Across the Years | Page 7

and only a moaning "whoa--whoa" fell in jerky rhythm from
her white lips. Ashamed, frightened, and dismayed, Miss Prue clung to
the reins and kept her straining eyes on the road ahead.
On and on down the long straight road flew Jupiter Ann and the little
gray mare. At door and window of the scudding houses appeared men
and women with startled faces and upraised hands. Miss Prue knew that
they were there, and shuddered. The shame of it--she, in a horse-race,
and with Rupert Joyce! Hurriedly she threw a look at the young man's
face to catch its expression; and then she saw something else: the little
gray mare was a full half-head in the lead of Jupiter Ann!
It was then that a strange something awoke in Miss Prue--a fierce new
something that she had never felt before. Her lips set hard, and her eyes
flashed a sudden fire. Her moaning "whoa--whoa" fell silent, and her

hands loosened instinctively on the reins. She was leaning forward now,
eagerly, anxiously, her eyes on the head of the other horse. Suddenly
her tense muscles relaxed, and a look that was perilously near to
triumphant joy crossed her face--Jupiter Ann was ahead once more!
By the time the wide sweep of the driveway leading to Miss Prue's
home was reached, there was no question of the result, and well in the
lead of the little gray mare Jupiter Ann trotted proudly up the driveway
and came to a panting stop.
Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked her way to the
ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was just driving into the yard. He, too,
was flushed and palpitating--though not for the same reason.
"I--I just thought I'd drive out and see Mary Belle," he blurted out airily,
assuming a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure to come.
At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.
"Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard gathering apples," Miss
Prue was saying cheerfully. "You might look for her there." And she
smiled-- the gracious smile of the victor for the vanquished.
Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened, he plunged on
recklessly:
"I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse of yours can run!"
Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened her bonnet and thrust
her glasses on her nose.
"Ann has been bad--very bad," she said severely. "We'll not talk of it, if
you please. I am ashamed of her!" And he turned haughtily away.
And yet--
In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter Ann on the neck
--a thing she had never done before.
"We beat 'em, anyhow, Ann," she whispered. "And, after all, he's a
pleasant-spoken chap, and if Mary Belle wants him--why--let's let her
have him!"

The Axminster Path

"There, dear, here we are, all dressed for the day!" said the girl gayly,
as she led the frail little woman along the strip of Axminster carpet that
led to the big chair.
"And Kathie?" asked the woman, turning her head with the groping

uncertainty of the blind.
"Here, mother," answered a cheery voice. "I'm right here by the
window."
"Oh!" And the woman smiled happily. "Painting, I suppose, as usual."
"Oh, I'm working, as usual," returned the same cheery voice, its owner
changing the position of the garment in her lap and reaching for a spool
of silk.
"There!" breathed the blind woman, as she sank into the great chair.
"Now I am all ready for my breakfast. Tell cook, please, Margaret, that
I will have tea this morning, and just a roll besides my orange." And
she smoothed the folds of her black silk gown and picked daintily at the
lace in her sleeves.
"Very well, dearie," returned her daughter. "You shall have it right
away," she added over her shoulder as she left the room.
In the tiny kitchen beyond the sitting-room Margaret Whitmore lighted
the gas-stove and set the water on to boil. Then she arranged a small
tray with a bit of worn damask and the only cup and saucer of delicate
china that the shelves contained. Some minutes later she went back to
her mother, tray in hand.
"'Most starved to death?" she demanded merrily, as she set the tray
upon the table Katherine had made ready before the blind woman.
"You have your roll, your tea, your orange, as you ordered, dear, and
just a bit of currant jelly besides."
"Currant jelly? Well, I don't know,--perhaps it will taste good. 'T was
so like Nora to send it up; she's always trying to tempt my appetite, you
know. Dear me, girls, I wonder if you realize what a treasure we have
in that cook!"
"Yes, dear, I know," murmured Margaret hastily. "And now the