SHORT STORES Melted by the Snow

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXX, Issue 97, 16 December 1904, Page 5

SHORT STORES Melted by the Snow

By A. E. Obpen.

Grandpa Applegate tied his head up in a red pocket-handkerchief — a sure sign of bad weather outside. Hiß headgear was a sort of weather-chart. If it was fine and sunny, Grandpa Applegate woro a large flapping Panama hat, well pushed down over his bald head. If it was raining, he wore a small round felt hat that didn't protect him from anything; when it snowed and blew hard, then Grandpa Applegate tied his head up in a scarlet pocket-handkerchief and sallied forth in the grey swirling storm to drive home the cows, looking like a premature poppy bobbing wildly about in the far pasture. Before going forth on this errand on the day when our story opens, he poked his scarlet head into the kitchen where Grandma Applegate was fussing about preparing supper. ' Wai, wal, mother, dre'ful heavy snowstorm comin' on, I guess. Wish the little gal was safe to 5 home/ ' She'll mos' likely come back with Stephen/ replied Grandma. ' Stephen won't be one mite o' use in a reg'lar downright snowstorm. He'd try an' keep his ban's waim, and not git his curled moustache stiffened out/ replied Grandpa with immense scorn. 'If that little gal had wit worth a red cent she'd take on t« Guy. He's a man for a snowstorm, now/

' La ! father, let the young folks be. You can't make a woman fall iv love the way you want,' replied Grandma, looking up at his worried and puckered old face with an amused expression.

' They axe powerful contrary, anyhow. I'd liefer hey a wild colt to drive thaa try an' make a pretty gal act sensible.'

Grandpa Appiegate shut the door with severity, and tramped oil to drivo his cows up to the barn. He shook his head many times, and spoke again and again to himself. He could not got over the perversity of his ' little gal,' She was an indefinite sort of relation — the daughter of a distant cousin — and had been sent to reside with Mr. and Mrs. Applegate while she attended the College of Smyrna. She called the old pair • grandpa and grandma,' because, as she said, it wouldn't seeia so lonesome if she did, and it "was the first time she had been away from home.

Hattie Weeks, the ' little gal ' in question, was bright, affectionate, fairly clever, and entirely wilful. Just the sort of girl, in fact, to twine herself around an old mar's heart. Grandpa Appleg»te "was tier first captive and her most devoted slave. Sho was pretty, and just nineteen years old, so it wasn't; likely he would be her only one. Smyrna College is a well-known centre of learning, where some two hundred young men and women pursue the paths of wisdom together. They are for the most part thoroughly in earnest, keenly interested in their work, and very anxious to acquire knowledge. But thej are also human. With the pursuit of the higher learning is occasionally mixed up a pursuit of a different A pretty girl does aot escape admiration at Smyrna because her class-mates are engaged in learning Latin, Greek, or even Hebrew. Experience has shown that learning is not a bar to falling in love. So Hattie Weeks attracted attention for her prettiness, and then admiration for her winsomeness. From among her admirers two particularly stood forth. These were Stephen WellsJ who was lodging in the next house to the Applegates, and Guy Hamilton. Guy was the son of the neighbour across the road ; he was a tall, strong fellow with square shoulders and equare jaw, denoting strength and firmness, a keen grey eye, and a pleasant mouth. He did not attend the College, but he attended to the farm instead, and kept it in fine condition, and maintained his old blind father in abundance and happiness. He was a model son, and a prime favourite of Grandpa Applegate, -who had seen him grow up from a boy.

Now when Grandpa saw what a sweet girl Hattie was, he said to himself, or rather to Grandma, which was, of course, exactly the same thing — • She'll make just the little wife for Guy. I must see to that.' Grandma warned him against the folly of trying to make a young woman fall in love to order, but Grandpa was not to be turned from his pet project. Poor Guy fell headlong into the trap, and was desperately in love before Hattie had settled down to the autumn work. When she came back from college, Guy nearly always contrived to be somewhere in the neighbourhood of his front gate, so as to see her go by, and to get, at all events, a nod from her. She, the sly little puss, pretended to be oblivious of everything except her studies. Grandpa sung Guy's praises by the hour — a most foolish proceeding — until Hattie blurted out one day that she hated 'good young men.' Grandpa was so utterly upset by this destructive opinion that he could only stare and say, ' Wai I never !' in the most helpless manner, until Hattie patted him on the back, kissed his smooth old cbeek, and said she doted on good old men.

