8
THE COURIER.
i
i
the little door. Thhere were six squares
through which the bright glow of the
fire shone. "Ever fo much nicer than
a lamp she said and Fhe would not
have the lamp lit. "There are pictures
in the if ic glass and the lump shines
brighter than they are."
"Pictures, child? I don't eco any
pictures" said her mother, thinking to
herself what an odd child Nannio had
always been, "alwajs seeing things."
Nannie 6tared intently at the first
little square. At first it seemed only a
mass of black and red. But the picture
must come she said half aloud. And it
did. Gradually the shadows seemed to
shade into one another. And in their
darkness an angel with hands upraised
soared, light shining all around her. It
was the only picture in this one. Nannie
tried but no other would come. The
second was "easy." A huge arm chair.
"So comfortable" Nannie said. The
light was on it in front and out of its
shadowy mist rose a black imp, its arms
wavicg wildly. Dannie looked eagerly
to the next tiny window. For a moment
all seemed chaos. Then "It's the
oddest of all," said she.
"Bless the child with her queer
fancies," her mother said to herself.
A bed, Enow white, on which was a
beautiful girl, floated in the sea. Back
of it rose an immense sail on which a
spider clung. Hie legs reached to the
corner of the sail and one straggled over
the form of the girl.
"One might be a piece of lightning,
though" thought Nannie.
The next picture was the first on the
lower row and was round.
A staid gentlemen of Wat hington's
time, his coat elaborately trimmed with
brass buttons and his snowy wig falling
over his shoulders. In front of him was
a dancer, daintily balanced on one foot.
Nannie dropped her head wearily
against the side of the chair and looked
at the picture again. "Why its different
sideways," she laughed. A dark, dark
forest and an immense tree stump over
which fell a long bright ray of light.
The next picture looked like pictures of
the moon "Or like Sammie's best
marble."
"The last is the best" said Nannie,
and turned her head to look at it In
one corner knelt a little child,
one hand on a chain and in the other
a doll, which neglected, half lay on the
floor. The bright light shone on her
hair and white gown. In another corner
was the mild form of a sheep, and just
above it an owl in spectacles blinked
wisely.
"What a lot of pictures" said Nannie
wearily, "but the little girl praying
was the nicest. I wonder if the doll
was wax."
"Come, come," said her mother, "we'll
know btter Christmas. Let me see
how well the little girl, without the
doll, says her prayers. You look tired
child, but it's the first I've saen of any
color in your face for months.
"It must have been the ism glass
pictures, mamma. Will they be differ
ent tomorrow, and I wonder," sleepily,
'if lbs doll was wax?" and the tiied
lit'le yellow head fell against her
mother's shoulder.
Standing she took off her glove acd
spread out her hand to the warmth of
the open fire. There was a slight mist
driving against the windows and behind
her she beard the rustle of the news
paper in her husband's hand?. She was
joung and pretty, but her large eyes
were red with crying. She took off her
hat and stood for a long time watchicg
the flames in the grate. Then she spoke
without turning to her husband.
"I never saw anything quite like it,
the little oear face in the coffin and the
white roses around the pillow and in the
little hand. I have seen dead children
M you was a met green Oxford we have
,taC Foet Form Store, J2J30 street
before, in the hospital once you know
when we went out of curiosity; and once
when our washerwoman did not come
and we went to ask her why. She cried,
too. but this time it was different
Floweis and music and white velvetand
silver! The mother looked liked death,
herself. She kept whispering, 'Our ba
by. Will, and then crying and whieper
ing again. He was tall and pale and
quiet and he never cried at all. He
cared for ber and rot for the little thing
in the coffin. She cared for him, but
for the baby most. I wonder it a wom
an always likea her children? I never
wanted to hold a baby. When 1 was a
girl I didn't because I couldn't bear
them. I wish I hadn't gone nu I'm
glad I went even if I didn't know her,
she was my neighbor, I was sorry it
rained. If you had gone with me,
or else, I wish you woudn't
rustle that paper. My head ache?.
When I got off the car I iooked about
me and shivered. It was not late and it
was not cold, that if not very. But it
had rained that day and although to
ward the latter part of the afternoon the
sun had done its best to shine, the
clouds had conquered and now at night
the sky wa3 heavy with clouds just be
ginning to break up and looking gloomy
and threatening around the edges.
