Is led away to the

Pleasures of

the town,

Such as groceries and millinery,

And other

allurements.

Miss Thompson bowed and blushed, and then
Undoubting bought of Mr. Wren,
Being free from modern scepticism,
A bottle for her rheumatism;
Also some peppermints to take
In case of wind; an oval cake
Of scented soap; a penny square
Of pungent napthaline to scare

The moth. And after Wren had wrapped
And sealed the lot, Miss Thompson clapped
Them in beside the fish and shoes;
"Good day," she says, and off she goes.

Beelike Miss Thompson, whither next?
Outside, you pause awhile, perplext,
Your bearings lost. Then all comes back
And round she wheels, hot on the track
Of Giles the grocer, and from there
To Emilie the milliner,

There to be tempted by the sight
Of hats and blouses fiercely bright.

Still on from shop to shop she goes
With sharp bird's-eye, enquiring nose,
Prying and peering, entering some,
Oblivious of the thought of home.
The town brimmed up with deep-blue haze,
But still she stayed to flit and gaze,
Her eyes ablur with rapturous sights,
Her small soul full of small delights,

But at length Empty her purse, her basket filled.

is convinced

of indis

cretion.

The traffic in the town was stilled.

The clock struck six. Men thronged the inns.
Dear, dear, she should be home long since.

Then as she climbed the misty downs
The lamps were lighted in the town's
Small streets. She saw them star by star
Multiplying from afar;

Till, mapped beneath her, she could trace
Each street, and the wide square market-place
Sunk deeper and deeper as she went

Higher up the steep ascent.

And all that soul-uplifting stir

Step by step fell back from her,

The glory gone, the blossoming
Shrivelled, and she, a small, frail thing,
Carrying her laden basket. Till
Darkness and silence of the hill

Received her in their restful care

And stars came dropping through the air.

But loudly, sweetly sang the slippers

In the basket with the kippers;

And loud and sweet the answering thrills
From her lone heart upon the hills.

CLASS ACTIVITIES

1. Describe the drawings you would make if you were an artist illustrating this poem with a series of pen-and-ink sketches to be placed in the margin. Instead of describing the drawings, you may prefer to sketch them and show them to the class; try it.

2. Tell in order the different shops Miss Thompson visited, using as a guide your record of her shopping trip. Name the articles she purchased in the various shops.

How?

3. Which of the shopkeepers is pictured most vividly? Could you recognize him if you were to meet him? 4. Select five figures of speech you like and 5. Read four passages containing humor. pathos.

6. Which would you prefer as a neighbor or Mrs. Watson? Why?

tell why you like them. Read any lines containing

Miss Thompson, Mr. Miles,

7. Explain the last four lines of the poem. What element or factor in life does the poet represent by the red plush slippers?

8. Write a short paragraph, or a stanza, describing a grocer, a druggist, or a butcher whom you know. Try to make your description so vivid that any one could recognize the dealer.

9. Volunteer talks:

a. The fun of window shopping. c. Buying a hat.

b. Bargain day.

d. Purchasing fishing tackle.

7. GETTING UP TO DATE

ROBERTA WAYNE

Read this story rapidly, noting the three main things Ellie did in order to bring her uncle's store "up to date."

Old Job Lansing stood, hatchet in hand, staring into the big packing-case that he had just opened.

"El-lee," he called, "come here quick." As footsteps were heard and the shutting of a door, he continued: “They've sent the wrong stuff. This isn't what we ordered!"

The girl buried her head in the box, from which she lifted bolt after bolt of dress goods, voiles with gay colors, dainty organdies, and pretty ginghams. As she rose, her eyes glowed; instinctively she straightened her shoulders. "Yes, Uncle, it is what we ordered. I sent for this!"

"You did!" The old man trembled with rage. "But, Uncle, they're so pretty and I think

"You can think and think as much as you please, but those goods will never sell. They'll just lie on the shelves. You may think they're pretty, but an Injin won't buy a yard of 'em, and we're trading with Injins."