But Grandpa's real trouble didn't begin until Stephen Well 3 appeared on the scene. He was fair and slender, had white hands, and a, beautiful curl to his moustache. He came from Sandusky, and could write verses. This youth boarded at the next farm, as we have said, and since he also attended the college it fell out that he and Hattie nearly always walked together to and from their lectures. It was nearly two miles from the Applegates to the college, so that Stephen and Hattie had ample opportunities of exchanging opinions on many subjects. Guy's nose was out of joint, and poor Grandpa was in a sea of trouble. Thus the autumn term wore on, and the winter set in with unusual severity even for Smyrna. In the very middle of the coldest weather, Hattie, led on by Stephen, who had written an ode to a butterfly, took up the subject of ' Lepidoptera/ and they both became very keen about it. The young man found it necessary to run in to tho Applegates nearly every evening in order to talk the new subject over in all its phases. Guy retired in miserable despair, and never came near the house. Grandpa was furious. He resolved upon strong measures. Accordingly one morning as Guy was pitching down hay for his horses from the loft on to the wide and roomy threshing floor, while the eager animals in their stalls close by were trumpeting soft rambles of satisfaction, Grandpa opened the side door and was almost blown in by the keen northern blast. ' Guy, come down. I've got an idee !' The young man climbed down from the loft and stood leaning on his pitchfork, with bits of hay sticking in his thick, black hair. 'Guy, you've got to jess lam up all 'boat them let-us-adopt-em bugs,' said Grandpa with breathless eagerness. ' What ?' said Guy, puzzled. • Let-us-adopt-em bugs. Thafs what does it. They don't tftlfc 'bout nothia* else. Sho'a reg*lar sot on 'em. "Wish to gracious they was all smoked out, but they ain't, and you've got to lara all 'bout 'em too, so as to be able to talk even with Stephen Wells. He set her at them plaguey fosse's.'

'She hardly looks at me now/ said Guy despairingly. •Jess sorter talk gran* 'bout them bugs, an' she'll listen straight 'nough/ said Grandpa coaxingly. 'That's what Stephen djea, an' you're worth six dozen Stephen Wellses.' • I'd like to thrash him within an inch of his iitV said Guy savagely. 'No, I dou't mean that,' he added brokenly. 'He don't do anything bup what's right. If it wasn't for poor old blind dad I think I'd shoot myself.' He gave a great sob of misery, dashed his rough hand across his eyes, and climbed up into the hay-loft, whence he began furiously to pitch down hay ; while Grandpa took off his hat and flung it on the ground, saying — ' Drat them bugs !' That evening, when Hattie and Stephen had their heads very unnecessarily close together under the lamp poring over a book, Grandpa, with immense diplomacy, sidled up. He had his spectacles on his nose, and he looked very wise indeed.

Little gal, jess let me look at them Let-us adopt-'eru bugs,' he said airily. ' The what, grandpa ?' exclaimed Hattie.

* Let-us-adopt-'eni bugs ; gueas I'll lam 'em up, too, They're mighty 'cute an 5 interestic'.' ' Oh, don't mind him/ said Stephen, ' he's talking 1 about what ho doesn't understand. I presume he refers to the Lepidoptera.' He leaned back in his chair and laughed insolently. Grandpa looked embarrassed, and Hattie flushed angrily. ' You shall read about them with me. I love to read anything to you,' sho said, springing up from the table and going affectionately up to the old man. Stephen smothered his laughter and tried to resume his studios of the Lepidoptera, but to no purpose. ITattie was icily uninterested in everything ho had to say, and would give her attention to no one but Grandpa. There was nothing for it but for Stephen to take his departure, which he did shortly afterwards. Grandpa observed to Grandma triumphantly that night : ' Them insec's is some valuo a'ter all. They got rid o' him earlier nor ever before.' The next morning aa Hattie passed Stephen's piaco of residence, he came out by the little side gate as usual to join nor tor the morning's walk to the college, but she had not torgiven him, and when lie

was foolish enough to laugh again at poor old Grandpa, she fairly flared up, and tho pair had a regular quarrel, so that when they arrived in the class-room Hattie'a cheeks were flaming rod, and Stephen was twisting that curled, moustache Of hid. Now it Fas on the sarao day when tiattie and Stephen had quarrelled about Grandpa's mistakes, and after the ' little gal ' had roundly told the poet she did not prize learning half so much as a good honest faithful heart, that the snowstorm came on, against which Grandpa had fortified himself with his scarlet handkerchief. Fine flakes of hard snow began to fall early in the afternoon, and the sky became dark and thick-looking. A. keen wind blew from tho north-west, making one take quick short breaths.

Grandpa's love quickly took fright, and he began, as we have seen, to get into a fuss about Hattio, long before it was time for her to come home from the college, but when her usual hour had passed and still she did not return, he could bear it no longer.

