ehy
near forgettin'.

"This little yaller candle is Jim's."

* * * * *

When it was all over; and Aunt Nancy herself had tied on Katy's hat
and tucked the tippet into her neck, and buttoned her coat so that not
a breath of cold air could get inside; and when Jim stood holding Mr.
Klutchem's hat in the hall, with Chad but a few feet away; and when
Mr. Klutchem had said good-by to Aunt Nancy, and had turned to take
the extended hand of the Colonel, I heard the banker say, in a voice
as if a tear had choked it:

"Carter, you're mighty good stuff and I like you. What you've taught
me to-night I'll never forget. Katy never had a mother, and I know
now she's never had a home. Good-night."

"Come, Katy, I guess I'll carry you, little girl--" and he picked up
the child, wound her reluctant arms about his neck, and went out into
the night.

THE ROMANCE OF AN
OLD-FASHIONED GENTLEMAN

I

Blossom week in Maryland! The air steeped in perfume and soft as a
caress; the sky a luminous gray interwoven with threads of silver,
flakings of pearl and tiny scales of opal.

All the hill-sides smothered in bloom--of peach, cherry, and pear; in
waves, windrows and drifts of pink and ivory. Here and there, fluffy
white, a single tree upheld like a bride's bouquet ready for my lady's
hand when she goes to meet her lord. In the marshes flames of fringed
azaleas and the tracings of budding birch and willow outspread like
the sticks of fans. At their feet, shouldering their way upward, big
dock leaves--vigorous, lusty leaves--eager to flaunt their verdure in
the new awakening. Everywhere the joyous songs of busy birds fresh
from the Southland--flying shuttles these, of black, blue and brown,
weaving homes in the loom of branch and bud.

* * * * *

To the trained eye of young Adam Gregg, the painter, all this glory of
blossom, hill-side, and pearly tinted sky came as a revelation and a
delight. Drawing rein on his sorrel mare he raised himself in his
stirrups and swept his glance over the landscape, feasting his eyes
on the note of warmth in the bloom of the peach--a blossom unknown to
his more northern clime, on the soft brown of the pastures, and on the
filmy blue of the distant hills melting into the gray haze of the
April morning. Suddenly a thrill shot through him and a fresh
enthusiasm rose in his heart: with all this wealth of color about him,
what w