Vol. 20.

No. 8.

"This year, next year, now, or never. This year, next year, now, or never. This year" and the last yellow petal fell in the sand at the young girl's feet. “Oh, if it were only possible, to go back to dear old Newton, to Alice and Jennie and to school. If it were even next year; but to think it's never! never! never!" Trudie Zirbel's brown eyes gazed discontentedly out over the endless expanse of water stretching before her; but she did not see it, she was looking back into her vanishing childhood and seeing her golden dreams, one by one, overshadowed by dark clouds of misfortune. Truly had the old proverb of her German fathers, "Unglueck kommt selten allein," been verified in her young life.

Only two years ago she had both parents, a good home, and a bright future; now she had none of them. First her father, Professor Frederick Zirbel, had lost his position in the Newton Academy. Not on account of any lack of qualification in his line, nor because his work did not always show the most conscientious attention. But French had become the fad with the Academy students, and as Professor Zirbel was not proficient in French, a new teacher had been employed to meet the new demand, and as he could also teach German, Professor Zirbel had been dismissed. been dismissed. He had

never had a strong constitution, and many years spent in the schoolroom had not added to his general health, so he was in no wise fitted for the manual labor that seemed his only resource after losing his position. But Trudie remembered his neverchanging cheerfulness during those days and the "bluer" days to come. She could almost hear even now his reassuring, "Ach, Weibchen, unserglueck willst noch kommen," as he patted her mother's hand or stroked her beautiful brown hair.

But those were happy times compared to the days to follow, for they had each other then, and love and hope to make the hours bright. Afterwards came the long sickness and death of the mother, during which sad time the little store hoarded up for a rainy day all went and the home was mortgaged. Trudie knew now, that her father never really rallied after the loss of his beloved "Weibchen" and yet she remembered how hard he had tried to keep up his spirits for her young sake. "Glueck noch, Trudchen,' he always loved to revert back to the tongue of his dear "Vaterland" when speaking to himself or his near ones, a habit Trudie herself had retained from childhood.

"Glueck noch. Gott vergisst uns nicht," and yet the good fortune in which he had put so much faith seemed a long while coming, and

sometimes Trudie really wondered if God hadn't forgotten. For did not the dear father die within a year after the mother's death; and then did not the creditors take that precious little home with all its sweet, sacred memories; and had she not been compelled to come to the already over crowded home of her father's cousin, being forced to give up not only the dear past, but all the bright hopes of the future. And now, to all appearances she must end her days in this lonely little fishing village and be buried with her ambitions all unrealized.

Trudie's was not a morose nature. Instead she was habitually happy and resourceful and had made her way straight to the hearts of the simple fisherfolk with whom her lot was cast. She was grateful, too, for the welcome she had received to the humble fireside of her kinsmen, nor did she fail to show her gratitude. Seldom, indeed, did she permit the sad memories of the past to crowd out every other thought as she had done to

day. But sometimes the old hopes

and longings simply would take possession of her, and then she would try to dream of some way to make them real. But what opportunity could Oyster Cove offer to an ambitious girl no matter how apt or willing she might be? It was true that like most towns Oyster Cove had seen its prosperous day, but that was long ago. The beds of oysters had been exhausted years ago and the handful of fishermen who still called the forsaken place home, remained there either because they lacked means or ambition to move out.

Trudie felt that if she could only go to school a year or two she could make her own way in the world and become useful as well as happy. She wanted to be a teacher

If

as the dear "Vater" had been. only there were a way to get out. of Oyster Cove she might work to her ideal. But it would take money to go the two hundred and fifty miles back to Newton and to friends who were willing to help her.

Every week's mail brought her letters from two childhood chums, Alice and Jennie Solomon and this week the letter had contained a note from Mrs. Solomon inviting Trudie to come and spend the winter with them and go to school at the Academy with Alice and Jennie. The dear lady would gladly have done. more for the unfortunate girl, had she been able, for Professor and Mrs. Zirbel had been her staunchest friends in time of sore need; but she was a widow with her own two daughters to support and educate.

"If I could only get there and go to school this one year even, I feel that somehow it would be easier for the rest, and that I could soon feel independent and even repay dear Mrs. Solomon and Cousin

Mary for all they have done for me," thought Trudie aloud, as she forced her mind back from its day dreaming. "But what's the use of hoping for the impossible?" and with a sigh she arose from the sandy beach. "And yet," she continued to herself, "father's 'Gleuck noch Trudchen' ever seems whis

pering hope to me.”

