Poppea of the Post-Office

being an instinct common to all healthy young animals when either physically hurt or in trouble. Knowing as she did all the by-ways,

em on either side, Poppea was crossing the graveyard toward the Northeast gate by

her efforts at concealment, and walking directly to the round hill above the graveyard took such a view of the surroundings as the dusk would allow. The bitter north wind sweeping down from the hill-country turned her about when she faced in that direction, putting an end to a wild idea she had of spend

s, and, creeping through the fields like a great glow-worm, made its way toward Bridgeton. There would be a down train in a quarte

ities the best. As she closed her eyes for a moment, she saw the peaceful picture of Mr. Oldys sitting with his evening paper by the fire in the library of endless books in their white, varnished cases, discussing the doings of the day with Hugh. Through the doorway into the dining room was a glimpse

by a bitter feeling of resentment toward those who had been kind to her, for had they not all banded to deceive her? she, who was nobody, saved from charity possibly,-so quickly did her mind travel ahead of what she kn

essions crowded her brain with the rapid confusion of a nightmare, and at this moment the germs of two distinct natures b

med that the winking eyes of the lights, one red and one yellow, that guarded the entrance of the shallow bay, were beckoning her t

until, tired with groping, her feet found a worn track, one of the many cow-paths that wound about the lot. Keeping to it, no longer trying

y since the cows had made their last homeward trip in November. On the other side of the bars, the path that had p

supper from one side of the stack that had been hollowed into a sort of shelter by many such meals. Then a lantern shone a few steps

nd come to protect his cattle from the storm, was tempted to crawl into the hay for warmth and rest; her feet were almost without feeling, her

for her body, the clock in the tower of St. Luke's struck melodiously, not co

time might bring forth rather than a warning of passing hours. 'Lisha Potts had once voiced this interpretation with his

Re-pent, re-pent, re-pent,' and the Hill Meeting House's says, 'H E L L! Hell! Hell!' plain as words, so's I do

in road through another pair of bars, familiar to all the village children as the daily short cut to the

e her way across the road, also that a dim light came through the chancel window. Then

from road to door, and when she had pulled herself free, she noticed that

turn away, but she was nearly spent. Pulling herself into the vestibule with great effort, she looked through the diamond panes of the inner door into the church; it was quite empty save for the figure of Latimer himself at the organ, a single lamp above

the deep shadow of the loft that once held the organ before the new instrument had been placed beside the chancel. The backs and door ends were high to keep out draughts; likewise these pews were seldom used

lls, the sudden cessation of cold, the light, the subtle fragrance of the fir trees and pine of the Christmas gre

sympathetic priest; in the other, romanticist, musician, and dreamer. To-night he was leading this second life to the full. Once he set the stops in order as though he had finished, then releasing a few of the more delicate, he began to improvise, weaving together the themes of the Christmas ca

epths of stern reality, and the little church began to trem

r in the dark hiding-place, and was struggling with her body and soul. Her breath came quick and fast when Latimer began the massive splendor of Cujus Animam, and when he le

asterly exertion, and, passing his hand wearily across his eyes, shut off the stops still quivering with passion, leaving only Vox

esus, mee

n a litt

hat Gilbert had taught her while she still slept in the hooded cradle. At last God was merciful:

stifle the blessed sobs, she a

a friend, she called, walking toward him as she spoke: "Stevie dear, what have you been about? It is half-past seven and the popovers that I made for tea have grown quite discouraged. I was expecting you hours ago, but Hugh Oldys came rushing in looking so ghastly that he put e

oor, Poppea heard Mrs. Latimer say, "Elisha Potts and Hugh are hunting everywhere, but if they do not find her by ni

tive child, yet very proud beneath the surface. Do you know, Jeanne, she very often reminds me of you y

e time to remember and know that you were

d in a single night. For the time being she had what she most needed, rest and silence, with the single lamp that had been forgotten, to prevent the oppression of darkness. She was too physically numb to care what happened during the next hour or

en likely to take refuge, and finally, a little before nine o'clock, meeting with Stephen L

he could have drowned herself? It's all o

ld not even occur, for suicide is the final proof of irresponsibility. That she may be wandering, dazed, in the bay marshes is my greatest fear; still, before we m

, and keep a good lookout by the way. She may head for h

d parted and banished the heavier snow clouds, and the moon, edging its way persistently th

, and was sitting by the kitchen fire; that is, he sat there in the brief intervals when he was not peering from the

e to his elbow and then silently left the room. As she closed the door at the bottom of the attic stairs and began a creaking ascent, Gilbert called after her:

going to the side porch collected a large armful of logwood topped with kindlings which he proceeded to c

you doing!" she cried, almos

ook real cheerful when she comes home-for-she'll be tired and cold-most like. Mayhap the

braided rugs. The straight white drapery at the windows, and on the old high-posted bed in which several

der toward the bed without looking at it. When, after a few minutes of kneeling on the hearth and coaxing with the bellows, the ruddy glow of the fire had

he record of the years since Poppea's coming. Below the record of the previous day he drew a heavy line. Then writing December twenty-eighth, across the entire page, he traced under it, writing painfully and making three strokes to every letter,-"This day h

he returned to Poppea's bedroom, where he fastened the miniature against the frilled pincushion on top of the high chest of drawers, and lighting the candles in the two straight glass holders that had been Miss Emmy's Christmas g

lage. As they reached the Rectory, Mrs. Latimer flitted out to ask for news. When they came abreast of the church, her husband, who

flagged pathway, saw something fluttering from one of the shrubs;

y, while the bush is crusted!" but lowering the lantern to the pavement, the footprints there sho

ook here, though of course she may have me

was in the church alone until h

" said 'Lisha, "for you kin make her beller power

mp having burned out, and the cold of the floor was creeping up to where she lay. Sitting up, she

me to her, and the moon without outli

ed open, and Poppea heard Hugh Oldys's voice saying, "Go quietly and don't stamp so, Potts; she may be asleep," and

ho, sitting beside her, said: "We have come to take you home, Po

nce six

as I played that some one was in hard conflict, and that I must play to help them in some unseen way. I did not

r long stay in the church, joined them when they were leaving. "Send Hugh home, and ask Potts to let Oliver Gilbert k

ew her into the Rectory and ministered to her by the dim firelight, and presently the two were driven to

ire within made her turn it quickly. Mrs. Latimer hastened to undress her, for she

hair, her eyes fell on the miniature. Seizing it, she gazed at the

whispered; "how d

you came. We do not know, Daddy and I; we can't b

her face as though struggling intently with memory, pressed the

d hair wreathing her head, the resemblance to the miniature became almost startling, but Jeanne Latimer

pleadingly; "isn't there anything to tell excep

e, Poppea's expression changed, the mouth hardened, and a rigid expression mantled the delicat

f they would open again,

mat before the fire twitching and whining in his sleep. Starting up, she felt, rather than saw, that there was some one in the room. Peering aro

pon hers that struggled under it for a

your home is here, yours to have and hold under love and law, and you see you've

repeated slowly, "Yes, I've a Daddy." Then she hid her face upon hi

y, but sat there, replenishing the fire

he embers he stumbled over Mack, who did not move; his faithful old life had