ONE AFTERNOON.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 11871, 24 January 1902, Page 3

ONE AFTERNOON.

"How could Charlie ever Lave married her!" Edith ;Mar£in',wandered, looting front her ~ handsome, boyish brother to his listless wife. Her sister-in-law eat :in "a, rocking chair, serving on a little white frock. She was a fair young woman, with largo, expressionless blue: eyes, an indefinite mouth and the suggestion of a double chin, a limp hand and a heavy footstep;, her' loose summer dres3 " sagged" •at .the waist, her light; hair was hanging on her neck in little wisps, and her plentiful supply of hairpins were shining with long usage. They all sat out oh the verandah of the white "frame house that stood at the end of the; long straggling street. . This one street. —the railway track crossing it, and the tall, red grain elevator;; towering \ above , the , low . roofs—composed the town of Rushing River, Manitoba. v :? ' Edith had como out from England a few, weeks before to stay the summer with her brother and his Canadian wife, ; whose younger child, a; fragile little creature, lay in her lap, gazing with solemn eyes over the illimitable stretches of waving prairie grasses under the wide and sapphire skies, while tho elder—sturdy, ! four-year-old ~A line— dragged a. gaily-striped wooden horse and• ! cart -up and down on tho lower-verandah; step. '..'" v '; ' ! ' -'■■;'■■. : °.; "Edith!" "Well, Ada." "Why can't)you call me Addy?" asked Mrs. Martin, fretfully, jerking her rocking chair,' ".I always got Addy at home. Well,; I was going to say our hot days don't seem to suit you, you look kind of pale to-day." Another silence, unbroken save by the monotonous, creak of the rockers on the verandah boards, and Aline crying'"Ho!" and "Go 'long!" to the wooden horse. ';V "Edith," said her brother at last, in» his soft English voice,'"a friend of ours from the Old Country \' will be coming over from this side Merton to sea us soon" —Morton lay 40 miles southward—" Do you remember Allen Garth?; I wrote him you wore here." She only answered "Yes;" but the happy roses bloomed for a moment in her face, her eyelids quivered over joyous eyes, and she remembered him well in the glad silence of her fluttering - heart. Edith' dreamed, ■ wrapped in the glorious suashine, picturing the quiet woods near her English home, the; pearl of April skioa two years ago, the first sweat violets, the tender shadows and faint earth fragrance, and the wistful voice of Allen Garth, saying good-bye. After a time Ada, sharply bidding Aline "stop that clatter," carried her sewing into the cool of the house, and Edith presently heard .the chink of cups and saucers from the kitchen. The baby on her lap had dosed his solemn eyes, and, with him still in her. arms, she followed Ada indoors, a new desire to be of help, born of her sudden happiness, springing up within her. , She hesitated at the kitchen door, where Ada was busy. _ "I want to help you, Addy," she said. "Yes, I guess you want pretty badly!" muttered Ada, bringing the plates together with a slap. The baby stirred and uttered a frotful cry," as they both re-entered the parlour, where the shutters were closed and the room in cool, green shade. \ ' • '■'';■' " Ada complainingly went on: "When I'm going to have a miuuto to do a scrap of sew-; ing for myself, I don't know." , ■''.'■■'-■ , The square table was covered with a litter of things, some manuscripts of Charlie's— who reported for, edited, and printed the Rushing River Bannera few broken toys, and a plate of taffy, tho property of Aline, and a new hat of Ada's partly trimmed. It was a yellow-brown straw with a bunch of drab feathers at the side, a couple of crimson rosea nodding on impossible stalks, and a cluster of rosy cherries adorning the brim. ; Ada turned it on her hand in contemplation. ■'■■." , little Aline trotted in.