I tucked my bosks carefully under
my arm and, catching my skirt in my
hand, started down the middle of the
muddy road, which Btretched away in
the distance until it reached a dim point
among the heavy mists. On either side
was the dry, dead grass, shining white
in the hazy, uncertain light. Now tba t
the car had gone and its rattle had died
out, everything seemed very still and I
began to imagine all sorts of queer
noises about me. I was especially
alarmed by a creaking noise that sound
ed as if someone was walking on dry
(eaves. I looked around, but could sse
nothing, and blamed myself for being
nsrvous and easily frightened. Then
after a little thought I came to the con
clusion that if I would wear fibre cham
ois in my sleeves I need not be startled
at creaking noises. The heavy fog which
was settling down in damp mistiness and
the silence, was oppressive, and being
unable to endure it any longer, I took a
deep breath and yodled as loud and
as clearly as I could. The echo wan
dered and lingered in ihe foggy air as if
it had lest its way. I felt a little nervous,
suppose some one were near and had
heard me and I started on a run which
was not easy work through the muddy
street, but after a little I began to en
joy it and although I almost fell down
once or twice, kept on until I was out of
breath. Presently a small, black object
came teaiing out of the miit, and, with
a joyous bark, sprang towards me. It
was my little dog. "You heard me,
Bennie boy," I said. "What a gallant
little dog you are." He replied by an
eajer whine and pull at my dress.
Then we ran again and reached home,
breathless and tired, but with imagina
tion stimulated by the silence, the mys
terious seclusion of ths mist, and the
fright. HARRIET COOKE.
I -suppose I was silly, but other girls
do it now so I am not sorry as I look
back. It happened in the spring. It al
ways happened in the spring. I fell in
love for two whole, long rapturous
weeks. The lilaca were all out the vio
lets too; even the grass had a peculiar
freshness that 1 have never noticed
since. I walked with him ftom school.
I studied with him in one of the upper
rooms where the windows wen all open.
I wore the yellow dandelions he picked
from one of the green yards we passed.
I rat by him while the preacher spoke,
If your feet have that tired feeling try
onr Foot Form. Shoe. Foot Form Store.
1213 O street
One lot trimmed hats $ 75c .
One table trimmed hats 1.00
One table trimmed hats 2.00
Were S3, $5.75 and $4.
Proportionate reductions on all trimmed goods 25 to
50 per cent off on sailors.
THESE PEIOES CONTINUE FOR NEXT WEEK
MRS- R. E. LLr
126 So. 12tlx (Street.
Go to
?WKflS & SHEA0H
For
1129 0 Street, :-: Lircolr Neb
tMIHOIMt00MMIOHMMMMOOIMMMMtMHttMMMMMOIMMMIOMO
A Weekly Newspaper
Is the
BECAUSE
Best Advertising Medium
1 It is carefully read by the whole family,
2 It is not thrown aside on the day of issue but
is fresh -for a week.
3 Ten thousand dollars are spent for magazine
to one hundred in daily newspaper advertising.
A The weekly newspaper is not put into the
waste basket.
Every advertisement is read.
liuuMiMMiniimm'iniiiMtttttttitirtmmtiHittttiiiHMmiiinoiii
and heard not a word of the sermon. I
think I sang, at least my heart did.
For two, whole, long rapturous weeks,
years ago when I was younger than now.
Then it all slipped away before I knew
it, like April ehowers shall I say clouds
or sunshine?
She is a young girl who has just fallen
in love. She will not admit that she has,
but everybody in the house knows
it. He is very jolly and very fat and al
most as young and silly as the girl her
self. His face flushes when he comes
in and stays flushed all the time he is in.
He puffs as if his flesh waB a burden to
him. It certainly is a burden to the
girl. She never hears the last of it. "Is
Fatty coming tonight?" "I saw Fatty
on the street today and he looked awful
hot." "Fatty Emokes, doesn't he?'
These are the things she hears from the
rest of the family.
But the worst of all came this morn
ing. He came home from cnurch with
her last night; and the boy of the fam
ily fiw him. He pointed with his thumb
to the girl:
"She has," he began slowly, "she has
Fatty degeneration of the heart."
A BAG OF MARBLES.
An old man sat out under a tree in
front of the house and jingled a bag ot
marbles. It was summer. The grass
smiled uparoud him and the tree smiled
down above him. Before, him on the
slope of the hill a field of ripe wheat'
laughed to the sun and beyond the prai
ries quivered joyfully in the heat. The
old man smiled too. There was a light
in his tired old eyes that had not shown
there for many years. And the wrinkles
about his mouth were fewer than yes
terday. He Bat and looked childishly
down at a round place in the grass,