The sun had sunk lower and lower, and was now just ready. to drop, a glorious flaming ball into. the shimmering sea. Great shafts of golden light spread over the water as far as the eye could reach and myriads of ripples danced on the sparkling surface. This was at picture which never grew old to Trudie. She turned to it now and drank in the magnificent splendor of it all with the same awe struck

wonder with which she had first beheld it. With a start she remembered how long she had been there. "What will Grandma Schiller think?" she exclaimed aloud as she hastened to the path she had left.

"Grandma Schiller" was an old German lady who lived at the far end of the little bay. Every Thursday afternoor. Trudie paid her a visit when she would read to her old frien from a quaint German Bible, which Grandma had brought from the "Vaterland" years and years ago. These visits had come to be Grandma Schiller's sunshine. She even counted time by them. This or that happened the day before or the day after "the child" was here, she was wont to tell the chance villager who called to see her.

Nor was all the pleasure and profit of these vistis the old lady's. Trudie looked forward to them almost as eagerly. For always after the chapters from the Bible had been read grandma's dear old quavering voice would take the young girl across the seas to the land she had loved since babyhood, and together the two would spend hours. in the dear historic haunts of which she had so often heard. Sometimes they were at dear old Heidelberg; again they were sailing down the beautiful Rhine, or sitting in the great play-house listening to Goethe's "Faust."

These visits also gave Trudie the

necessary encouragement to keep up her ambition. Grandma never lost faith in the "Gleuck noch" of the child's father. To her Trudie's future was just as certain as the morrow. She would talk of the days when the girl would have a school of her own as if nothing save a little time stood in the way. To Trudie's remonstrance that it would be impossible the old lady

would reply impatiently, "Tut, tut, child. Vhen you der luck does come, den it vas you der ashamed vill be for der faith you did not haf in him."

Trudie was thinking of these words now as she was hastening toward grandma's cottage. "I'm glad I told Cousin Mary that I might spend the night with grandma," she thought to herself, as she noticed for the first time how late it was really geting. "Grandma will think I'm not coming," and she quickened her steps.

in a few moments she reached what the villagers called Peril Creek, though why it was so called Trudie had never heard. Joel Turner was mending the bridge at the crossing as Trudie approached.

"Hello, Trudie," he called out "goin' to granny's?" You'd better git her to come up to the village, and that right away. There's a big gale comin' up east. The sky looks just like it did the time of the big storm, eight years ago, an' if one like that comes, there won't be no sign o' Granny Schiller's cabin by mornin'."

Trudie looked eastward and was surprised that she had not noticed the great gray wall which seemed to be hanging downward into the

ocean.

"I'll do my best to get her to come," she answered,and hurried on.

"You mustn't either of you stay there," shouted the man after her. "There won't be any great danger fer two or three hours yet but after that I wouldn't give an old fish net fer granny's place."

It was growing dark rapidly and even before the girl reached her destination big drops of water were splashing into her face while the wind was steadily rising and the great black clouds in the east When she

seemed coming nearer.

opened grandma's door she was startled at the sight which met her eyes. Grandma lay moaning on the bed in the far end of the room; there was no fire, and the air was damp and chilly.

Trudie rushed to the bedside. "Why, grandma, what in the world has happened?"

The old lady opened her eyes. "Himmel sei dankt!" she murmured. "It vas der child."

"But, grandma," insisted Trudie, "what is the matter?"

"Der rhumatiz, he come again. And a big pain he come here," explained the sick woman laying her hand over her lungs. "All day der pain he was there but I tells me der child vill come, der child vill come and den he vill better be." The girl stooped and kissed the wrinkled face chiding herself for the time. she had sat dreaming on the beach.

What was to be done? Grandma could never go to the village in this condition. Well, perhaps help would come and in the meantime she would make her comfortable. She hastily kindled a fire, then busied herself heating blankets, rubbing the painful side and doing what she could for the sufferer. At last grandma dozed off. It was now quite dark. No one had come, and the storm was raging outside. She could hear the roar of the ocean growing louder and more terrible each moment.

