A PERFUMED PUPPY.

Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 68, 17 September 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

A PERFUMED PUPPY.

'I novor thought, Winnie, that you could be a coquette !' ' I'm not a coquette, John Parsons ! And I won't be called so by any man.' Winnie Warner drew up her pretty, slim form. Her cheeks burned like scarlet, and her soft blue eyes flashed indignantly at the tall young man who leaned up against the side of tho kitchen window. John Parsons was very angry with hor, but at the same time he thought lie had never seen any one so beautiful in all his life. ' If you're not a coquette, Winnie,' lio retorted, 'how does it happen that you are going up the mountain after mistletoe with Ferdinand Aliieon, instead of me !' Winnie tossed her pretty head. ' Did I promise to go with you ?' eaid she. ' But you always have done so in years past. It wouldn't be the same to me, Winnie, to go with any other girl. I couldn't enjoy it. Say you'll lot me be your oscourt, Winnie, for you must know, darling, how I love you!' • Don't talk nonsense, John,' she said. ' I have promised Mr. Allison to go with him, and there's an end of the matter.' • Hang Mr. Allison !' savagely muttered the lumberman. 'A perfumed puppy with patent leather boots, and a gilt-headed cane. What brings him here, I wonder ?' 'Well, if you must know,' saucily flashed back the girl, ' I suppose he comes to see me. Are you satisfied now? And, moreover, he is no puppy, John Parsons, even if he don't happen to. be six feet tall, with ahouldera as broad aa an elephant. He fished all last summer in Norway, and shot a polar bear off the coast of Kamstchatka the year before j and he iB the bravest hero I ever knew !' ' Humph !' commented Parsons. • Norway, eh ! And Kamstchatka ? -Well, I don't' know but that he showed wisdom in choosing a scone of operations that is sufficiently far away. I haven't many acquaintances in either of those, places, who can either verify or contradict his tales of flood and field.' ' Now you are unjust and base !' cried Winnie. ' Oh, John, I never could have thought that of you !' ' According to your own account,' said John, grimly, 'it don't much signify about my state of mind one way or the other.' And so this couple parted, in a highly electrio state. of the mental atmosphere, and the mistletoe-hunt-ing party went off without Mr. Parsons. 'It seems a shame not to have John along,' said Euretta Nichols, a bright little brunette, with cheekß like peaches, and eyeß like black glass beads. ' Let's stop for him.' But Mrs. Parsons,- John's mother, shook her head, saying — ' He went up the mountain before breakfast with his gun. Henry Brazier said there had been a bear Been somewhere near the Split Eocks ; and our red calf was found in the pasture yesterday with its throat all torn and mangled, and two of the widow Bartlett's sheep were killed last night ; so John took his gun and hunting-knife and went up to the rocks to look about him a little. A bear isn't a pleasant neighbour, you know.' At these tidings the young party stood irresolute for a few minutes. 'Nonsense!' cried Mr. Ferdinand Allison, waving his hat over his head. ' There are always reports of this sort afloat. And a wild beast, more or less — why, we are not children, to be frightened out of our senses by any such silly rumour.' Winnie Warner looked up at him with shyly brightening eyes. Here, she thought, was real courage. And she was almost inclined to be out of J>atience with the other village galants who had ventured to suggest that they should alter their original plans, and go mistletoe-hunting in some other direction. The day passed away, as such days do. The green, glassy clusters of mistletoe were gathered triumphantly ; the fire under Gray Cliffs was lighted; the hot coffee made; the apple turnovers and fried crullers eagerly devoured, and in the red stain of the wintry sunset the straggling groups were returning homewards. Winnie Warner aud Ferdinand Allison were among the last ; there came the crisp, crackling sound of sapless branches broken by heavy measured footsteps behind them. 'What is that?' cried Winnie. ' Ob, look, Ferdinand ! It's— a bear ! And he coming down here !' Ferdinand Allison took but one glance at the huge, shaggy object, dimly visible through a veil of leaf- • • less birches, on the slope above. ' Run !' he cried. ' 'Run, Winnie!' Winnie had taken but a few headlong steps, however, when her foot caught in the tangled roots of a wild grapevine, and she fell. Allison gave a scared upward look at the shaggy monster coming still nearer down the path, and flinging all chivalry to the winds, fairly took to his heols, rushing with long strides down the deep descent. In vain Winnie shrieked piteously to him to come back. In vain she struggled to free her foot. With one spring the dark object was close upon her. 'Winnie! Why, Winnie, what is the matter ?' Winnie had clasped both hands over her face, and was cowering down close to the earth, in expectation of inst.mt death. Then the brave, cheery sound of John Parsons voice came like a restorative to her ears. ' The bear !' she gasped. ' Where is it?' . John Parsons burst into a merry laugh. 'It isn't a -bear!' said he. 'It's nothing on earth but a bear-skin ! I've shot the old brigand, and I am bringing down his head and skin, and it- was easier to carry it over my shoulders than \aoross them. Did you actually take me for a real wild beast?' Winnie descended that mountain leaning on John Parsons' strong trusty arm; and from that moment there seemed to bo a tacit understanding that that same valiant arm was to be her dependence for life. Mr. Allison must have mado good

speed, for he was there at the foot of the mountain when they reached civilised gr6und. ' I—lI — I was just coming back after you, Winnie,' said he. ' I ' ' Spare your apologies, Mr. Allison,' said Winnie, contemptuously. ' If a man is a coward, it is porfectly natural for him to run away. "My only error was in supposing that you could over think of anything or anybody besides yourself.' Ferdinand Allison felt that the brightness of his roign in Cedar Plains was now over, and the next day he left the place without any unnecessary ceremony. ' And that, 1 says Winnie, ' was the luckiest day that ever dawned on mo.' ' And me as well,' says John Parsons, who is having the bear-skin dressed into a superb sleighing rug, and who expects to bo married to Winnio Warner very soon.