The Purple Parasol

h the fullness of joy known only to the newly wedded. Days of toil, that had once been long and irksome, now were flitting seasons of anticipation between real joys. At dusk he came

eagerness to be clasped in his arms. She was growing into perfect womanhood, perfect in figure, perfect in love, perfect in all its mysteries. Her whole l

neighborhood, whose honeymoons had not been more than a week old before they began to show callous spots, wondered dumbly at the beautiful girl who grew prettier and straighter instead of turning sour, frowsy, and bent under the rigors of connubial joy-as they had found it. They could not understand how the husband could be so blithe and cheery, so upstanding and strong, and so devoted. The wives of the neighborhood pondered over the latter con

gnation on the part of those who "knowed that Jud and her hadn't no right to be so infernal stuck-up." And yet these same discontents were won over in the briefest conversation with the pair when they chanced to meet. E

theirs, and they sang as they suffered, looking forward with bright, confide

d was not fertile; it had been overworked for years. The crops were growing thinner; the timber was slowly falling beneath the stove-wood ax; the meadow plot was almost barren of grass. It was not a productive "thirty," and they knew it. There was a bare existence in it when crops were good, but there wa

nry Bossman would have been summarily dismissed when he offered to help Jud stack the hay, "jes' fer ole times' sake." It was Justine who welcomed

d to get their mail at the crossroads post-office every day and leave it at the cottage gate as he rode by, she thanked him so beautifully that he felt as though she ought to scold him when he was late on rare occasions. Doc Ramsey, the man who was knocked down by 'Gene Crawley at the toll-gate one ni

t Martin Grimes had taken him out of jail twice at the county seat, both times on a charge of "drunk and disorderly conduct." It seemed that he avoided all possible chance of m

fear dwindled, until now she felt secure in the hope that he had forgotten her. And yet, when his name was mentioned in her presence, she could not restrain the sudden leaping of her heart or the troubled look that widened her tender brown eyes. When Jud bi

ion concerning Justine spread like wildfire. Of course, no one believed that his boast could be carried out, or attempted, for that matter; but, as gossip traveled, the substance of his vow increased. Within a week the tale had grown in vileness until Crawley

rate if she saw fit. Once the girl passed him in the lane near the toll-gate. He was leaning on the fence at the roadside as she passed. She had seen him looking at her hungrily as she approached, but when she lifted her eyes again, his broad back was toward her and he was looking across the fields. There was something foreboding in the strong shoulders and corde

a hard, hot ironing. Her pretty face was warm and rosy, her strong arms were bare to the shoulder, her full, deep breast was heaving wearily beneath the loose blue-and-white figured calico. As Mrs. Hardesty came

tin' to have her. They ain't no one like her in the h

eeted her

baked in this sun? Come into the shade and sit

though. Never saw the roads so dusty, did you? Thank ye, Jestine-much obliged. You must have a grand spring here to git such fine water. It's as cold, purt' nigh, as the ice water you git up to town

st two shoes yesterday," explained the girl, sitting on the doorstep. "Do you want

' face fer a minnit er two. I reckon, though, he don't look at other wome

e rosier. "He's getting tired of seeing me around a

in begin to talk about gittin' tired o' seein' certain people all the time. I know I could see Ji

for instance?" as

a long and far from original dissertation on married life as she had encountered it with James. Finally she

Jestine?" The question was so unexpected tha

seen him more than twice in several m

ave this part o' the country." After a moment's hesitation, she went on boldly, smiling with the awkwardness of

Why, he'll never come here. He and Jud are not friends and

he was a great frien' o' your'n, so I thought, like as not, he was-er-that is, he

sure 'Gene will

be welcome,

be welcome, Mrs. Hardesty. I hardly think

y? Never been friends sence they was boys, I

attends to his own business there is nothing to b

' some ugly talkin'," sa

ustine. A strange chill sei

they ever got to Jed's ears 'Gene 'd pay purty dearly fer them. But Jim

w what you're talking about," cried the

sty, now in the full delight of keeping a listener tortured with suspense. It was a quarter of an

he could tell Jed Sherrod some things ef he was a mind to. He said he could take you away from h

moaned the d

way with him. That's the mildest way to put it. I couldn't say it the way 'Gene did. Don't look

of that?" Justine

eered him. I was

ear it. How could he have said it-how could he hav

he declaration bore distinct marks of a question. Justine's eyes blazed, her body tremb

t Mrs. Jim's eyes wavered and fell. "No!

w I didn't, Jestine--

lies-God forgive him! Oh, Matilda, how could he-how coul

e ought to go right over to Martin Grime

how it would end? There would be a murder-a murder! Jud would kill him. Let it be as it is; I can stand it-yes, I can! We must keep it from him. You will help me, won't yo

d after a moment laid a hand upon

tole. Him an' 'Gene would settle it, an' I'm a