Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1869-12-23
GOING SHOPPING.

GOING SHOPPING.
The damp dewy breeze came up
from the dells and hollows innumer-
able, and yet Charley Byron stood
leaning over q little wicket gate,
carpet bag on his arm, though the
cars were momentarily expected at
the rural station below the hill, ex-
changing last words with his only
sister, the little orphaned thing he
loved so dearly. He could not bear
to leave her again with the acid old
aunt, who was bringing her up" or
snubbing her down; and yet what
sort of a home could he, solitary
business man, offer her in a crowded
city? 1t seemed almost rs if his
brief visit of two or three days had
rather depressed her than otherwise.
ssCome, Bertha, what does make
you so sober?" said he, putting his
hand under the little chin, SO that
the humid hazel eyes were turned
full toward his own. "Aunt Hepsy
has gone in for fear of night dews
and rheumatism-tell me about the
trOubles?"
cit is so silly" murmured the
girl, hiding her face on his shout
ders, and twisting the buttons on his
travelling coat round and round.
"Of course it isl expect that, as a
matter of course" said he, laughing;
"but let's hear what it is"
"Well, then, Charley, don't laugh
at me now. Mary Ellis, my old
schoolmate, you know, in New York +,
gives a splendid party next week,
and I am invited. Mr.. st. Aubyn
il to be there-her cousin from Eu-
rope-and-and-I do want to 60 SO
terribly" and Bertha began to cry
on Charley's shoulder.
swell, then, why don't you go?'
"Aunt Hepsy won't let mel"
sobbed the aggrieved damsel; "she
says parties are sinful, and'-
"What else?' said Charley, sooth-
ingly. .
II haven't anything to wear!"
and Herewith came fresh shower
of tears.
Charley was silent for a moment,
thoughtfully smoothing down the
bright chestnut curls. At length
he spoke:
SWELL manage it, Bertha. Aunt
Hepsy won'tlet you come to a party,
but she'll let you come and see me.
I'll write for you as soon as l reach
home"
"But the dress?"
"Tll see to it dear-there, don't
YOU hear the whistle? must run
away from you now-one more kiss,
and goodbye"
The next moment he was gone
Bertha was smiling through the
scarce dry tears-and Aunt Hepsy
was screaming for her niece to como
in out of the dew-''was she crazy?"
During the whole of his long night
journey, Charley Byron pondered on
the onerous charge he had underta-
ken. He knew no moro about the
mysteries Of dress than his carpet
bag did; he had no lady acquain-
lance in New York on whom he
could call for aid, for he was one Of
those shy, reserved characters, who
seem cut out to become Old
bachelors-and yet, with all the pre-
surnptuous bliss of ignorance, he had
the impndence to suppose that he
could manage matters perfectly well.
The first thing after he had writ
ten the letter which was to bring
little Bertha down to New York for
q short visit, he brushed his hat, tied
his cravat, and went out shopping!
"For," argued he, mentally, mo-
body knows how long 1t will take to
sew the plaguey lituethings up after
they are bought"
So with plenty Of money In his
purse, and q vaiorous heart, he sal
lied forth, determined to conceal his
ignorance on the subject as much as
nossible. But what on earth to ask
for he didn't know; some thing ne
knew that the ladies wear that looked
light and fleecy and cloud-like; but
whether Il was ,wOolen or cotton, or
,ybuekfana, he didn't know. But ne
wasn't to be daunted.
s.Whatisthsstn6 thatladisswsaF7"