Lopp never forgot that pleasing picture, the dark eyes half humorously pleading, the abundant hair caught up here and there as if by graceful and yet careless dips, the pleasing face and yet a countenace be- speaking strength of will—physical vigor and grace. ‘ “You must not say you won't,” the girl went on, giving Miss Lopp no time to an- swer, “until you know how much in need of a sensible companion I am. Father—and let me request you not to pay any atten- tiog to his strong expressions, for he is reafly the best man you ever saw—well, he does everything he can to lighten my lone- liness, but he can’t do so very much, you know, being only a man, and I am actually hungry for some one to talk to.” “I don’t see how I can resist so strong an appeal,” Miss Lopp replied. “There, I Knew you couldn't say you wouldn't when you were brought to un. derstand it all, And we'd better go no’ she added, springing off the stool. “You shall have a large front room, but it has a rag carpet, woven half seniimentally by a woman that lives not far from here—by half sentimentally I mean that she thought so much of me she wove it for half price. But you don’t mind that, do you?” “What, the sentiment or the half price?” “Why, the rag carpet, of course. I didn’t ody but you might expect velvet on the joor."” 5 “My dear child,” said Miss Lopp, “it was not the thought of a carpet that brought me into this neighborhood, and to tell you the truth I don’t care whether the floor is covered with a rag or with sawdust.” “Oh, I just know that I shall like you, because you are not stupid with evenness of talk and kiln-dried manners. So come on and we'll go over right now.’ And so Miss Lopp was installed in a large room in an old-fashiored hoyse. Her two front windows commanded the drowsy village, the town cow that looked as though she had been patched, having so often been scalded by irate housewives; the prowling hog, the sport of every dog that found himself without amusement, the hitching rack. where farmers’ nags squeal- ed and bit at one another. But the two other windows looked upon a garden, rose- tinted here and therd, the dark shade lying between rows of high peas, a tangle of plum bushes, a long slope and a creek. The office the newspaper was found in a jumbled state, with black and light types mixed together, but with the assistance of a boy who had long been an apprentice, a decent order was brought about, and from the very first number the paper showed an improvement. The paragraphs were writ- ten with a vigor that made the villagers wink as though their eyes had lighted upon something too bright for them; and the editorials on national and international subjects were ret forth with that dignity which the farmer demands that his editor shall observe. A show of frankness soon wins the confidence of a southern town, and Miss Lopp became so evident a favor: ite that within a month after her arrival her paper had picked up an additional cir- culation of fifty copies, a marvelous growth, a newspaper miracle in Bloomfield. Nell soon learned to pick up type, and was, therefore, Polly’s closest aud most valued companion. They were rarely seen apart; they strolled in the woods like lovers, and together they begged contribu- tions to the mite society. One afternoon, as they were going home to enjoy the cool of the garden, Nell, swinging Polly’s hand as they moved along, declared that she had never been so happy. “I feel that I am useful,” she said; “I feel that I am the dearest friend of a woman who knows something. And do you know whut I have been thinking of? I have been thinking that we ought to make a vow never to separate. I told father the other night that I should never marry, and if you will take up the same resolution why we will live together, There's the stage, and look, there ure three passengers, men, and they are coming this way.” Polly made no reply, but, leaning for- ward, looked eagerly at the men. They had ‘been looking about them, but upon seeing her they came quickly forward, and as they approached one of them called: “Hello, Polly!’ and then each one said: “Hello, Polly!" Several of the townspeople were within hearing, and they loitered near to see what might follow. Polly spoke to the strangers, and then requested Nell to walk on, that she would overtake her. Nell hesi- tated. “Won't you please walk on,” Polly insisted. “I'll soon catch up with you.” Nell obeyed, though not without mutter- ing an objection, and Polly stood in the road, talking to the strangers. What could it mean? Why were they so familiar with her and why should she desire to see them alone. They turned and slowly walked to- ward the stage coach, which was to go out again at once, to take passengers to the rail- way ten miles distant, and Polly talked to them in iow tones and then they all nod- ded and smiled. Nell and the villagers were watching them, and so was old man Aimes, and just as the three men had seat- ed themselves in the coach, the