Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1870-10-27

sSbeis smArtl See how - stspss'
said III. Means 70 himself, watching hel
ffom under his palm-leaf hat-bsim, with
serene satisfsction. aWhat you got cook.
| ing hsres A soup for dinne4, heyi" be
pursued aloud, lifting the lid Of great
iron pot on the stove, and letting ont .
fragrant steAuing cloud into the room
"Calista Was great hand for EN-. She
used 70 make the best soups with the
least meat Of any woman ever saw"
Calista was the late AraL Means; and u
her husband had praised her In life - be
did in death, she must have been bleaDod
among women.
Il always like plenty 70 do with when
| I cook" returned the Widow Wh0en,
whirling the chuTn- handle with energy
enough TO start the Great Eastern.
a shadow fippled sover Mr.. Means
face. "Calista cooked a. good a. anybody;
but she was always very saetng woman"
said he, ,regretfully.
Then he sprang up 80 briskly that he
overset his skillet Of grease.
"Whati There there thatstoo bad,
nowl I'd no idea tina. plsguy skillet
handle was turned round right inmy wsyl
But just happened to remember there's
quite good sized junk Of porkrind set
away on the top shelf Of the cheese safe
II has been overlooked till its Almost
ready to take hurt I'll reach 1t down
for you while you're cleaning up the
grease. Calista thought there vas moth.
ine like pork for giving favor"
There was 8 toss of MIRA Whaen's cap
strings, but she said nothing a. the phi
laundering old diplomat brought to light .
leathery fqnare Of pork rild. Time TO
put it in now, Mrs. Whalen! Lee me see
what o'clock"
"TH get the dinner, Mr.. Means, II its
all the same TO you" said the widow,
waving her dish-cloth a. II 1t had been 9
scepter.
"Sho, nowl Something's gone wrong
with her." thought Mr.. Means, In surprise.
"Wonder il Phebe's been sggravating
herr If she has, won't put up with it.
Mrs. Whalen sha'n't come to my house to
be aggravated"
Dinner-time came.
"You've got an excellent soup, Mrs
Whslen, ma'am. don't know as Csiista
ever beat it," said Mr.. Means, turning
about the savory fragments with the Ia
die. "Why, where's the pork, left out
for your usef don't find it."
II threw it into the sosp greasei" was
the defiant answer; for Mrs. Whalen,
with all her ambition and all her
weakness, was woman, and wouldn't
bear watching any more than boiling
pot.
Young Amos Means muttered "Jollyl"
under his breath. Mr.. Means looked up
In surprise.
"You don't say soap-grease, msamf'.
There was an awkward pause.
Luckily haven't offered myself yet"
thought Mr.. Means, looking at his fasci.
mating vis oss with pang of renuncis.
ton. "She's spry, capable piece, but
don't understand sc0ing."
At the same time Mrs. Whalen gazed
ruefully at the genuine silver fork near
her plate, and said to herself:
"The house and furniture are Just to
my mind; but there, it's Of no use, can't
stand i'll OF all men, preserve me from q
Betty!"
The willy host observed that che ffowned
into his cup as che passed 1t, and forgot to
put the sugar in; so with an ingratiating
smile, which was meant to be broad and
deep enough to drown oil memory Of
pork rinds, he remarked:
"You do make prime bread, Mrs VIVA
len. most wish I hadn't let my daush-
tel 60 visiting this vacation, it would have
dol {. her SO much good to take lessons Of
you"
Mrs. Whalen passed the sugar With
renewed sweetness.
"But," added Mr.. Means, relapsing into
"You needn't be afraid to set on
the small pieces for me. Pity they should
go to the hens"
This was a crumb too much. Mrs.
Whalen choked. Just as she was clear.
ing her throat for spirited reply the
door opened, and Moses Pitcher walked
in.
"Thought you might be wanting your
mail" said he, producing letter some
what the worse for a splash Of mud.
The widow took it, glanced at the su.
prescription with some surprise, blushed,
rose from the table, and abHntly passed
her folded napkin through the handle Of
the teapot
Handwriting rather agitates her." ex.
planned young Pitcher, as she hurricdly
left the room, and was heard to 60 up
stairs.
"Whcse handwriting ?" demanded Mr.
Means, fierccly. "What do you know
about It'll"
Postmaster said twas Squire Linton's,"
epled Master Paul Pry. Why, how
nice you look here, Uncle Means! 1 al
ways said Mrs. Whalcn was Just the
woman for you"
$50 she isr' thought Mr.. Means, with
an inward grosn. $50 she IL. And eco
nomical enough. Railways thought Calista
was little grain too saving"
"But If what hear Is true, you won't
keep her long, uncle. The squire is on
your track"
"You hear great many things,
Moses" rctorted Uncle Means, snappishly,
"aud talk altogether too much for
yoangster."
Moses retreated, looking back longing
ly at the gooseberry, tart his cousin Amos
was eating with such preternaturally
grave face. While Mrs. Whalen, seated
in the sacred solitude of her own chamber,
with the door locked and her back turned
upon 1t, opened her letter 1t was very
brief-only four lines--yet Mra Whalen
had not finished reading 1t in half an