Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1870-02-17
seIeft Story.
OUT IN THE RAIN.

OUT IN THE RAIN
Sprinkle ! showerI rain! right down
on Millie Warner's tasteful little tlatand
graceful shoulders. unprotected save by
thin shawl, notwithstanding the be-
seeching glance of the prettiest pair of
hazel eyes that ever looked up to a cloud
that way.
When Millie came to large farm
house she very gladly, and rather hastily
for just then there was a heavy peal OF
thunder-openedt the gate and went up
the efiower-bordered path to the house and
knocked for admittance. Nobody an
swered, and as another peal of thunder
was heard, accompanied by vivid flash
oflightning, Millie entered without GER
emony. She took at a glance the con-
tents of the room she came to, q large
square room, plainly but neatly furnish
ed-the cane-seated chairs, the chintZ-
covered lounge, bookcase filled with
books and sheet music the violin in its
case in the corner, the vase of faded
flowers, aud the ornaments on the man
tie. There was no one here, but she
heard childish voice in the room, and
again knocked. A dark-eyed girl of
ten or eleven years opened the door.
Miilie explained why she was there.
With the ease and good manners of one
much older, the child bade her welcome,
placed a chair near the stove and took
Miilie,s dripping hat and shawl.
was just beginning to get dinner,
that was the reason 1 didn't hear you
knock. 1t will be a long time before the
shower is over, and-you must stay with
US to dinner. 1t will be ready by the
the time Ben comes, but that will not be
for an hour. "
"Es, dinnie'll be weddy when Ben
tums, lisped and laughed little child
of three years.
The older child, whose name was Het-
ty, resumed
:" | can't get a very good dinner, l
amt quite old enough, but Ben says |
do nicely. He puts it on for me, and
/ see to it. But he does not allow me to
take off the kettles, for fear will burn
or scald myself; but / think am large
enough to do that. L like to have every
thing ready for him when he comes in
tired and hungry. 1 can't make biscuit
wish i could, for Ben likes them ever
so much; but Martha who comes in TO
make bread for US, says she will teach
me. -.
Where is your mother?n asked Mil
lie of the little Eva when Hetty was out
ofthe room.
I'VE is got no mudder but Ben, 7" the
little one lisped.
When Hetty came back, Millie said !:
Now that L have got nicely warmed
and my dress will dry as well at work as
sitting still, so L will help you get din
ner. Ii you like, L will make some bis
cult, and we will have dinner ready in a
very short time"
Hetty was delighted. Ben would be
p glad. Might she look on and learn how
Millie was young, and frank, and gay,
and she and the children soon became
very well acquainted over the biscuit.
She said, presently, trying potato with
fork:
1.-The potatoes are done. [ will pour
the water off so, then put them on again
TO dry. That will make them mealy. In
few minutes we will peal them, and
then dtHner will be all ready except
taking it up.''
The dinner seemed very meagre toIit-
tie Hetty as she ran over the items in
her mind, potatoes, peas, pork, biscuit,
butter, cucumber, milk, water. She had
wanted to make tea for her visitor, but
she declined decidedly. The poor child
said apologetically
4" When father and mother were alive
we used to have good many things for
dinner, and Martha our hired girl, used
to get them all; but when they died, and
Squire Johns said he bought mortgage
on our farm and that we had got TO pay
every cent the day it was due or lose
everything, we had to do without good
many things, and we are very poor now,
and Ben is afraid we can't have enough
to pay it, and they all say we may look
for no mercy from Squire Johns, for he
le o J., ord f,.+ +l,ay hn
has always wanted our farm, because it
joins some of his own land where ne
wants to build. L heard all about it
when one of the neighbors was talking
with Ben, though he didn't want me to
know about it.
Millie had listened to this with Curl
Gus mixture of feeling, for Squire Johns
was declared lover of hers, and though
she had not accepted him, she had been
pleased with his attention, aud had GER
tainly given him encouragement.
Moreover, he was to receive his final
answer in three days from that time,
and she was not sure the answer re-
served and laid away for the time was
no." True, Millie was not in love
with him, but she had waited so long in
vain for that ecstatic state of feeling she
had read and heard so much about, that
she was not capable of love, and that to
like az y one was as mucn as she could
expect. But she certainly liked Squire
Johns as well as If not better than any
one, and his love must be certainly dis
interested, for he could not know that
but now Millie stopped. Could he not?
Might he not have found out in some
way? If this story were true, would
such a man be likely to marry Il poor
girl? For Millie Warner was really an
heiress. in small way. She was sole in
heritor of q small !unencumbered farm
from her father, and five thousand dol
lars in bank stock, But the farm Was
two hundred miles south of this town,
where she was visiting a cousin, ami
nobody knew of it; and during her visit
she had helped her cousin in her work
as she had always helped her mother
when she was home-capable, industri-
GUS little girl that she was.
The story agreed with things that she
had heard limited at, but only limited at,
and even that the next moment was
smoothed over, for Squire. Johns was a
rich and influential man, and people
could not afford without some reason, to
lose his favor. She remembered it all
now. Could he in reality be such a
scoundrel?
She could judge better about the truth
of the story when she had seen Ben.
Who was he? Two or three inquiries