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4
For Woman’s Work.
Goodbye, ©ld Year.
GOODBYE, old year, the best of friends must part,
You cannot linger here to gladden my fond heart,
The onward-marching age bids you forever go ;
Reluctantly we turn the page—goodbye, it must be so.
tawmgj ifln© Pnmi©s o
(From ist page.)
sweet, silvery laugh haunted his dreams. The next morning he was
up bright and early for a swim in the chilly, salt waters.
“What are your plans for to-day, Capt. Phil?’’ asked Walter Red
man. “Can’t you take a run up the Chesapeake with us? —Miss An
drews is to be one of the party.’’
“No, thanks; I’m off for the mountains.”
“To hunt the future Mrs. Payton?’’
“Primarily, no; secondarily, yes; she is more likely to be found
in the mountains than here.”
“I was under the impression that you admired the fin de siecle,
rather than rusticity.”
“I’m after health and brains.”
“I wish you luck—goodby.”
* * *
“A ticket for Baltimore, please. How long till train time?”
“Twenty minutes,” and she turned away to receive a telegraphic
message.
“A lady ticket agent and telegraph-operator in this little out-of
the-way place! Whoever can she be! She is such a graceful, stylish
girl! Hair with dull, gold gleams, crowns her head; reddish brown
eyes—so rare, and beautiful; rounded cheeks with peach-blow tint;
and such a sweet, childish voice!” thus soliloquized Capt. Payton as
he stood forming a mental picture.
“Is there anything more?” seeing her interlocutor did not go.
“I —” man of the world as he was, he was, for once, distractingly
embarrassed. “I would like to send a telegram,” said he, recovering
his self-control.
She handed him a blank, and this is what he wrote:
“Miss Maida Payton, 812 Lindel Ave., Baltimore, Md. Expect
me at 10:30 p. in. Philip Payton.”
As she read the message a faint smile played round her rose-bud
mouth. She turned to transmit the dispatch, and, to all appearance,
was oblivious of his presence—but her eyes were fairly dancing.
Capt. Phil dared not stare longer, so checking his baggage he left
the station for a stroll. He walked away, mentally vowing to find out
who she was before he left. Encountering a country lad astride an
ox, he accosted him thus: “Say, sonny, who is that lady up at the
depot?”
“Wich ’oman do yer mean?”
“The pretty one who sells tickets.”
“Call her purty if yer want to! Well, she be Miss Hasket.”
“Thank you, sonny; here’s a dime.”
•“W’at fur?”
“O, anything! candy, if you want it.”
“Thank ’ee sir, thank ’ee!” said the boy, with a gratified grin.
The Captain walked on down the country-road, tarrying until he
heard the train come and go. Rushing back to the platform, appar
ently in great haste, he reached it just in time to see the train disap
pear. He went into the station to inquire the time of another train:
instead of the girlish face he expected, he saw at the ticket-window a
gaunt form of an elderly woman, whose visage was anything but
pleasing.
“Is there a train going north this afternoon?” he asked.
“One just left,” she replied acridly.
“I know, but I just missed it. Is there another to-day?”
“No,” and the Captain had just time for a glance at the charm
ing figure back in the office, when the ogress closed the window with
a bang.
“Hello, Captain! What are you doing in these parts?” exclaim
ed Hugh Lee, giving the Captain a hearty hand-shake.
“I’ve been searching the mountains for an appetite,” replied the
Captain. “Just now, I was trying to get out of this region, but miss
ed my train; awkward, too, as I dispatched that I would be at home
to-night. ”
“That’s what I call lucky; just wire that you’ve changed your
plans; I want you to join a camping party to White Top Mountain.”
Hugh tapped on the window, and it was opened by the woman
with the stony aspect —the brown eyes had disappeared.
“Want to send a message, Miss Hasket,” said Hugh.
The Captain wrote: “Miss Maida Payton, 312 Lindel Ave.,
Baltimore, Md. Detained. Do not expect me. Philip Payton.”
The same fair hand sent the second message, and there was re
newed mirth in those brown eyes.
The next day a gay party of six, chaperoned by Dr. and Mrs.
Morris, left on horse-back for the peak, a distance of sixteen miles.
Capt. Phil had asked for the pleasure of escorting the pretty ticket
agent, and Miss Kate Bell was promptly handed over to him. The
early morning air was invigorating in its freshness; the landscape was
picturesque in the extreme. The turnpike wandered off into wooded
stretches, adorned with ferny plumes, beautiful golden-rod, and the
flaunting burdock bush; brooks of clear, crystal water ran chattering
over pebbles, among the sedge-grasses and marsh-mallows, touching
gently the swaying stalks and leaves of the blue flag, as they passed
WOMAN’S WORK.
them by. There were maple groves, gorgeous in their autumnal
splendor; meadows, green and enticing; wood-crowned hills; country
homes —some rambling and dilapidated, others stately and commodi
ous—wearing an inherited air of Revolutionary times.
A silence fell upon the party as they entered a deep valley, over
shadowed by gloomy hemlocks and bedded with huge rocks; here, no
flowers bloomed to temper the savage monotony.
