The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1865-03-01
FHE MASTER OF MILLDEAN
BY AMY RANDOLPH.

HfBecky ars you IN earnest I!
"Why not, mamma .Doa't you gee 1T
a self~evident fact that morey must RG
obtained in oEe way or another, unless
We grefer starving to death an alter
native which Z, for one don't relish y
Becky Maatel tied the Shaker bea-
aet resolutely over silky brown curls
which would have driven 5 Broadway
hairdcesser fraatic with envy, and drew
back +he curtains of the kitchen window,
admitting feod of bright May sunshine
over the we'll secured boards
Wsll, after al, there may be as much
romanae IN a kitchen as in a 5oudolr.--
Don't you believe it? Then I wish you
could have seer the bunch of purple
lilac plumes in the pitcher ca the table,
aud the curley white hyaeinths in the
window, and the tin tea kettle prosing on
the stove, and the glowing scarlet peppers
that huag above the chimney, and above
al, Becky herself IN "maddeg rec" calico
that ftted as prettily as if it had been
the royal purple velvet that Mrs. Lincoln
wears on Exception Days. AS for jewels,
she had cot oue--what need of jewels
whea ho7 hazel eyes were all instinct with
diamond Eight and her cheeks like blush
roses against white velvet, apd her pretty
mouth toucbed With vivid crimson such
as yos see where asipe peach IS cleft away
from It's stone.
So Becky Marie stood LOCKING ont CD
the little garden berder where May pinks
crowded the shrinking vioIets out into the
path ,and silver green sontherawood shook
its head solemnly st the varaished gold
of tossing buttercups-but she did not
see the bright show of spring blossoms.
Mrs. Martel groaned dolorausiy as she
Surveyed the stockings she was darning.
Il Rever thougGt daughter of mine
would be reduced SO low"
"As what, mamma ?" said I}eeky, turr-
ing arogrd quickly.
GAS to work for living"
as thas all ?" laughed Becky, euddenly,
kneeling down SO as to bring her cheek
close against the old lady's cap-border.-
"My gracious mamma, what do you sup
pose my hands were given to me for =
Now, if [ was romantic damsel, should
Shed a few tears and take to poetry and
the guitar, and see you suffer and consid-
er myself generaly,iu the light of a victim!
But I'm not!' pursued Becky, setting
her little white teeth close together "and
so am going Up to Miadeau to try and
get situation t2ere."
"As ssamstress? or as seupanio2 to she
housekeaper 2"
"Nej.her," sai& Becky eomposed1y; "aB
aymph of the kitchen aRa lady-president
of the PIES and pastry! Nov, mamma:
don't pray, look 50 horrifed Six dollars
a month is quite Q sum, and tell you
we mEst have moaey"
Mrs. Martle 2G2 not 2ne#er. taxing
refuge in disco2solate series of sighs,
and Becky put the stray earl back
under the Shaker, and walked away up
the country road, 70 where the walls Of
Nilldeau cleaned Whitley Though tic
evergreens upon the hillside.
The superb Bourbon roses hung in
crimson drapery ovar the terrace in front
the honeysuckles we're all alive with
murnuring bees, aad the clOse-shaVen
grass before the portico was sprinkled
with e shower of golden dandeEon BIOS
SONS, as Becky's nadder.red dress brush
ed liz ghtly over them and her elastic foot
pressed down their bright disks.
"Wby, Becky Martel is that you?"
Miss Anastasia Brown, the house
keepers daughter, sat in the curtained
window, reading a yellow covered
book, ip an elegant dishabille of blue
muslin and gathering azure rlbbons-a
pale ycuag lady with Eight eyelsshes and
reddish brown hair, whom ycu woeld have
proaocrced "rather protsy in VtTtze OF
her blue eyes and wax Ike complexion
"Good morning, ARastasia-iS your
mother inS"
"Mamma? Yes, I believe so. She is
up stairs laying out the summer curtains.
Did YOU wish to SEQ her"