Poppea of the Post-Office

torm that locked village and country-side, laying low great trees by the clinging weight of icicles, freezing outright more than one veteran crow

were reflected, framed by wonderful prismatic colors. Below the falls, however, the water, tempered by the

the wishes of Miss Elizabeth, who insisted that for Miss Emmy, with her sensitive lungs, the tropic atmosphere of a steam-heated New York house, with double windows to prevent even a breath of fresh air from entering unduly, was the only place. Miss Emmy, however, had rebelled, and seemed bent upon following the

se-colored ribbons, she was quickly surrounded, even before she had time to shrug her shoulders free and draw one hand from the depths of her great muff, extending it toward a young girl who had come toward her with the grace of a swallow skimming the air, bending to kiss her almost before she had paused, saying in the same breath: "Oh, Miss Emmy, I'm so gla

n his feet instead of on the sleigh, and his cheeks grew red and his big gray eyes shone so. He is such a dear little fellow, Miss Emmy, and so clever at making pictures and images of anything he sees. Last summer he made Mack's head out of pond clay and baked it in the sun, and it was ever so much like Mack when he holds one ear up to listen, you know. Then he tried to do a head of Aunt Satira, but it wasn't so good; the nose and bob of hair behind looked

hink it wise to talk in the face of the wind. Then looking about for Hugh Oldys, Poppea saw that he was evidently searching for her in the zigzag line of skaters near the opposite bank, and as a

er his beloved tin soldier and the present, nearly thirteen years. Poppea, now at the crisis of her girlhood, Hugh in his first college year. Did she realize the lapse of time? In some ways n

ia as a matter of principle, the second name having too theatrical a flavor to suit her. At first it had been the little child of five, coming to take her lesson in needlework on squares of dainty patchwork, one white, the alternate sprigged w

ng intently, got up and, creeping inside the window of the music room, began to dance, suiting her steps to the music, now slow, now rapid, perfectly unconscious that any one was present, until the great emotional pianist, glancing up, finished abruptly, pausing to applaud, and Poppea, brought suddenly to herself and covered with confus

o school to have the necessary companionship of girls of her own age; not that she had the slightest feeling of aloofness or did not mingle with the village young people in the simplest way. It was the village people themselves, not Poppea, who seemed to hold aloof, as if they did not know how t

y, and were oftentimes inclined to agree with Hugh Oldys's mother, who said in her gentle way, "You may be right, cousins Felton, but my feeling would be to keep the d

Hugh, skating "cross-hands," and in a moment Miss Emmy was whirling over the ice

to the shelter of the high bank and a hemlock tree combined, that he might

andle bar paralyzes my hands, I could push you clear up to Kirby; the mischief of it would b

is hair, tousled by a fur cap, had a wave above the forehead; his almost black eyes looked straight at you without boldness. The corners of both

at had escaped from its ribbon, his expression was of the affectionate regard of a boy for his sister, who is

reached the end of the strand. "It blew into my hands a quarter o

us, if not artistic hands, and in so doing, hid her thick, long mane of golden brown, with the tints of copper and ash that painters love. Beautiful as her hair was, the great charm of her face lay in her e

e been wistful, almost sad, had it not been for the upward curve of the lips and tip tilt of

, "and then home. I'm afraid it will

ddy hasn't been feeling quite well for a few days and he likes me to look over the mail after he has tied up

of, and it will be easier walking that way than over the icy main roads. Yes, I'm going back with you; I've got to

by any chance, Mrs. Pegrim would give a co

and I'll make it. I've learned up at the Feltons'; th

tone fences, until in the high pickets of the graveyard fence they met the first real obstructi

g so nicely. No, but they are bending. Stop one minute, Hugh, and help me break o

readfully; he's trained it so as to make a frame and he would never let me touch even a leaf.

ith an intensity amounting to terror. Hugh, close behind her, followed her glance. For a second,

ell me if the snow has blinded

red what he already knew, had known, these hal

never noticed before because of the vines; it should be 1861, th

e way of it, Hugh? Why don'

omething she saw there struck a chill into her more penetr

e stood facing the intangible, with bent head, helplessly groping for some way of escape, not so much for himself as for Poppea. The truth lay bare before them, and he knew that it could no longer be veiled. The protective instinct of manhood told

te is a mistake, but you

eemed to form them; then Poppea faced the stone onc

an't be my mother. Do you understand, Hugh? Not my mother. Why don'

the little stone and, pulling away t

Who was my mother, Hugh? And Daddy-is

to steady herself, half in frenzy, sh

n Hugh's throat almost stopping his voice, as he took her arm and tried, without force, to tur

's names? Tell me that now! Where

d, at the same time his lips sai

rook and 'Lisha and Aunt Satira and everybody know but me? Does little Philip know? Take your hand off my arm, Hugh. I'm n

the dark, and even he began to feel the chill of it through his pea-jacket, while Poppea was colorless and rigid as one of the icicles that hung from the trees. Could this be the sam

de the gate in sight of the cross-roads. "Listen, I hear a wagon in the turnpike; wait a moment while I stop i

of relief sweeping over him when he saw that it was 'Lisha Potts taking his e

ve the fact of the discovery of the da

y had the common sense,-'It's got to come,' says she, 'so why not let her grow up with an aunty and uncle and fetch up to it drop by drop instead of gettin' the whole thing some day like a pa

a's name as he went, but when he

d behind the long line of stone fence opposite that the night was fa

this time o' night. Anyway, it isn't no use trying to track her; the ground's froze so hard it doesn't take a hoof print. Well, come to think of it, if that isn't darned queer! It was froze jest like this the night she was left at Gilbert's! Best come down to the centre

for his lame leg; jest say 'Lisha Potts's going on the trail and he'll trust me, and mention to S

s Hugh entered the post-office, he could see Oliver Gilbert's face looking anxiously up the

n't say she's fell through the ice and dr

Hugh paused, realizing that eve

len into using Poppea's epithet

d with unconscious emphasis and pathos. Then, after giving 'Lisha's message, he st

she came to me in the night, and in the darkness she has gone from me," and hiding his face in his arm he left the office and, s

er prediction in all its details, sat down suddenly in the rocker, head between her hands, until the honest tears spattered both on the floor and o

or the nervous clenching of his long, thin hands. Presently he paused by the hooded cradle that stood as of old between the bed and wall. Lighting a candle, he set it upon the chest of draw

for my very own so bad that I've lived out a lie rather than have the truth come between ever so little. Now she is suffering for it when it should only be me. I was puffed up and said to myself in my pride,-'A wrong has b