old man, commanding the driver to wait a moment, walked up to the door and said “I am the mayor of this tow! ‘orry for you,” one of the men replied. Vell, by Satan's hoofs, I like that, but excuse the expression, for it’s the strongest 1 ever did use; but what do you mean by in here without lettin’ anybody know you was comin’ an’ sneakin’ out again without lettin’ anybody know why you did come? Now what have you got to say?” * “Shut the door, old man. Tra loo.” “Wait!” the old man commanded. “Who are you and what did you want with this young woman? “Go on, driver. So long, old top.” And off they went. “Miss Polly,” said the old man, turning toward the editor, “what do it mean?” “Your shirt collar is unbuttoned again,” was all she said. CHAPTER IL. That evening in the house of old man Aimes there was a silent supper party. Nell’s flowing friendship had been rudely “Your checked and a*sharp heel had been set upon the old man's dignity. And it looked as though a coolness muSt necessarily fol- low. The strangers had brought a mystery with them and had left it in the village, and in this mystery song: Polly Lopp. Not a word had been spoken. Polly arose to leave the table. Nell looked up and her ccuntenance was soffowful, not so much that there might be a compromising mys- tery, but that it was’kept dark from her. “Goin’, Miss Polly?) Aimes asked. “Yes, I am througijwith my supper.” “But wait a moment. Now there’s no need of foolishness between us; we are your friends end you ought to speak out. Them men comin’ here ar @ybein’ so familiar like with you will cause a sctindal, and it's for me to determine as the mayor of this town whether or not I cap stand by you, But first you must tell me—uever mind about my shirt bein’ unbuttoned and all that sort of thing—you mut tell me somethin’ about them men. Now, will you?” “Yes. They cam: and they went away. That is all you need to know.” “Not be a slatherin’—éxcuse my strength —no, it ain't. Where did you know them?” ‘I might have met them in a city.’ “Hah, what's that? Might have met them in a city, but why? That's what I want to know. Didn't you hear one of them refer to me as ‘old top,’ and I’ve been ten years mayor of this town? Hah, didn’t you hear that? And why, then, should you have met them in a city, or anywhere else?” “When I probably met them years ago perhaps I was not aware that they were going to refer to you as ‘old top.’” Nell laughed, and the old man scratched his head. ‘Well, now, we'll say that you couldn't help meeting them,” he went on, “but we can’t say that you had to become so well acquainted with them as to let them call you Polly. I gad, I don’t call you Polly, and I’m mayor of this town and have been for ten years this comin’ July, I gad. flope the Lord will in the meantime excuse both I gads. Hah, now answer me that, will you?” “All that you need to know, Mr. Aimes, you shall know in time.” “Hah, in time? But what will the people of this town think when thoy come to me to find out and I put them off witk your sayin’ that they shall know in time? I gad, miss, when the peopie of this town want to know a thing there ain't no sich thing as time—the whole scheme {s an eternity until they find out, and unless they find out before the next election I’m beaten as sure as a horn, and I’ve been- mayor sc long now that I can’t quit. Set down here now and tell us, won't you?” “Not this evening. Nell, I'm going out into the garden.” Polly was sitting in the summer house when Nell joined her. ‘They were silent for a time and then Nell said: “I am so sorry that anything should have happen- ed. I was as ha»py as I could be until then. Tell me, dear, what it all means, and I'll promise to stand by you, no mat- ter what it is, for I do think so much of you. I do, Polly. I love you, in fact, and now it does grieve me so to have anything come between us.” Polly took her hand and, holding it, re- plied: “There are many features of life in a city and some of them might seem strange to you. That I should have be- come acquainted with those men was a happening; that they should have come to this place is another happening, and neith- er happening amounts to enough to cause any real uneasiness of the part of my friends. So I beg of you not to let it worry you. “Oh, it doesn’t worry me so far as I am concerned, but what will the people say? Indeed, what won't they say?” “Nell, the view and the opinion of a village are necessarily narrow; here peo- ple are suspicious of strangers and are ever on the lookout for an opportunity a TEI i ‘I WANT TO MARRY YOU, let you trade out fifteen. Now, what do you say?” “Mr. Aimes,” she said, and her voice was low and sympathetic, “your earnest plead- ing warms my heart toward you, and it there grieves me to tell you that I am enga, “The horn spoon you say! But who to? But not to one of them men, I hope.” “No; not to one particularly, but to all three.” “The off ox you say! But you can’t mar- ry all three of ‘em.” “No, I