"With his head still tied up in his red handkerchief, Grandpa started off to seek Stephen Wells. That young man, in the worst possible temper, was sitting over his stove warming his slippered feet after a hard walk from the college against the galo. Too preoccupied with his anxiety about Hattie to notice the niceties of etiquette, Grandpa burst into the room, and without any preliminaries, said :

' "Where's my little gal ? What have you done with her ?'

' Keally, Mr. A.pplegate, I don't know what you mean. Pray be seated. I can't •ask you to take off your hat, because I see you don't wear one/ said Stephen, ivith studied insolence of manner.

' Tes, yes; I know all you mean,' said Grandpa hurriedly; 'but I haint got time to get offended. "Where's my little gal ? I want to know why she haint come homo according to custom ?'

• I don't feel responsible for Miss Weeks' movements/ replied Stephen in his very haughtiest manner, in the hope of embarrassing his visitor. • She did not return with me.'

' Where did she go ? This ain't no sort o' weather for a little gal to be out alone, an' night comin' on, too.'

' True, the night is wild. Won't you be seated ?' *

' Seated ? No !' thundered Grandpa with unexpected vehemence. ' I'm goin' to look for a man to go an' get my little gal an J bring her home. You ain't much more nor a wax doll as 'ud spoil in weather like this.'

With which remark he stumped away, leaving Stephen with a sting to his vanity and a fear that be had not put down the old man nearly so much as he had intended.

Grandpa hurried to Guy, the man of whom he had spoken to Stephen. ' She hain't come home/ he said simply ; a pathetic instinct told him that Guy would understand.

' What has Stephen done with her ?' said Guy, in a sudden fury.

' He s a-sittin' front of the stove, warming his feet, and doa't know nothin' 'bout her. Hain't seen her since he left college.' ' I'll go for her,' said Guy simply. He took a lantern in case it got dark before he was back and strode into the whistlings storm, while Grandpa trotted home with a sense of relief. There were two roads to the college; one through Frogtown, where the Irish lived — the shortest way, and one by the backwoods, a full half-mile further, but much the pleasanter in fine weather. Guy's long legs took him to the college in what must have been absolutely recordtime, and he sent a message to one of Hattie's class-mates and best friends, who boarded at the college, which brought her down in a great fright.

Know where Hattie was ? No, ahe didn't. She left class at half-past three in company with Nellie Currier, t>ut further the friend didn't know. And such an awful night. Oh dear ! Oh dear ! what ever—

But Guy was oJS to the Curriers, and didn't wait to hear the end of the lamentations. It was getting rapidly dark, and the wind was blowing more fiercely than ever. However, it was only a quarter of a mile to the Curriers, and Qxxj tramped swiftly along. Mr. Currier and her daughter lived alone in a little isolated house on the backwoods road from the college to the Applegates. What was Guy's consternation to hear that Hattie, in spite of all entreaties, had started home fully two hours before.

• Two hours V said Guy, "with a gasp, as the full meaning of the situation flashed into his mind ; and then hurriedly — ' here, light my lantern, and give me some more matches. Sh9 J s lost her way in this wild storm.'

The two women talked eagerly to him, made a hundred suggestions, none of which he heard or heeded, so absorbed was he in the one thought of Hattie, his poor little Hattie, being out in this wild storm. It was quite dark now. The road lay for the most part between wooden fences, but later on it widened out by

Fogle's farm, the fence disappeared, and it was quite possible to walk in among the trees without hindrance. It was chere that Hattie had got lost, Guy felt sure, being unable to keep the road in the teeth of such a gale as this. He set out at a swift pace, swinging his lantern from sido to side and peering with lovesharpened eyes out into the storm. Many times he went to the edge of the road, for he seemed to see a little crouching figure in every fence-corner. The wind grew fiercer, and the snow stung him as it was driven against his face. To think of poor, tender Hattie out in such a storm as this, all alone and night coming on. He shouted ' Hattie ! Hattie !' with all the strength of his powerful lungs, but the wind caught the sound and whirled it away derisively on its storm-driven wings. Looking carefully into the fence-corners took time. Drifts began to rise on the sheltered side of every bush and treestunip. He made very slow progress, and had not yet reached th© beginning of the woods. A great horror clutched at his heart and almost froze its beatings, in spite of the fierce energy he had to use in order to make head against the gale. What if little Hattie was in one of those fast-piling drifts behind him ? He stopped in an agony of doubt. Should he turn back and search again ? But while he would be searching there the drifts would be piling up in front of him. No ; Hattie couldn't bo behind him — she must be still in front.

