Produced by Susan Skinner, Chris Curnow, Pamela Patten and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net [Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. XX.—NO. 1014.] JUNE 3, 1899. [PRICE ONE PENNY.] ERE THE HARVEST TIME. BY CHRISTIAN BURKE. [Illustration: “UNDERNEATH THE SUMMER SUN.”] _All rights reserved._] All the earth lies hushed and silent, Underneath the summer sun, Gardens blush with later roses, In the pleasant orchard closes Fruits are ripening one by one. Cool between its fringing grasses, Drowsily the river flows, Singing, but the sudden hushes, Not as in the spring it rushes, Widened by the melting snows. Full-leafed trees scarce lift their branches, Voiceless all the feathered band; Fledglings faltering flights are trying, Ere the moment comes for flying To some far-off foreign land. Gone the thrill and stir of Springtide— Ere the year had reached its prime, Nature laboured without measure, Now she dreams in golden leisure— Resting until harvest time. THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH. BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object in Life,” etc. CHAPTER X. “WHERE IS TRUTH?” Jessie appeared. It was marvellous to note how the traces of her recent outbreak had nearly disappeared. She looked almost her old decorous self, save for a slight tearfulness and quivering of the lips, the result of some conversation which had been passing between her and Miss Latimer downstairs. She and her cousin looked at each other. Jessie’s eyes might fall, shamed, before Lucy, but they met the other woman’s boldly, almost with a scowl. “Come, Jessie,” said the woman, in a wheedling tone, “I’m sorry to hear what’s happened; and she says you’re to come away with me at once.” Jessie took no notice of her, but turned to Mrs. Challoner. “Well, m’m,” she said, “I beg your pardon for anything that’s happened. I’ve often wondered what you thought o’ me speaking so much o’ the master, an’ me never set eyes on him. But ’twas because I was a-thinkin’ o’ you, an’ a-prayin’ you may never know what it is to be a widow-woman. I’d have kep’ all right if I’d got into such a place as this when Alick was took—that I do believe—but there I was, set down with those grumpy old people, with never a pleasant word; and there wasn’t any comfort to be had but just a sip of what they was always a-sippin’ themselves. An’ it was worse when the old lady was left alone.” “And yet the minister and the lawyer thought so well of you, Jessie,” said Lucy, with grave reproach. “I was all right so far as the lawyer ever knew,” Jessie answered. “An’ as for the minister, he sipped his drappie too, an’ he never saw me the waur o’ mine, which is mair than I can say o’ him.” “Hush, Jessie,” said Mrs. Challoner. “But how could you do your duty to your aged mistress if you got into such a state as you were yesterday?”