can't; but I ¢ which one I really wan “Miss,” said the old man, catching up his hat and arising, “you come mighty near be- ing the blamest creeter I ever saw.” He stood there fumbling with his collar; he took out the nail, held it a moment in his hand, and then, throwing it away, said: “Thar, I have flung my love and your hon- or out into bushes. Good night. * There was a great deal of talk in the vil- lage, and at one time it appeared that the mite society, for whose benefit Polly had so ardently begged a nickel here and there, wait and see “Miss Polly, What Do It Meant” would issue an edict against her; but fhe tide was finally turned by the president of the association, a widow with a business eye. She saw that to cut off the newspaper was to throw away a valuable adjunct, and so it was agreed that Polly might remain in the society and rest simply under a mild degree of suspicion. The question was Gis- cussed in the church, but the preacher, strong in his belief that church notices and abstracts of sermons should be printed, called a determined halt. How much longer the affair might bave been discussed, and into what remote and executive corners of affrighted virtue it might have been dragged, it would be difi- cult to say; but the arising of a new topic put it all aside. And this new tople was one of real excitement. Not far away in the hills lived a gang of desperate nen, the Abe Peters boys, they were called. It was known, or at least it was strongly suspected, that they had robbed railway trains. Determined efforts on the part of the law had fuiled to bring them to justice. It was believed that they had formed an alliance with the Dalton gang, but this their leader denied, and offered, on condi- tion of a pardon for himself and friends, to help the officers bring the Daltons into court or to kill them. This offer was ac- cepted. The Daltons were killed or so bad- ly crippled that nothing further was to be feared from them. Well, after this the Peters gang fought off.the temptation to rob trains, but could not forego the pleasurable recreation of riding into a village now and then and shooting out the lights. So, just about the time the talk concerning Polly and the three men was Sinking to a mere whisper of dying scandal, the Peters broth- ers rode into Broomfield, shot the town cow, wounded the prowling hog and shat- DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND.” to suspect one another, so it would be quite impossible for me to make an ex- planation that would be satisfactory to them.” “But, my dear Polly, you can make an explanation that will be satisfactory to ‘Not now, my dear, but after awhile I wiil. Your father is calling you.” The old man stood at the garden gate, whooping the name of his daughter, and when she had come to him, having left Polly sitting on a bench in the summer house, the old fellow said: “Nell, go into the house and stay there till I come, and when I do come I may have some mighty interestin’ news for you. The girl passed on without replying, and the old man joined Polly in the summer house. He sat down on the bench near her, fanning himself with his straw hat, and it was some time before he spoke. “Hotter’n it was last night,” he sald. “Hotter than it was night before last, I think,” the woman replied. “I gad, I guess you're right. You always raise me one; must have played poker in your tim “But if I were to play poker I might not always raise; I might sometimes simply call.” “Gad, I believe you have played, but that ain't what I want to talk about. See this?” He touched his shirt collar and it was fastened with a horseshoe nail. “Been a threatenin’ to git it for a long time and got it jest now in honor of you, don’t you see? But it ain't nothin’ to laugh at. Will you let me tell you somethin’ ?” “Yes, Iam going to sit here a few mo- ments longer.” “Don’t exactly like the way you put it, but 1 reckon it’s all right.” He was silent, fumbling with the nail at his collar; he sighed deeply, threw his hat on the ground, thrust his hands into his pockets and lean- ed back against the vine-woven lattice work. And in the twilight she could see that his face was hard set and his coua- terance eager.” “What were you going to tell me?” she asked. “Somethin’ powerful important to both of us, Fut you'll have to let me git at it in my own roundabout way. By this time the whole town is discussin’ the fact that three men, strange men at that, come heré and called you Polly. And mebbe in the mornin’ they will tell you that you better git out. Then what?” “I'll tell them to go to a place not on the school maps, but well located in spir- itual geography.” 