The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 6, 1903, Page 5

the other ce became crosser. use hours a Filiberto?” . what is the u as well wear hopes!” P Se- nness made me than you 4 of the re jias i n orm ndida, adjusting her comb, T all and smiled. 3 e “Ah, Madre mia, how blind you are in spite of your lynx eyes,” she said, and took & note from her bosom. “Contrary to custom, I send this to you instead of to your mother,” she re-res. ith satisfaction. “For it is your answer I desire. Will you accom- pany me to the fandango? If not, I ;hdln’to 1'0 Sdlnla Barbara on business, or the fandango without y; i hold no charms.” R - Below was what nis wo for—the v girl in Califor- her black of the No member of the family had Reen the messenger ride up and deliver this nots to Candida. Nor had any one THE FUNDAY CALL. o IR ALY TIHE ZIGI 75 OF THE ISSION COULD. BE JEEL this ankle is still weak threw me, and I dare not dance.” fandan one know that ge to a ghe sent certain ‘“no- “The eoast dante is going clear. The Coman- . to Santa Barbara, so he will never know that I go to the danr:. Father will let me go with you for the once, for he thinks I have no_other invitati Yaxe Candida’s conscience shook off fib, as a duck shakes off water. There was ;‘1”; ::'lr‘!uu on h brow as she made erself the ball. Her father had given a grumbling “ves" to Filiberto’s invitation; he had refused over and over to let the girl accom. pany this young man, |THE MAN AMONG T poverty, but now pique played its part, and as he realized that the Com- after all his promising attentions he resolved that she should not be left at “T don't care—take her to the dance if you want to,” he sald to Filiberto curses on the head of the Coman- dante. They had gambled together 1803, by T. C. McClure.) T was a cold winter in school district No. 4, township of Ingham, county of Hillsdale, but they were making L pretty warm for tk hool ma’am just the same. Miss Lee had o me from a city firty way, bringing the very best recor jations, and had taken hold f the school to the satisfaction of trouble was that she 1 and good looking. She & good looking any farmer girls in the their piain faces, rtnight had passed aughters were Iy woman she married or help being jealous of a ne. In the society of a city one has the sense to conceal gs, but in the country she at- ng-bee on purpose to ind. be said to have started ' n Driggs, chairman of the schoc mmittee. He was a widower, 60 years oid, and had been courting the Widow Hastings, five years his junior, but what does he do but offer the schoolma’'am his calloused Band and aged heart before she hed fairly got the school organized. She promptly refused him, but the Widow Hestings was her enemy from that time on, and Uncle Ben heard her gossiped about without coming to her defense. In the course of six weeks Miss Lee had turned down widower and two young men. and tras made more enemies. ments were in danger of being broken because Jim, Joe or John would insist that the teacher was the daintiest daisy that ever called up a olass in geography. The girl knew that she was making enemies and being slurred and slandered, but as it was not her fault and she had no remedy she main- tained silence. This subjected her to criticism again. As Hannah Jones re- i’r:serked at Mrs. Doolittle’s quliting bee: “If she isn’t trying her best to cap- ture & man of some sort why don't she come right out and say she wouldn’t marry the best one that ever wore boots, same as I do? I tell you she is sly and deceitful, and she’ll sep- arate more'n one lovin' couple before she gets through with it.” Before New Year's came there was only one marriagable man for four miles around who hadn’t offered him- self at least once. That was Abner Joy, & man of 30, who had a farm of his own and a sister for a housekeeper. He had admired, but so secretly and mod- estly that Miss Lee had not suspected. one mistrusted his feelings until one evening when there was a paring bee at Uncle David Saunders’. The gathering included over forty people, old and young, and as it was Miss Lee's week to board with the Saunders’ she ought to have been there. She was not, however, and, though the night had come on with a storm, nobody worried about the schoolma'am — not even Abner. When he failed to find her there he argued that she had stopped at a nearer place. In the gathering were several girls and women with spiteful tongues, and several young was busy In a moment. It was noticed that Abner Joy turned red and white and hitched about uneasily, but it was quite ten minutes before he stood up amd sald: “I see that Miss Lee is not present he}:’e this evening. Does any one know Why 2" “She’'s probably hunting for a man,” replied one of the girls with a giggle, Wwhile Joe Allbright led the haw-haw- ing among the young men. “Yes, she may be,” said Abner, as he looked around with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, “but will Joe All- bright, Tom Smart and Willlam Hall step outdoors with me for a moment?” They followed him out, wondering what was up, but they were not long left in doubt. He turned upon them and gave the whole three a beautiful drubbing before they hardly knew that a fight was on. Then he called out Uncle John Steadman, widower, and Henry Danforth, old bachelor, both