Something must be done. Joel Turner had told her they must not stay, and who could foretell danger if not Joel Turner. One moment she stood with clasped hands while her heart beat a wild but silent prayer. The answer came like a flash,-Zeb Dixon's cabin up the bluff. She must get grandma there some how Zeb Dixon had been the recipient of sudden good fortune and was now on a visit to some distant relatives in the west and

was "seein' a bit of the world," as he put it. His cabin was left just as he and his wife had lived in it a few months before, and the key was in granny's safe keeping.

The question confronting Trudie now was how to get to this place of safety. The distance was not great but the trail was steep and would be slippery. Could she carry grandma? She must for that was the only way. The frail little woman would not be a great burden under ordinary circumstances, but Trudie was young and she was trembling even now from fright and excitement.

Joel had said they would be safe for an hour or two. She would have to run and open Zeb's door, start a fire, and then return for grandma. Hastily lighting the lantern and making a bundle of things. that would be necessary for the sick woman's comfort, and taking the key from the little corner shelf, she went out into the storm. The wind was blowing fearfully and the rain came down in blinding torrents, while the deafening roar of the sea told her that the black angry waves were creeping nearer and nearer. She rushed frantically up the trail and soon reached Zeb's door. In a moment she had a blaz

ing fire. Then she rushed back down the trail. It seemed that the terrors of the storm and sea had grown. It was too dark to see. What if she should be too late to save grandma. What if even now the cruel waves were clutching her in their arms. The few minutes since she left the cottage seemed an age. What if the cottage were gone and she should be buried in that great wall of water which she knew was rolling nearer and nearer every second. At last she saw a glimmer from the cabin window and gave a sigh of relief. When she entered the cottage she found grandma in a state

of wild delirium. She had evidently been awakened by the storm and was now calling wildly to her son who had been drowned in a storm many years before. It was some moments before Trudie could quiet her, but at last she was wrapped in a large waterproof cape and was being borne unconsciously to a place of safety. Though Grandma Schiller was small it was no easy matter for Trudie to carry her up the slippery bluff, guided only by the flickering light of the lantern which hung from her arm. More than once it seemed that she must sink beneath her burden and that they must both be swallowed up in the awfulness which surrounded them; but again she would seem to receive one moment more of strength as if from her very despair and would struggle on. At last the place of safety was reached. Tenderly the sick woman was laid on the bed and Trudie did all she could for her comfort, but still she moaned and rambled on in her delirium. The girl knew she was very ill. O, if some one would only come; but still the terrible moments dragged on with nothing save the sound of the raging storm to break the monotony. At last it became more than Trudie could endure. "I can keep close to the bluffs and go to the village for help" she said to herself. The fire was replenished and grandma's medicine administered. Then she bent over the sufferer. "I'm going for help, grandma,” she whispered soothingly to ears that did not understand. Taking the lantern once more she faced the storm. Though the wind and rain. were terrible she made her way as far as Peril Creek when she was stopped by a new roar added to that of the storm and sea to which she had already become accustomed. She flashed her lantern ahead of her. Yes, the bridge was gone and

a great whirl of muddy water was rolling madly toward the ocean. This then was why no help had come. Just then she saw across the stream faint lights waving in the darkness. The villagers were there she knew-kind friends who would come to the rescue if they could. Her courage returned. They were not forgotten after all. She waved her lantern and tried to shout a message for their safety

but her voice was lost in the deafening roar about her. Then she turned back to Zeb's cabin and watched and prayed and waited by the sick bed while outside the storm raged on.

At last there came a calm. Grandma, too, became quiet and finally opened her eyes in recognition of the face bending over her. Smiling and softly murmuring something about "the child,". she fell into a peaceful sleep. The gray dawn was just stealing through the little window of the cabin when Trudie heard the welcome sound of footsteps. She rose quickly from the bedside and tiptoeing to the door opened it just as it was reached by a very bedraggled young fisher lad.

"O, Henry Turner," cried the girl. "I never was so glad to see any one in my whole life.

There was not light enough to betray the flush, this remark brought to the brown cheeks of the boy.

"Is the village safe? Do tell me something quick," demanded Tru

die.

"Yes, the village is safe, but nobody thinks you are," he replied. "As soon as the storm got bad and you and granny hadn't come we started out to help you but by the time we got to Peril Creek the bridge was gone and there was no way of getting here. They all gave you and granny up for lost, but some how I felt you'd be up here to Zeb's so I waited till the flood