“Ladies, behold nature in all her grandeur!” said Hugh Lee,
who had a worshipful love for the wild Virginia scenery.
“It’s altogether too uncanny for me,” returned Capt. Phil.
“That giant oak yonder reminds me of mediaeval times, and might
well have served the Druids for their sacrificial altar.”
“Say, good people,” observed Dr. Morris, “I believe we’ll have
to pitch our tents here: do you hear that ominous sound?” A mourn
ful sough of the winds, as if Dame Nature would fain warn her chil
dren, greeted their ears. A peal of thunder reverberated from moun
tain top to mountain top; a mighty crash, and a giant oak, as if in de
fiance of the storm, stood riven and twisted. The party were shelter
ed none too soon, for the storm broke in all its fury. They were pain
fully silent in their fear; the Captain thought he heard a sob in Kate’s
direction, and said; “Do not cry, Miss Bell, the storm will soon pass
over.”
“I am frightened, but not to tears. I verily believe you men con
sider tears and women synonymous,” answered Kate a little frigidly.
“Not at all, Miss Bell; some of the bravest human beings it has
been my pleasure to meet were women,” returned Capt. Phil contrite
ly-
The storm soon sobbed itself into silence; the winds subsided, and
Sol, sending down his golden splendor through rifts in the breaking
clouds, soon dispelled all fears.
• “Wasn’t that warring of the elements simply sublime?” said pret
ty, black-eyed Nena Rawlings.
“Nena possesses all the wild, poetic fancy of a child of nature,”
said her uncle, Dr. Morris.
“This magnificent scenery could not fail to put one in touch with
nature,” observed Kate.
The cavalcade was soon under way again. Two miles further
brought them to the base of the Peak. Evening was approaching,
and they decided to pitch their tents, prepare supper, and rest for the
night.
While gathering fragrant pine-tags and oak leaves for couches,
the Captain came across a dainty handkerchief marked, “Kate An
drews.” How came her handkerchief there? —who in the party was a
friend of Kate Andrews? He at once became suspicious, and putting
it in his pocket, he decided to investigate.
All spent a restful night after their long ride, and were up and on
the mountain by sunrise. They stopped now and then to rest and en
joy the varied scenery and listen to the music of the rippling moun
tain rills —born of the mists—that found their way down by ledges,
pathless and steep, through narrow and sunless defiles into the open
valley, then on to the mighty ocean, hundreds of miles away. Kate
shuddered as she turned to her right and beheld that side of the moun
tain which fell so steeply that the giant pines below looked like minia
ture trees. A shrill whistle greeted their ears—a signal to round up.
An open plateau, covered by short, thick grass, had been selected for
another halt. - Tents were pitched, fires started, and lunch prepared.
The Captain lured Kate off from the party, seated her on a moss
cushioned rock, and stood before her. Taking out the delicate piece
of linen, he asked: “Miss Kate, is this yours?”
She looks at the handkerchief, and the tell-tale blood rushes to
her face. What a picture she makes! Her cheeks are fanned to a rosy
pink by the mountain air; little stray curls of tawny hair blow about
her face; her bright eyes are aglow with youth and happiness; but all
thtf beauty is unheeded by the Captain, for he looks upon her in sul
len silence.
’I his is my property, Captain Payton; but I fail to see why you
should appear so shocked about it,” she said as she took the handker
chief.
“I am not shocked; your deception is nothing.more than I could
expect,” and his wordshad a ring of bitter irony. With a pale, set
face, he turned and walked away.
Kate was not quite satisfied with this one conquest; she sat, won
dering why. Becoming wearied, with nothing save her thoughts for
company, she arose and wandered away. Now climbing, now sliding,
she finally reached a dense, wooded gorge; here tiger lilies grew in
profusion, and, gathering her hands full, she started to return. Missing
her way, she strayed into a narrow, treacherous path, sloping abrupt
ly downward. Reaching a point where the wall of rock jutted sharp
ly out, she lost her balance, and, with a cry of terror, fell to the ledge
below. The Captain, who had wandered away to be alone with his
bitter thoughts, heard that cry of anguish, and, rushing to the spot,
looked down and beheld Kate’s unconscious form below. Swinging
himself down by a young sapling, he dropped beside her, and, pick
ing her up, he carried her back to the gorge she had so lately left.
He bathed her face with the cold, sparkling water of a tiny spring”
and she soon regained consciousness. Bending over her with an anx
ous look, he said: “Forgive me, Kate.”
Forgive me, Captain Payton. I overheard your conversation
that night on the piazza with Maida, and I determined upon revenge;
’tis I who have been vanquished.” 5 ’
“How about the ticket agent, Kate?”
She gave a faint, silvery laugh at the recollection. “Understand
ing telegraphy,” she said, “I always assist poor Miss Hasket when
journeying in the mountians. I swore my friends to secrecy owing
to your aversion, you know. Like Topsy, ‘l’s awful wicked.’
You are an angel, and Captain Phil opened the door of the
temple of his affections and placed at its shrine Kate Andrews—she of
the “marble heart.”
JANUARY, 1899.