af whom had been turned down, and shrdklng his fist under their noses he sald: “Mind you, this talk about Miss Lee has got to stop. The next man who even sneers at her has got to settle for it with me.” That didn’t complete his work, how- ever. He entered the house and sald to the women: “A vretty pack of wolves you are! You are gossiping about a woman whose shoes you are not fif to tie. It's gossip, slander and lies, and every one of you know it, and I tell you F'll not stand any more of it. I can’t roll you in the snowdrifts, because you are women, but I can and will hold your weak and discouraged to ce the storm and didn’t care much whether any one came for her or not. ‘Miss Lee, I've come to take you home for the night,” sald Abner, as he entered the building. “But why do you come?” she asked In surorise. “Because I have constituted myself your champion. There won't be any more gossip. I'm ashamed of the peo- ple, but you'll see a change to-mor- row.” ““Wh—what have you done?” she ask- ed between her sobs. “Licked three or four men, promised to lick three or four more, and told a dozen women what I thought of them,” he laconically replied. “But you'll—you'll"— “Ask you to marry me? No, I won't —I'll be hanged if I do! Come along with me and we’ll pick up sister SBarah at Saunders".” “And you won't—won't"— “Talk love? Not a word. I know you are ready to throw up the school and go back home, but don't give up. I've got my fists toughened up and want to use 'em often.” And when the summer days came and she closed her school'with kind words from all, she grasped the hand of Ab- ner Joy and said: “‘Abner, I have met a man down here ' one—and I hate to say good-by to him.” “Then why don’t you come back and let him do some more fighting for you?"* he asked. - “J—I guess I will, if you—you want me to,” she replied, as she drove away, and three months later she did. shadow, John Mollett consulted old Sextus Sears regarding a suitable title for the little stranger. Now she was 20, round and rosy, and laughed nearly all the time, barring church services, slumber and funerals. At all of which she was composed, be- ing broken to the first and last named to an unnatural degree. Damocles, whose common sobriquet among jocular youths of his acquaint- ance may be better imagined than writ- ten, had suffered for two years in a state of bashful suspense, longing yet not daring to chance the severance of cordial friendship by a declaration of his consuming passion. He knew Happy would laugh. That could not be borne. No, it were best to wait, pine and grow thin. Miss Mollett observed this, smiled broadly, and mentally dubbed the un- fortunate a fool. Possibly a passing thought of his nickname broadened the smile. She, herself, always addresszd this bashful lover as Mr. Sears. Th's was proper and dignified, but had she once departed from grace, Damocles would have greeted it as a step In the direction of deliverance. He had had many chances, being high in the mirthful affections of Happy, who enfoyed his quiet ways and rare bursts of levity, deeming herself silly with: her well-nigh uncontrollable mer- riment. After all, she guessed Damocles Sears was the one, if only he would brace up. If not, well, she should not wait too ing bell; they hid laln side b their cups when the aguardiente plenty; they had corrupted California politics hand in hand for many a y “Now the man Is j & my daughter is he?” Candida tucked the note in her bosom ag: It would be fun to show it to Filiberto when they had a little t alone. “Tell Fillberto I'll be ready in a min- ate,” she called as she heard t! 3 hoofs of Mia. She moved the comb to {he o then back to its original pos hind her ear she fastened a gr son rose. “You are lovelier than et Fil berto whispered as she gave him a ture she was. Then e mantilla cver her her face and the glimpse of the pi she threw a w head and shou rose peep out from the snowy lac: “Good evening, Mia,” she said, pat- ting the 1t orse’s nose. It gave a ny, for it knew Candida er and mother came from the house and sald a surly good evening to the handsome young Spaniard. To the he was ent objectionable In th: had no pr , no influential fatk nothing b cleverness and courage to depend upon. Furthermore they strongly suspected their daughter of preferring him to the shrewd old po- ltical fox to whom they were trying to marry her. “Permit me to thank you both for In- trusting your daughter to my care to- night,” he sald blithely, In spite of frowns that greeted him. Candida patted the restless pony again. “Are you In a hurry, Mia?" she sald. “Come, Fillberto, we must start Mia says she will not wait.” The girl put her little red-slippered foot into the stirrup, Flliberto helped her as she sprang, and she was perched aloft in the gala day saddle, all carved and be-silvered. With a bow to the old people he sprang up behind her, as was the Californian custom. He reached forward to adjust the reins. Mila fumed to be off. But the word had not been given when a clatter ef hoofs sounded beyond the house. All turned to see who the arrival was. The hoofs clattered more sharply as the gallop slowed. Up rode the Coman- dante. At the sight of Candida about to ride away he turned white with anger, as his way was. “Ah, senorita, may I inquire who your physician may be, that your ankle heals so quickly?” The father and mother stood silent, looking from one to the other. Suspi- cion, fear, rage wers creeping upom them. It was no time to parry, the girl knew. “There is but one physician who can heal every hurt,” she replied. “He Love. I am in his charge. Off, Mia. And the pony was away with them. “You mean {t?” sald Filiberto. She only tossed him a teasing laugh now. “How Mia flies!