Free The Parkerstown Delegate by Grace Livingston Hill Page B

was he.
    He was awake very early the next morning. He knew the colors of the sunrise well, and could tell you all about them, for he had watched them many times from his window, after long nights of weary hours, which it had seemed to him would never end. He watched the pink bars of the sky slowly turn to gold, and then melt away into a glory that burst over the world and filled everything, even his room, and brightened his pale face for a little. Then the world waked and went to work and things began. Harley might hope for Lois to come soon, for had she not been his friend for so long, and did she not love him dearly? She surely would come over directly after breakfast. And Lois did not disappoint him. She came while it was still early, with a great spray of chestnut burs in her hand, that the frost had opened and robbed of their nuts just to show the world what a pretty velvet lining was inside.
    Lois had not exactly a beautiful face when you considered it carefully; her skin was pink, and her eyes blue, with yellow lashes, and her hands just the least mite freckled, like her father’s, but the eyes were bright and sweet, and the lashes had somehow caught and tangled a sunbeam into them, and the hands were quick and graceful, nevertheless; besides Lois had hair—wonderful hair! It began by being red like her father’s, but the glory of the sunlight was in it to mellow it, and the soft brown richness of her mother’s had toned it down, until the red only shone through in little glints, and made it the most beautiful halo of soft, rippling light about her head; so that when you considered her hair, Lois was lovely. Harley thought her very beautiful, and I am not sure but his brother Franklin held the same opinion.
    “And now, Lois,” said Harley, when the greetings were over, and they had settled down to an old-time talk, “begin! What will you tell me first? Let me see. Begin with the nicest thing first. What was the nicest thing you saw in all the time you were gone?”
    Lois raised her eyes a little above their level, and put on her thoughtful expression. Harley liked to see her so, and feasted his eyes upon her as she studied the ceiling, thinking how good it was to have her back with him again.
    But Lois’s eyes were beginning to brighten and a smile crept over her face which Harley knew was the harbinger of some good thought or story.
    “I think the convention was the best of all,” she said, bringing her eyes back to his face, full of pleasant memories for him to read.
    “Convention! What convention?” asked Harley almost impatiently, “and how could a convention be the pleasantest thing in a visit to a big town?”
    “But it was,” said Lois emphatically, “the very best thing of all. I think if I had to choose between the whole of the rest of my visit and those three days of convention I wouldn’t have stopped a minute to think, I would have chosen the convention—at least, that’s the way I’d do, now I’ve been to it.”
    Harley looked puzzled. He could not understand why a convention should he particularly interesting to a girl, but he had unlimited faith in Lois and her taste.
    “Was it politics, or a firemen’s convention? And did they—why, I suppose they had a great many parades, didn’t they? Was that why it was so nice?” he asked, trying to understand.
    “Oh, no, indeed!” said Lois, laughing. “It wasn’t politics nor firemen nor Farmers’ Alliance nor any of those things. It’s a long story, and I’ll have to begin at the beginning. It was the State convention of the Y.P.S.C.E. Do you know what those letters mean?” and she stopped to watch the color deepen in Harley’s cheek and his eyes shine as he tried to guess what the mystic letters could mean, but after he had made several unsuccessful attempts she went on.
    “It means Young People’s Society of Christian Endeavor,” she said, naming each word on a finger of her hand, and nodding triumphantly as she finished.