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rash up the fire. I sha'n't have dinner on the stroke—not 'fore half?past
one.”
Country Neighbors
80
THE ADVOCATE
“You goin'?” called Isabel Wilde from the roadto Ardeliasitting forlornly on the front steps.
It was seven o'clock of a wonderful August morningwith all the bloom of summer and the lull of fall.
Isabel was a darkstrong young creature who walked with her head in the airand Ardeliapretty and frail and
perfect in her own small waylooked like a child in comparison. Isabel had been down to carry a frosted cake
to her little niece Ellenfor Ellen's share of the picnic at Poole's Woods. It was Fairfax daywhen once a year
all Fairfax went to the spot where the first settlers drank of the “b'ilin' spring” on their way to a clearing.
“You goin'?” she called againimperiouslyand Ardelia answeredas if from some unwillingness:—
“I guess so.”
“Now what do you want to say that for?” rang her mother's voice from an upper windowwheretrusting
to her distance from the roadshe thought she could speak her mind without Isabel's hearing. “You know you
ain't. Oliver's gone off to work in the acre lot.”
Isabel had heard. She stood regarding Ardelia thoughtfullyher black brows drawn together and her teeth
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