" Comin' in now, marmar," she said. " 'Skoeters eatin' me up!" Then stood transfixed with round mouth and eyes, exclaiming, " Oh, what : a hat!", V- " You bo quiet, Allic !" her mother said sharply, and pushing back her fringe she tried it on before the glass. It took , all vestige of colour from . her hair and face.' She looked dull and common and plain. Ada looked, remembered her once round and dove-like- prettiness, flung the hat on tho table, and burst into -passionate tears. She took her baby jealously from Edith's r,rm, and, kissing his little white -face,'-cried, "I'm more likely to want lidaok than that!" "I'm,very sorry," Raid Edith, gentry, but. Ads shook off her caressing band. -' ■ vjiW h'-) The contrast between, herself and . her, husband's sister, so delicate of ■outline, so radiant in tho budding beauty cf 19, maddened her. " You'd lose your looks and your patience, too, if you were in my place," she said. "I shan't see so much of you when that Garth fellow comes. Yoitt leave Charlie; and mo alone," and turned her back, repressing the scalding tears. Edith made no reply. She tried on her' broad eunhat with its white ribbon, and, passing her brother, still lazily rocking in tho verandah, with a. hurried word, she went out of tho house and wandered away along tho winding prairie trail. June! All about Rushing River was a paradise of wild rosea and scarlet lilies. Edith's young heart bounded in tune to the glowing pulses of the young 'world, and far a.way on the trail a moving speck was drawing near, nearer, Edith,' and nearer yet. _ The speck resolved itself into a man in a light cart, with a hoy beside him, rapidly driving a couple of prairie ponies. She met them on the trail, the man - pulled up the ponies, and leapt out: it was Allen Garth. His eyes mot hers in 0110 long, clinging look. Sonny," ho said to tho boy, " drive on and put up at the hotel Ell walk into town myself." . The 'brown.faced boy drove, whistling, away. Edith turned her head and watched him. Allen Garth took hold of her hanging hand.. ■ '■:■: < , . ,

"I had Charlie's letter," ho said, " by this morning's mail. I hitched up tho team and drove straight over. Why didn't you write yourself and.tell me you were here?" "Oh, Allen, why haven't you written a word to mo for two years?" she said, reproachfully. . .-, ••■ ■~; • "Because I had only one thing to say," he answered. "And I've worked hard for those two long, long years that I might have the right to speak at last. I thought to send the letter soon, but it was happiness unspeakable to know that you were here. Won't you look at mo?" She looked tip in his face and knew thai one man called to her from his garden of joy: "Edie! Edio!" -..;'. .. Ho held her band against his heart. "Edith, my own darling, I have only olio thing to tell you.l lore you, love you, love you." It was his own dear little girl of a bygone summer who turned." towards him, ' with uplifted -_ angel eyes '■" and waving hair; it was his own dear little girl who pressed her 1 bright cheek against his, and told him that she loved him. She had always loved him as he loved her now. That evening Edith said good-night to her lover ' and her brother at the gate of the white framo house, and watched them stroll away together towards the town, . one to his newspaper office, the other to the hotel. ■/:/■,;.:,;.'' - •. -.;•".. .;', ' -. ■-■- When she came back to the room Ada sat, : her sowing still in her tired hands. ■'■"; : "Ada!" she said, kneeling beside her, " I ''have something to tell you. Mr. Garth and I pare for each other -jrery much. We arc going to be married." , " What, he's no very great catch, is he?" and Ada glanced up indifferently. " - It was not encouraging, but Edith noticed tho dark lilies- under her eyes, and remembered the little frail child upstairs. She put both arms round her sister-in-law's neck, only asking: "Is baby asleep now, Addy, dear?" And Ada, for answer, gathered her to her and kissed her, whispering, " You're a real, good little thing, Edith!" and held her close for a moment, comforted. Then, as if ashamed of showing unwonted feeling, she got up, saying hastily, " I'm just so tired and sleepy I'll, say good-night. I can't hardly keep my eyes open." She went out of the room, carryng a lighted lamp in her right hand. Edith watched her moving wearily tip the stairs. Sho remembered the busy day she had spent, tho hundred daily oaros of the v, ife and mother. Then she sat down though'»fn.ly i and finished mending the rent in the little white frock. .'.".'■; ________. .'".';■