4)» “I gad, that’s the qwaw to talk to avoid strength, but it won't»lo to tell ‘em no such a thing. There] isfa way by which the whole affair may; be made smooth.” “It is smooth enougy now,” she plied. bis “T'll be dinged if dt 4sy it's as rough as a toad’s back, but we can smooth it. Now here,” he leaned toward her. “I say now here, you marry mepaas the whole affair will be settled, for they won't dare to talk about the wife of the mayor of this town. Hah, what do you say?eYou see that I've got about the best placa around here, and I was down the ciekj,yesterday evenin’ and that corn is g@in’;to turn out mon- strous, hah? You can igo right down to the store and trade gut,gen dollars’ worth at a snort, hah? Then,Nell can help you right along in the ,pripting office and it shan’t cost you a cet. ,As I told you once before, you ain't so,pogerful good lookin’. Your face ain’t got, that saft look that it ought to have, but we *an’t expect every thing of a woman from the city, you knox Oh, I know I'm gittin’ old, but I bet a dol- lar that I can jump over that bean pole right yander.” “I'll take the bet,” she replied. “Hah, what's that? You don’t want to see me jumpin’ round in the garden path at night like a toad, do you? Wouldn't like to have it said thet you married a man simply because he could jump over a pole, would you? Look, don't you see I have got this here horseshoe nail jest to please you? Look how I am putting myself out.” ‘But you haven't told me that you love me,” she sald, and in the gathering dark- ness he could see her looking down. ‘Haven't I? Well, I do. Love you well enough to let you go to the store and trade out ten dollars’ worth at a snort, and if that ain't love, hanged if I know what is. Yes, I even love you more than that—I'll Te- tered a lamp in the meeting house. This was the greatest outrage that had ever been put upon that part of the country, and old man Aimes, with his shirt unbut- toned, puffed up and down the street and swore that if any one would go with him he would ride after the scoundrels. But everybody was busy. The sheriff was be- hind with his tax list, the constable wasn't feeling well, and while the citizens were discussing their inability to avenge them- selves, Polly came up and said that she would go with Mr. Aimes. “I gad,” said the old fellow, looking up- on her with admiration, “you'll drive me to the shop to get another horseshoe nail, but I think too much of you to see you put yourself in such danger. Let's wait awhile.” In the next number of her paper Polly scored the rascals, and this produced a scare. The people said that the Peters brothers would surely come back and rid- “Polly, What Have You Told Father?" dle the town. And within a week after- ward they did come back, shouting, gal- loping through the streets. In fright the people sought their homes. The marauders dashed about, firing. They galloped up to the printing office and fired at the win- dows. And then from the inside came a puff of smoke and one of the Peterses fell out of his saddle, Then there arose g furious me- lee, firing right and left, but the steady hand within the office fired again and cut of a saddle dropped another man. Sud- denly there was a new excitement among the marauders, and from béhind a goods box came the double roar of a shotgun. The Peters brothers, those not on the ground, ducked their heads and dashed away, and when Polly stepped out, with a gun in her hand, came from behind the box. “I was watching,” she said, “and I thought you needed me.” CHAPTER III. Three men had been dangerously wound- ed, and the law, now brave enough, took charge of them. Polly and Nell were hero- ines. The president of the mite society called a special meeting in their honor, and old man Aimes made a speech, with his shirt collar buttoned almost enough to choke him. Now it was declared that Polly should never leave the village: and it was also avowed that if she wanted to be acquainted with three men from away off somewhere it was her right, and that it was nobody’s business if she had chosen to engage herself to them. One afternoon Aimes called at the office and told Nell to go home. “Go right on now and wait there till I come," he said, thinking to whisper to her, but speaking loudly enough to be heard out in the street, “Yes, right now, and when I do come I may ‘have a mighty interestin’ piece cf news for you.” Nell went out and Polly knew what was coming. The old man sat down. “Littly cooler than it was yesterd: he said. “Yes,” she replie “Cooler than it was before yesterday.” “Gad, I reckon you are right. Say, do tight | you ricollect that some time ago I told you about my fidld of corn down the creck? Well, you ought to see it now. Seventy- five or a hundred bushels to the acre. And you know that I told you that you might even spend $15. Of course you ricollect it, for how could a woman and as brave a woman ‘as you ever forget it. Well, I have been thinkin’ the matter over since then and I have come to the conclusion that you may spend $20 at a snort. Now, “No, but I want to give it to you, you see—give it to you to spend at a hah? 1 want to marry you, don’t understand?” “Mr, Aimes, you ar throw yourself away. “Now, look here, don’t come a twitin’ of me,” he said. “I, was goin’ to help you shoot them fellers, but, hang it, Neil took the gun and slipped away with it before I could get to the house. I can’t run as fast ag I could nt one time,” “But I saw you running through the street and a deer couldn't have been fas- ter.” “You.are right, and I was runnin’ for the gun.” “But you were not running toward your house. “No, of course not, for I knew that Nell had tuck my gun and.I was goin’ after another one. And it's ood thing for them that I didn’t ut let us git down to business. 