The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 14, 1900, Page 1

i VI /2 LN .| o o T TN N S S AT R R illie Young, boy, that’s v to hear her o where green v View road w huddling these d: w s are striding. Go far- tk ruthless guffaw that ar engine healing air and see its d s a clean sky. Then in a u and you must walk three View blocks, and just & b the hill beyond the £ v mite of a clean white is e Young, the tomboy of nto the parlor. It is a parlor of id family portaits on t up in line around the roached the room def- ere she s tfully, “and I he's tryin’ to see to the north limb d dor ang by her h see a big hoarse voice responded, “What?” to see you, Lillie dear.” LYY= HUNTING Wit - =owvwZ_ “Sh-sh! Never mind. Come into the parlor.” t never mind, an’ I won’t ‘sh-sh.” Who is it, There was some whispering, some grunting, then louder remonstrance. “I don’t want to see the com- p'ny. I tell you I haven’t got time. After I get through hangin’ by my heels I've got to go and dig that posthole. Who'll do it, I'd like to know, if I don’t? You can’t get your new gate hung till the post holes are dug,’can you?” In the midst of all which Lillie entered and gave me a cloudy reception. Fifteen, they say. Taller already by a half head than the timid, toddling little foster mother, and there is time to grow more. She is long and spare and sinuous, firm footed and clear eyed and ruddy checked with Saxon ruddiness. She wore a close, short skirt, heavy shoes, clinging sweater and soft hat pulled low. She stood ‘before me in a mood of lurking mutiny and said, “Yes, ma'am,” in the voice of.an angry con- vict. But I did not ask her how old she was nor whether she had any little brothers and sisters nor even what she got for Christmas. If conditions had been a little more favorable I think she and I might have_got along in time. B “Sit down and talk to the lady, Lillie dear,” said Mrs. Young. “Aw-r," said Lillie. It might have been the word of a dog whose bone is in danger. But she did sit down and leaned her elbows on the sill and sunk her chin into her hands and glared savagely at the boy playing sand pies outside. “Your auntie- was just showing me this picture of you when yéu were a little girl,” I remarked casually from the depths of the family album. “It must have been takés ages ago.” “H'm. That's awful old. Taken when I lived at the lighthouse.” “Lighthouse? What lighthouse?” #Point Conception.” “Was it fun there?” “You bet it was fun. That's where I learned “to shoot.. Papa Young gave me a rifle and we used ‘o climb over the rocks and hunt all day. We'd fish, too. 1 was only 8 years old whén we left there. Sometimes I guess I'd like to be back an’ have some more fun with him. He's dead now.” “An’ that's his picture, lookin' as if he was talkin’ to you,” put in Mrs. Young. I wriggled secretly and sought relief by asking if the shooting was good thereabouts. “Bad. The ducks don’t fly, an’ I don't shoot unless they do. Sometimes it's pretty good over to Lake Merced, but not now. Lake Merced’s back here just a little way, you know. That's the only place I go 1o shoot.” “Lillie won't shoot a duck except on the wing, That's why we ain’t havin’ so many duck dinners just now. But she's a good shot. Go get your rifle and show the lady, Lillie.” “Aw-r.” She glared into the outdoors once more. We left the rifle subject drop. “What do you find to do around here in the place of fishing?” “Aw, there’s ridin’. I ride bareback a lot.” “She can jump a horse that's runnin’ in the field an’ ride off bareback on it.” “She’s knawn how 0. lasso anything from pigs to < OIGGIrIG . POST-HOYLES. horses ever since she was born,” said Mrs. Young. “Well, you can.” “That’s nothin".” “V I guess it's a good deal. Don't you say so?” Yes, I said so. “An’ she can box, too. Papa Young taught her to box. He thought a lot of her, an’ she did of him— didn't you? She's never had any ular lessons, but’ she'd like to have. Wouldn't you? he hasn’t got any gloves, but she can use 'em a little. She boxes with the knuckles bare, though.” “Look here, now, I ain't goin’ to have people think I'm a fighter. T ain’t. I don’t hit anybody that don’t hit me first. They yell at me an' I have to hit 'em.” “Why do they yell at you?” “Aw, I don't know. ’'Cause they're mean. ater, maybe.” there's nothing the matter with that sweater. bicycle sweater, isn't it?"” I was sure it was a bicycle sweater. wheel? “She can, but she hasn’t got one. She'd like to, though. You'd ride a wheel if you had one, wouldn't you, Lillie?” “What do you s'pose I'd do? corner of the parlor to look at?” “Well, there, of course not.” A feeble little dog whimpered at the door. Dickson,” Lillie said. “Come in, poor little He’s sick,” she explained: She picked him up in her lanky arms and soothed his’ sorry feelings. “He'll be all right pretty soon— soon’s I nurse him up,” she said. “He's got a pretty bad foot, but I know how to take care of it. Don't I, Dickie? Poor little Dick! Did it hurt him so bad?” “It's time for you to set the table, Lillie.” “T don’t want to set the table. Didn’t I tell you I have to dig that post hole? I can’t bother about tables.” “She does hate to work in the house. She unsed to like school pretty well, though. She was smart in school, but when she got through the sixth grade she quit. She likes :to run outdoors, an’ I hate to check her. I say there’s worse things she might be doin’. There's Lola, Mr. Templeford's only child, mind you; she went clear through the eighth grade an’ now she’s slingin’ beer in a dive. So there’s worse things than "Cause Did she ride a Stand it up in the “Aw, it's Dick. runnin’ loose outdoors. “Don't ‘see why they should yell at me just because I do.” “Do they, “Yes, the; in" home.” “Then what do you do?” “I give 'em what they need when they get too fresh. See this hat? It looks bad to-day, but it had_some trimmin’ on yesterday. A boy swiped it off and climbed up on the house with it. Then he yelled.” Vhat did you do “What did I do? H'm. I made him come down. What did you think I'd do?” “There, don’t speak so rough. How you do talk, Lillie “Aw, get out.” “There, hear that. But I hate to put any restraint upon her,” Mrs. Young ventured timidly. “Aw,” said Lillie. “I ain’t rough. They say a lot o' things about me that ain’t se. I'll lick "em if they say I'm rough.” As I snapped the album shut a loose picture fell to the floor. I picked it up. It was a hali-tone-cut from some magazine, a copy of one of Sir Joshua's ladies of long ago. “A man sent that in a letter to auntie. He said that was how I'm goin’ to look some day when I grow up.” I looked at the majesty, the calm, the commanding gentleness I looked at the lanky, jersey-clad figure opposite, the rude hat jerked forward out of shape. It was absurd. But when I looked at the real eyes and the picture eyes I was startled. They were so alike that the one’s might have served as models for the other’s. “Do you think you will grow to look like her?” “I don’t know. She’s a lot prettier'n 1 am. She’s awful pretty. Don't you think so?” It was so wistful, pathetic. She will “lick "em” be- cause they call her rough and so lead them on to call her rougher. And all the time she will steal into the coM little straight-lined parlor when nobody is around and peep at the beautiful, dainty lady in the album and wonder if she will ever grow to be like that. And I wondered what kind of a man he was that sent the picture and what he thought when he sent it? Did he mean it for a cruel, taunting joke? Or' did he really notice the eyes? SARAH COMSTOCK. really?” yell ‘tomboy,” and they run after me com- E) i