PATSY.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 350, 22 January 1903, Page 7

PATSY.

rwas in the early fall. The day had been intensely warm, and as sturdy, barefooted Meg climbed over the hills she suddenly stopped, •pellbound by the glory of the sunset. She stood motionless drinking in the beauty with an expression of joy and wonder. The Blender figure in its torn, faded freok was bathed in the ruddy-gold light Meg's face was not pretty, but interesting; and one could read there much about the light-hearted, mischievous owner. Lower and lower sank the sun, and the smile died away from the girl's face, whilst the tears welled in the large, bright eyes. Suddenly she brushed them away. Some one was calling. She recognized the voice and shouted back: * Here I am, Jim. What do you want ?' ' I've been looking and looking for you, Meg,' the little lad cried, as he came running toward her panting. He .was a pretty boy of about eleven, a year' or two younger than Meg, but the two were inseparable. She eras his ideal and he trusted her with boundless confidence. ' What are yoa doing here all alone ?' • Nothing.' said Meg, slowly. ' Why ?' 'O, just because.' But Jim looked wise, for when Meg was sad he always felt strange forebodings. * Aren't you going to fell?' he pleaded. 'Well, Jim, boy, will you promise not to breathe it r? •Sure! jsuret!*; '-. * Come here then and Bit down. O, if s awful! I don't feel so bad for myself, but for Patsy. Poor Patsy! Well, you know Harry Mart and Jack Perse and Tom Burn, don't you ?' • -«Yts.'

'Well, this afternoon I was driving Patey and he wouldn't run. I coaxed and coaxed. Just then those boys came by with that horrid little pony of Harry's. Tnen they made all kinds of fun of poor Patsy and said they wouldn't own a donkey. I most believe Patsy heard them and 1 felt awfully bid, and said that he could beat their old pony any day, it he had a mind to. Then Harry asked me if I'd race and I said that Patsy didn't feel like it then, but that some day I would. They made me promise for day after tomorrow; then they went away and said they were going to bring all the folks down to the lane to watch. And now I don't know what to do. I had to stand up for Patey!' Jim looked earnestly at her, bnt did not speak. He was overpowered by Meg's trouble. The two sat watering the last pale tints in the west until the light rapidly faded and twilight crept over them. Then hand in hand they went down over the hills.

All day Meg worked in the barn with hammer and nails and an energy that betokened a definite object. Many a time did Jim inn in, and, after plying her in vain with questions, cod tent himself to Bit and watch. There was an expression of hope and gladness in her face, and he felt sure that all was well. Meg's leve for Patsy was intense, and she felt that on her devolved the responsibility of upholding tho honor. Yet she feared the outcome. To her donkey she confided many a secret that to a person she would never breathe. Discretion and secrecy were not the least among his virtues. But she must cairy out every detail of her carefully • planned scheme. Tea, Patsy must go to bed supperless. It would be tne first unkindness he had ever experienced. Would he understand that she was not anjpry at him ? When Meg went to bring hint in for the night, he cantered up to her side, expecting that she had come as usual to feed aim. As

she led him to the barn, he sniffed and licked her little hand until she thought her heart.would break. Then she kissed him good-night, gave a last look at the big soft eyes and harried a<vay. That evening, before Meg had fallen asleep, she was roused by a familiar sound coming from the distance. She sat up in bed and listened. Yes, it was no mistake. Patsy was braying, calling her. Could he be starving, dying? Quickly, she slipped on her shoes, caught up a shawl, and crept unnoticed from the house. Soon she was at his vide, and, going up to the poor beast, threw her arms around his neck.

* Never mind, Patsy, you kuow I love you,* Then she patted his face and ttied to soothe the outraged feelings. ' Goodnight, Patsy, dear. I'll ba back early in the morning. Don't think I'm mad!' And back she ran to the house. Scarcely had the little head touched the pillow, when cff she was in dreamland.

Meg was glad when morning dawned, lor all night she had dreamed o! Patsy ailing her. At length afternoon came and the hour fixed for the race. The boys were in high glee and resolved to get as much fan as possible at poor Patsy's expense. A small crowd had gathered, because they had been asked and the day's work was over. Many of the men coming from the field good-naturedly stopped to watch, for they knew and loved Meg. All was ready and a road running around a large field was chosen for the track. Harry was to drive his pony first. He felt that he had an easy task and chuckled at the sport. Yet, for his pony's sake and his own, he resolved to make it in as little time as possible. He made it in 2 minutes 15 seconds, amid the cheers of all.

Then Meg jumped into her little cart, any many a smile went round and many a remark was passed on the strange, looking pole, which, firmly fastened to the sulky, reached out about a foot and a half beyond the donkey's head. Jim had, at the last moment, bees admitted into the seoret, and at a sign from Meg placed on the hook at the end of the pole a small pail of oats. At the same time Meg cracked her whip, and off shot Patsy as never a donkey had before. Some of the spectators shook with laughter; some held their breath with amazement. And still Patsy tore on. He passed the mark at full speed, but on and on he dashed, and was wellnigh out of sight before Meg could reach over with her lonx stick an J slip the pail off the book. All hurried down the lane to meet and congratulate the ingenious girl and to bring her the welcome news that Patsy was the victor by 18 1-2 seconds. Yet • maßy declared that not Patsy, but Me?-, had won the day. .

Needless to say that that evening Patsy enjoyed a royal supper, seasoned with the best appetite that ever a donkey boasted. —Josephine Brownson.