1 m thinkin’ the matter over and I ha to the con- clusion that I can't git’ along very well without you, and I know Nell can't. Why, look here, you ought to*be a mother to that girl, hah? Didn’t se risk her life to help you? And ain't such courage as that desepvin’.of a mother? it's easy enough to be a mother to her.” “Yes, but I can’t very well be a mother to both of you.” “The horn spoon! I don’t want you to be a mother to me; want you to be a wife to me.” “I think a great deal too brave a man to of you, Mr. Aimes.”” Bleeged to you, I gad.” “And I will break my engagement: to those three men and engage myself to you for cne year.” “Cut it down and I'm with you.” “All right, we'll say three months.” “And will you swear you won't fool me?” “I'll swear that I will not break the en- gagement unless you are willing “But here, you won't cut @p no caper in the meantime that will Zause me to draw off, hah? All right new, it’s a go, and I'll tell that old woman to weave an- other rag carpet.” He stopped at the door, turned about and remarked: “Ain't quite as chilly as it was yistid And before she could reply he had lunged out into the street and was” hastening to tell his daughier Sf his happiness. When Polly reached home, just as twilight was tangling itself an:id' the dead vines in the garden, she found Nell standing at the gate, waiting for her. The girl was ner- Vous, and she opened the gate with a jerk. “What have you-told father?” she ask- ed, when Polly passed through the gate. Don’t go into the house just yet; wait here a moment. What have you told father?” she repeated. Polly stood there, laughing at her, but she grew more nervous. “It is nothing to laugh at,” she said. “You told me, or that is you agreed, that we should never marry and that we should live together. “Don’t be worried; I was only joking with him.” “But, Polly, that was no way to joke with an old man. He is one of the best men in the world, and all that, but you don't want to marry even the best man.” “It will work out all right, Nell; don’t worry over it.” “But how can it work out all right?” ‘Wait, and you shall see.” “Yes, and that’s what you said about those three men, and that hasn't worked out all right yet. I have tried so hard to understand you, Polly, but sometimes I just can’t. Why do you wish to mystify me? Haven't I always been frank with y “Yes, too frank, perhaps. S “That's what I sometimes‘ think myself. But here comes father.” ‘The old man came out, wearing a horse- shoe nail mounted as a breastpin. “Fa- ther,” said the girl, “if I were you I would take off that fool thing and throw it away.” “Throw away my betrothal pledge, hah? Not much. You go into the house and Polly and I will walk down and look at that bottom field of corn by moonlight. “I don’t care to walk this evening,” Polly repli€d. “I'g: jtired.”” “All right, we'll wait till some other time; but say, you might Jet me kiss you once just for luck.” “No, you've had luck enough. By the way, there is a clause that I must insert in our contract, and that is this: If you speak to me again or to anyone about our compact the engagement shall be instant- ly broken, There, not a word or I'll break “Oh, you are clearing up one mystery, Go on, and you may clear up another.” “But is there any other mystery to clear up?” ‘Oh, not exactly a mystery; but how are you going to satisfy father that you should not marry him?” “Oh, probably xe will laugh at the idea tetuorrow.” “But why should he, when his mind ts now so set upon it? Do you think that hi will decline to marry you because you have been a circus woman?” Yo, not particularly.” “Oh, you are becoming mysterious again, Polly. Why don’t you be absolutely frank with me?” “I will be, but not until after 12 o'clock today.” tg “There you go again, leading me out into deeper and darker water, but I suppose I must accept your terms. Who is that out there that keeps gazing in here?” ome fellow desperately gone on you, I go out and knock him down?” “Goodness, no; he is doing no particular But Iw he would go aw: “tYou don’t like admirers, do you “The right sort of admirers, yes; but to be admired by. ignorance is a cheap vic- tery.” In Polly's eyes:‘was the light of strong admiration as she looked at the girl. “You surprise me nearly every day,” she said. I did not expect to find so bright a crea- ture in this dingy place.” “Oh,” Neli laughed, “you ¢hink I am bright just because the place is dingy. It doesn’t take much of a butterfly to look preity