Smiles Appeal

It was snowing when she stepped outside,--a soft, white curtain of
closely woven flakes rapidly dimming the early evening glow and bringing
nightshades on apace. The wind, too, was rising; its first fitful gusts
drove the snow sweeping in whirling flurries across the open spaces, and
then whistled off through the leafless trees.

Rose shivered. The wind greeted her boisterously. It clutched her shawl
in hoydenish jest, tore one end of it free from her grasp, and ran its
invisible, icy fingers down her neck.

The cabin of the nearest neighbor--Pete Andrews--was only a few rods
distant; but, before the girl reached it in the face of the momentarily
increasing storm, she was panting, and her face, hair and clothing were
plastered with clinging flakes.

"Mis' Andrews, I hates ter ask er favor of ye such er powerful mean
night; but I needs help," said Smiles, as soon as the door had been
opened, letting her in, together with a whirl of snow which spread
itself like a ghost on the rough floor.

"Yo' knows thet I'd do enything in ther world fer ye, Rose gal. I reckon
I owes ye my life since when ... when Gawd Almighty tuck my baby back
ter thet garden er His'n in Paradise," answered the frail, weary-looking
woman, whose eyes quickly suffused with tears.

"Hit haint repayment I'm askin' of ye, but er favor, Mis' Andrews. I
wants ye ter help me save ther life of another mountin flower, what's
nigh faded plum erway."