"But there's no reason why the squaws shouldn't buy pretty dresses instead of ugly calico. There's more profit in this, and it's a pleasure to sell such dainty stuff. Besides, we can sell to the white people. There's Mrs. Matthews

"I've heard all your arguments before, and I tell you, you'll never sell it."

For many years Job Lansing had lived alone in the rooms behind his store, and had become self-centered and a bit fussy and stubborn. If he had realized how much his life was to be upset, he could never have brought himself to offer his widowed sister and her family a home; for he valued his quiet life, and, above all, wanted to do everything in his own way.

But Ellie's affectionate ways won Job's heart. The two were chums, often going together on long horseback rides to distant peaks that looked inviting. As the girl developed, Job loved to have her with him; he was delighted with her interest

in everything in the little store. She even learned the prices of the goods and helped him sell!

Since Old Job had kept his store at the "summit" for thirty years, he was sure he knew every side of the business. He thought that a good supply of beans and flour was all that was necessary. Most of his trade came from a good-sized Indian village which lay down the creek about a mile.

The old man had reached the age when he lived mostly in the past. He liked to talk of the "glorious" days. "Things were lively around here then," he used to say. "Why, for every dollar's worth I sell now, I used to sell fifty dollars. They were the good old times!"

"But why?" questioned Ellie, bringing him back to the present. "There are a lot more people here now, and we should do better." Then, with a gesture of impatience: "Uncle, there's no sense in it. We've got to get up to date."

"Shucks!" said Job Lansing. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But Ellie always managed to have the last word. "I'm going to do something! See if I don't!"

And she had done it!

For weeks, now, Job Lansing had been quite pleased with her. She had never been so reasonable. She had taken a great notion to cleaning up the store. Not that he approved of her moving the goods around; still, it was a woman's way to be everlastingly fussing about with a dust-cloth.

He had decided that this new interest on Ellie's part came from the feeling of responsibility he had put upon her two months before when he had been called to Monmouth. Before he went he gave his niece a few directions and told her how to make up the order for goods that had to go out the next day. He rode away feeling that the business would be safe in her hands.

To-day, as he stormed around the store, he realized why she had taken such an interest in the arrangement of the shelf space; why a gap had been left in a prominent place. She desired a place for this silly stuff that wouldn't sell! He wanted to send it back, but, as it had been ordered, he would have to pay express on it both ways.

Ellie stood her ground, a determined expression in her face. She unpacked the heavy box, putting the gay organdies and voiles in the places she had arranged for them. One piece, of a delicate gray with small, bright flowers in it, she left on the counter; to the astonishment of the old man, she let a length of the dainty goods fall in graceful folds over a box placed below.

This was one of the notions she had brought back from Phoenix, whither she had gone on a spring shopping trip with Mrs. Matthews, wife of the superintendent at the Golden Glow Mine. How she had enjoyed that day! Her eager eyes noted every upto-date detail in the big stores; but, to her surprise, Mrs. Matthews had bought only such goods as they might easily have carried in her uncle's store-plain but pretty ginghams for the Matthews children, a light-blue organdie for herself, a box of writing-paper, and a string of beads for Julie's birthday.

Ellie's head was at once filled with ideas that coaxed for a chance to become solid facts. Her uncle's trip to Monmouth gave her an opportunity, and, after weeks of waiting, the boxes had been delivered and the storm had broken.

When they closed the store for the night, Ellie was tired. She was not so sure of success as she had been. But, at least, she had made an effort to improve matters.

With the morning came new courage, for unconsciously she was finding joy in the struggle; not as a relief from the monotony and loneliness of her life, for Ellie did not know what monotony meant. She felt herself rich in friends.

Her chum, Louise Prescott, the daughter of a wealthy ranchman, lived only ten miles away. The two girls often visited each other, for each had her own pony and was free to come and go as she wished. For the last two years, Louise had been away at school. She had returned the day before, and Ellie knew that early the next morning Louise would be loping her pony over the steep road that led to the little mountain store.

When Ellie was standing guard over the new goods fearing that her uncle, in a moment of anger, might order them returned, Louise rode up, and, throwing her reins forward over her pony's neck, leaped from the saddle and rushed into the

store.