Tales of the City Room
cluded proudly. "Does she live in N' York naouw? Th' traveller man 'lowed she wuz thar most uv th' time."
"She comes every year," admitted Miss Herrick. "Yes; she is there now," she added quickly, as she recalled the lurid posters and placards that had heralded the glad tidings to the metropolis.
"I reckon I 'll come an' find her," repeated the young man quietly, as his final word.
Miss Herrick found herself thinking of his decision after she had left his home the next morning. She reined in her horse at a point in the road high above and looked down at the small, peaceful cabin from whose chimney the smoke was slowly curling.
"It would be like her to take him up for a time," she mused, "if the novelty of the situation appealed to her. It is n't every day that an untamed mountain Apollo falls at her feet. Then after she tired of him, he would probably come back here and blow out his brains, and incidentally break his mother's heart."
A bird in the branch above her suddenly poured forth a jubilant flood of song. It was
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