™ she sald, dodg- ing his question. “There are the lights of the fandango.” Far away glittered the brilllant lights in a great ranch house. Suddenly the road divided. At the end of one branch were the lights of the gay ball; at the end of the other, one lamp shone from the Mission. “Listen!” sald Filiberto, and stopped the horse. A strange blending of sounds came to their ears; guitar and violin sounded faintly from the left: from the right came the faraway chime of the Mission bell. “To the left lies the dance,” he said slowly. “After it—home again, a storm of wrath, you and I separate fo 9 “Yes,” she sald, thre merrimen: out of her eyes. “To the right,” he went on, “Father Juan, our old priest and friend. He knows us and loves us. He will marry us to-night.” “Oh!” she cried with a little shudder. hall it not be the right road?” “Oh—I'm afraid—I can’t—" “Say the right.” She hesitated, perplexed. Then she eried, “I know, I'll let Mia decide. We shall see which way she chooses.” She pushed his hands from the reins, drew Mia to the middle of the fork and stopped her. “Now go, Mia,” she said. The horse flung up her head and zal loped into the dark road om the rizht. “Mia, you shall feed on sugar lumps for the rest of your life,” Filiberto said. It was not for many years that Can- dida made a confession to her husband. “1 tweaked the right rein,” she owned then. “I was so afrald Mla might make a mistake.” Elliot WalKer others. whose fault was andante was not Inviting Candida home. Yorba. Then he went off muttering many a time from vespers to the morn- - L . men folks responsible.” HEM---By Irvine Pardee| Haif an hour later he was inquiring HEI ,D BY A HAIR--OBY at Taylor's if Miss Lee was there, and <+ again he stopped at Riker's. But he . d ., did not find her until drove up to and old men who wanted to “get even,” the schoolhouse. She sat there alone HEN Happy was long. There were plenty of Bovarer o and so, n}\er an hour or two, when with her things on, and the open stove ushered into this “Perhaps—" Happy giggled, “If—if she gage- Miss Lee's name came up Innuendo door was her candle. She hu}!elt too world of light and could accidentally have something hap- 2 pen, maybe he might see how she felt about it. No need of his acting afraid to sit up with her. Now, if he would only come in to-night, with her parents quite ready for bed. It was lovely on the bench under the maple trees—a moon, too. Was that his step—yes—and going by.” “Mr. Sears.” called Happy, “is that you? “Thought the folks were going to bed,” coming in halting- “And of course you wouldn't dare to visit with me out here in the moon- lght,” chuckled Miss Mollett. “Oh, come on In and sit with me. I was just thinking about you.” “And laughing, I'll bet,” returned her lover tremulously. But he sat down on the end of the settee, with a faint sidelong glance of admiration. ‘Wel], T was—a little bit. You're so funny. Move up here by me, and I'll tell you.” Mr. Sears drew a long breath and hitched along slowly. “Nearer,"” sald the girl, “right up here in the shade. I don’t want every one to see us. Father and mother will be peekin® out, listenin’. If they don't call me In we can sit here ever so long. and I never et a chanee to talk with you lately. Seems to me you have mighty Nttle to tell me about what is going on with your folks, and what you hear down at the village, nowadays.” Damocles gave a tiny grunt of apol- ogy, his heart beating rapidly as his arm touched her plump one. “Haven't been feelin’ mueh like talkin' to any one,” he muttered. “I'm sort of cross this spring — and — and — wore out. Laugh if you want to. What was it?" Happy drew close, her lips to his ear. “I was only smiling about something,” she whispered. “Well—what 1" “Just wonderin’ what you would say if some day I should unexpectedly call out when you were going by, ‘Hullo— Oh, I guess I won't say it—I wouldn t, of course—your nickname, you know.” “I wish to gracious you woulld,” sald Damocies, savagely. “Anything’'s bet- ter than Mr. Sears from you, Happy. He sat stilled by his temerity. waiting for an outburst of mirth, but none came. Only a queer silence. Had he offended her? “Time 1 went,” he groaned. “Always sayin' the wrgns thing.” “My! there's a bat!™ cried Happy. with a squeak of apparent friiht “Don't let him get Jn my hair! Has he gone?" Her curly head was wriggling against the upper buttons of the vest of Da- He held it close for a second a long qui then re- leased her. *“Yes, he's gone,” he bad to scare you so. I've got a haif caught in one of your buttons get it off. Ow! Can_vou wr I'm heid fast, Da- mocles. There, Ill put my head down— so—you won't mind, do you? See if it will come loos ‘The man's fi fumd'xd at the golden th off,” he said hoarsely. our head now —but—b 11 stay there forever.” “] wish so too,” murmured tha sirl “It's where I want it to rest, dear.”