' Hattie ! Hattie !' he cried in an agony, and the storm tore away the words from his lips before they were fairly opoken. Then he thought what a useless torture he was subjecting himself to : Hattie must be at home by now, having been delayed by the sfcorza, of COUrso. He would have met her had he como by this way instead of going through Frogtown. The suffocating horror of his first fear passed away, and he went forward again. Nevertheless, he still looked as carefully as before in all the fencecorners. He reached the edge of the wood. He was beginning to find it hard to make his way, and once or twice fee stumbled into a rut, and sunk up to hi 3 knoas iv a . e now-drift. Ilis lantern went out and he lighted it again with dilHculty. Just at the edyo of the wood were three big elm trees, close together, aud in the earlier and happier days of Hattie's residence at Grandpa Appiogate's, Guy had often walked with' her to the Three Elms, a well-known landmark on the backwoods road. Since Stephen came, however, he had not been there. Now through the storm he perceived the towering bulk of the elms, and he knew where he was. For some vague reason Guy lefc the road at this spot and walked to the three elms. There was a good deal of shelter on the lee-side of their huge stems, and the snow was drifting in sharp-edged ridges away from them. Guy swung his lantern high over his head.

A glint of light on red snow struck his eye. But snow was not red, it was white. Hattio's hood wa3 red

•Hattie! Hattio ! Are you there ?' No answer; but in another moment the lantern had showed a faintly red. something over the snow leaning against the tree trunk. Down on his knees, feverishly tearing back the fast-piling drift, Guy's hands felt the little huddled heap close against the tree. ' Hattie, Eattie, my darling ! Rouse up. It is Guy.' He pulled her to her feet ; he shook her, and all the while kept shouting ' Hatti c Hattie !'

' I was just resting & minute/ she said at length, faintly ; ' I got co tired in the wind.'

' You are freezing to death, child. Wake up !' He shook her until her very teeth rattled.

' I am not a bit sleepy/ said Hattie with feeble irritation at this fierce rousing, ' only tired.'

Guy put bis arm around her and forced her along in front of him. She kept stumbling and falliDg, and begged to be allowed to rest for a moment. But he was remorseless. On he pushed her, in spite of all his entreaty.

By and bye she began to weep piteously. • My hands and feet are paining mo so/ she said.

•My sweet darling, I'm so glad, answered Guy, who took her up in his arms and kissed her snow-corered face.

She cried more and more, but did not repel Guy's caresses.

' Never mind, dearest, it is all right ; it is the blood beginning to circulate again. I was afraid you had no feeling in your hands and feet. It is all right if they are hurting you. My poor, dear pet ; I'm so glad.'

The storm raged wiidlj around them, but Guy felt nothing of it for the loveglow at his heart. He talked lovanonsense to her in the intervals of battling 1 with the wind and the snow, and Hattie let him half carry her home.

' There's our little gal. I knowed Guy J ud get her/ said grandpa, dancing- excitedly around the pair, while grandma, with a whisk, began to sweep off the snow with such exuberance of zeal that she twice brought the broom right down over Guy's face and nearly scratched out his eyes.

Of course the whole story had to be gone over with minutest detail for the benefit of Grandpa, who wouldn't rest satised until he had heard all. Hattie was rolled up in shawls, and Guy couldn't think of her being allowed to move, so careful was he of her. 'He only shook me,' she said, ' as if I had been a rat ' A grave look came over Guy's face. 'My poor little one,' he said, ' I was terribly frightened. I thought I should never rouse you.' He took her wee hand and kiss«d it and Hattie blushed and looked shyly at Grandpa, who fairly gurgled with joy. When Guy at length went home, Grandpa wanted to know all about that other story that had originated in the storm, but Hattie said it hadn't begun in the snow-drift at all. She had always cared most for Guy the whole time, but he wouldn't understand.

Stephen was a horrid man : she never cared for him one least bit of a straw, not she. She only thought him intellectual and interesting, because he knew a lot about things. She didn't think so much of his learning, now, because he had a bad heart, and could make fun of the dearest and kindest human being on earth j ust because he made a little slip in pronunciation. She didn't care for the education which only hardened people's hearts, even if ih did make them quick to see other people's mistakes ; and so on and so forth, with many loving pats for Grandpa, who looked at her with eyes of twinkling delight.

That night Grandpa said to Grandma — ' Mother, ifs my 'pinion 't was them Let-us-adopt-em bugs did it, a'ter all.'

And who kno«rs if it wasn't ? For it was owing to the quarrel about that luckless word that Hattie walked home alone in the snowstorm, while Stephen went back by himself in a huff. And if Guy's shy reserve had'nt been ' melted by the snow/ as we have agreed to phrase it, who know 8 how it mightn't have ended ?