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Leahy, R. B. (ed.) / The progressive bee-keeper
Vol. XI [XIII], No. 11 (Nov., 1903)

Tracy, D. L.
My wood nymph,   pp. 307-311

Page 307

My Wood Nymph.
(Continued from last issue.)
"Then I should like to try it
"For the pleasure?"
"The pleasure? No, for the money."
She spoke in such a determined manner
that I, who thought she was not mer-
cenary, was surprised.
"Are you a worshiper of the golden
calf?" said I.
"Yes, or rather for what the golden
calf will bring."
She gave me no entreating look
which was half trorubled and wholly
sweet, and which brought back the
image of my wood nymph as I saw her
that first day.
"Fannie, why that troubled look?"
"I cannot tell you."
"Why not, Fannie?"
"Mr. Tupper she began, when I stop-
ped her, and taking her hand in mine,
"Fannie please call me Tom, just
"Well, Tom," she said blushing
prettily, "It is sometimes hard to
answer a question, without giving of-
fense to some one else."
She could not mean me, so she must
refer to her mother. I knew from
the modest way in which they lived
thatthey were poor, but didn't think
they actually suffered from poverty.
But perhaps there was a lack of
money, and for this reason the widow
seemed so distressed at times. The
face beside me was very sad, the bright
eyes were filling with tears.
"Fannie," said I, "Do you remember
the first time I saw you?"
"Yes," she answered in a tremoulous
"I thought you were a little girl.
and was about to take you in my arms
and console you when you turned your
head I saw you were a beautiful young
lady. But, Fannie, may I not comfort
you just the same, will you not tell me
what troubled you?"
I still held her hand and I gently
drew her toward me until her head
rested against my arm, while her tears
fell fast.
"Will you think the less of me for
these tears?"
"No," said I, and for a moment my
lips touched  her forehead. "But,
come, tell me your sorrow."
"Well, Tom, we are about to lose
our home."
How these words brought back to
my mind the keen pangs of sorrow my
mother and I had suffered, when a
like misfortune befell us. I had never
spoKen  of  these  sad  things to
Fannie, but now told her the story of
my life, and when I finished it, she
raised her eyes to mine and said:
"Then Tom you know what it is to
"Yes, Fannie."
She took one of my hands and carried
it to her lips, looked into my eyes and
told me all the sorrow that weighed so
heavily upon her.
Her father had fallen upon the same
battle field mine had, and he left them
nothing but this little home, which
was mortgaged. They had managed
to keep the interest paid so far.
"You remember the day you found
me sobbing in the woods? My mother
had just informed me that she did not
know where the next interest money

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