when it setiles in the mud. Polly was silent, meditative; and when she spoke ag: there was in her yoice a new tone, a tremulous:sadness. “I am one of the shrewd children of the world,” she said, “and you are a clover-scented child of the meadow, but, simple as you are, yours is a wisdom that I could never recch. There's that idle fellow leaning on the fence. Shall T drive him away?” wish you would tell him that he is an- i . No, it might hurt his feelings. This made Polly laugh so Icudly that the fellow, thinking that the women were mak- The Door Opened and Out Stepped a Man. ing fun of him, strode away. “One to con- template your tenderness,” said the woman of the world, “would scarcely think that you had overturned loose doubie-barre! shotgun amid a let of men. “Oh, I did that for you, and if I had thought that the fellow out there was an- noying you, I should have driyen him away long ago.” “My dear, I might take that as buke,” Polly replied, “but I won't, quickly added. Nell got up, brushing the sunbeams out of her eyes, andl walked about the room. “I feel so ofrange today,” she said. “Something must surely be going to hap- pen. I wish that editor would come over here and beg you to take his paper for another year.” erhaps he couldn't induce me to take ‘Oh, but you are not thinking of going with the circus again, are you?” “You shall soon see what I intend to do. “But con't do anything to separate us. Polly had begun to read a newspaper. “Did you hear what I said? Now what can be in that paper to interest you so?” “I was just reading ubbdut a peculiar or- ganization that I happen to know some- thing about. Some time ago an-old man, a crank, died in Chicago, having willed his money to a club, or rather to several trus- tees who were to form such a club as he should name. It was to be called the Test Club, and was to haye but thirty members. When a candidate should apply for mem- bership a test was to be imposed upon him, and if he carried it out faithfully, he was to be admitted as a member, and thereafter share in the dividends arising from certain investments, and as the divi- dends were large there was a rush for membership. And I see by this article that a woman demands the right to apply for membership, vowing that she is willing to undergo any test that may be imposed upon her.”* “What nonsense,” was the girl's com- ment. “A woman ought to know that so it right now.” To observe the new clause required on the old man's part a strong exertion of will; and sometimes, in babbling about his ‘bottom field of corn, he approached near the danger line. News of the engage- ment got out, but the old fellow swore that he had told no one; but he had been seen talking to the president of the mite society, and it was known that she had spread the report. And she said many things that were not complimentary to Polly; said that she had come to Broom- field merely to catch a husband. She even stopped Polly in the street and asked her when the marriage was to take place. “It seems of deep concern to you,” Polly replied. “Oh, not at all, I'm sure. I just merely happened to think of it. I don't care if you marry him today, I'm sure. He's noth- ing to me, goodness hnows. And so far as that's concerned, I could have married him long ago. I suppose the match will be very suitable. He's getting old, and you're net so very young yourself. Those city women have a knack of hiding their age, too. Oh, yes, I should think that you are very well suited. It’s nothing to me, I'm sure.”” “Gocd, and I hope that you'll accept an invitetion to my wedding.” “Oh, I am the last person in the world to go 40 weddings. Of course, if it's a romant\e affair I don’t mind going, but a cut and dried marriage never did catch me. Oh, by’ the way, what will those three strange men think?" “I don’t know, but I have Invited them to the wedding.” “Miss, I must say that you are about the curisest critter I ever saw, and it strikes me that the less a bedy has to do with you the better it will be for ‘em.” Several months passed, and the expira- tion of the lease was approaching. And so was the time set for Polly’s marriage. The bottom field had yielded lavishly, and the old man wore a new kemespun suit. “You know, we had a sort of a contract,” he said to Polly one evening. Yes, but if you speak of the engage- ment I'll break ‘it. “I gad, you've got me wound up in a cJose place. I'd Nike to ask you if it ain't about time you was gettin’ your dress ready, and all that sort of thing. “Look out, now, Mr, Aimes.” The old man ducked his head as though a stone had been thrown at him. “All | ght, miss, don’t forget to blow the horn Mies you'se canta: It morning, and Polly and Nell were sitting in the parlor at home. Polly had said that as the lease was about to expire there was no need! of going to the office. “We will wait,)’ she said, “and let the own- er of the paper come here if he wants to see_us, “Do you think of*taking it again?” Nell asked, with a touch of sadness in her voice. ‘0, I think not.” , then, you are marrying father? “No, I think not.” “You think not? Don’t you know?" Yes, 1 think 1 do.’ “Polly, you have one of your mysterious in earnest about fits. today. What's the use in keeping up this foolishness? ‘Tell him that you can’t marry him. You have. let it run on so long | already that he has gone to the expense of getting a new suit of clothes.” | “Yes, but he hasn't any more clothes now than he needs.” Nel] sighed, and Polly looked dreamily out into the garden. “Your coming and your stay has been a romance to me, | Polly, and now it must end.” She sat with | her elbow on a table, and meditatively and | deftly was touching her hair. The sun- light, streaming through the high window, | fell vpoa her, illumined b *, and the sad | glow of a v vas’ in her eyes, | Out in the alked a | young man, a n, to | ateh a glimpse of h Ss, your com- | ing was so strange a bringing to | me a mind that I could ire, and now | the music must evd in a dry cackle.” Polly went to her, leaned over her, kissed her, “Your romance may not * she said, “But suppose that J should tell you | that your romance had Leen brought by a | us womar “You a circus woman? I didn't know that they were so noble and brave.” “I did not say that I was a circus woman, but suppose I were one; and suppose those three men came to persuade me to go back into the ring?” socn as she gets out of her real sphere she is robbed of her force, the power that she should wield over men. “I don't know much about the power that women wield,” Polly replied, “but I don’t think that woman would make a good ringmaster. Polly? What do you “A ringmaster, mea “Why, a ringmaster in a circus.” “Oh, But why should you so frequently refer to the circus? I just believe that you intend to run awuy and leave us.” “I think not. By the way, what time a the stage come in?” ‘The first one comes at a little after eleven. Why do you want to know?" ‘Oh, T just happened to think about it.” ‘But why didn't you happen to think about it before?” “And for that matter,” Polly quickly re Plied, “why don't we happen to think about everything before?” They laughed at sach other, and Nell, seizing her friend, pretended that she was going to put her out of the house, but Pol- ly, taking hold of her arms, gave ber an easy upward swing and stood her o7 a chair. “Gracious alive,” Nell cried, spriug- ing down; “how strong you are. Did rid- ing a horse in a circus make you'so mus- euler?” “Perhaps riding a horse was not all I did. I might have handled cannon balis.” “I should think you did. Oh!" she sud- denly dow, slaimed, Icoking through the win- ‘yonder come those three strange “! am going to my room, and you must entertain them until I come down, I tell them th: to see them. They will pe: away with them. you don’t wish wade you to go ‘0; tell them that J shall be down in a few moments.” She hastened upstairs. ‘Phe men came to the door. “May we come in?” one,of them asked. : “ She invited, them in with a certain stiff- ness of manntr, and wien they had sat down one of them asked: “Where's Polly?” “Miss Lopp has gone to her room. She will be down apap. Do you wish to see her on very important busin “Well, rather. But if you have any word for her, why n't T taicesit?” i ‘Oh, 1 guess we'd better see her.” “I hope you won't persuade her to go away.” h, you have become friends, 1 take it.” ; devoted friends. “Nice gir” said the man, se, but—" She is not coarse, si No? All right, then, T thought she was. Don't know very much about wo- men myself, put I thought sbe was a littic course. “I should think, “A Nttle ec sir, that you would strive to be more of a gentleman than to call her coayse,. She is the roblest and fure in the world.” 2,.Never saw her tried Is that stamping around upstairs?” ‘ell made. no answer, and they sat In si- ence. After a while they heard Polly oming down the stairs. The. stair door opened and out steppedga man. Nell ut- tered a sharp ery and covered her fa with her hands. Ths man approached her, and bending ever hor, said: “I was a cun- Aidate for admission into that club, and the test was that 1 should be a woman for sho sobbed, “and F have trld you that. I should not have told Mhy he replied, still bending over her; and you have shown me purest mind and the noblest heart that.man has ever found.” He d further over and whis- pered to her, and the face that she turned up to his was radiant with a confused hap- piness. Just at this me old Aim stalked in, “Where's Pol he asked. Why, what's the meaning of all this? Hah?’ You don't mean——" “I have b Poll; a man sald, bowing to him; “but now I am George’ Hadle and this daughter of yours, the sweetest woman thai lives, is to be my wife. “A man, hah? A man from fust to lost? Well, say, now, you feller, | knowed it all the time, and I wos Jest waitin’ to see how long you could keep it_up, I've been mayor of this town too long to be fooled, I tell you, hah?” oY aia