The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1870-04-08
OUT IN THE Rim.

Sprinkle : shower : rain righ
down on Millie Warmers tasteful lit
tie hat and ON her graceful shoulders
unprotected save by thin shawl, not
withstanding the beseeching glanc,
of the prettiest pair of hazel eyes thai
ever looked up to a cloud that way.
! When Millie came TO a large farm,
house she very glad, and rather hast
! ily-for just then there was Il heavy
peal of fthunder-opened the gate anC
went up the flOwer-bortlered path Il
the house and knocked for admit.
tance. Nobody answered, and rs an
other peal of thunder was heard, ac.
cOmpanied by vivid flash of light
ming, MiIlie entered without cere-
mOHy. She took at a glance the con-
tents of the room, plainly but neatly
! ftIrnished-the eaDe-seated chairs, the
chintz-coVered lounge, bookcase fill
ed with books and sheet music, the
violin i'm its place i'm the corner, the
vase of faded flowers, and the orna-
ments on the mantle. There was no
one here, but she heard a childish
voice IN the next room, and again
! knocked. A dark-eyed girl of ten
years opened the door.
MiIlie explained why she was there.
With the ease and good manners OF
one much older, the child babe her
welcome, placed chair near the stove
and took Miles dripping hat and
shawl
al was just beginning TO get dinner,
that was the reason / didn't hear you
knock. It will be a long time before
Tho CI.ourov. i oxrays o,ad xyo11 Y,arfcf Of Z
with us to dinner. 1t will be ready
by the time Ben comes: but that will
not be before an hOurn
"Es, dinnie'll be weddy when Ben
tums," lisped and laughed Il little
child of three years.
The elder child, whose name was
| Hetty, resumed
al can't get very good dinner, !
amt quite old enough, but Ben says
/ do very nicely. He puts it on for
me, and see to il. But he does not
allow me to take off the kettles, for
fear will burn or scald myself; but /
think l am large enough to do that. !
like to have everything ready for him
when he comes in cold and hungry.
| / can't make biscuit-wish | could,
1 for Ben likes them ever so much; but
Martha, who comes in and makes
bread for us, says she will teach me?
"Where is your mother ?'' asked
Millie of the little Eva, when Hetty
was out of the room.
awe is got no mudder but Ben, "
the little one lisped.
When Hetty came back, Miilie
said:
"NOw that have got nicely warmed,
and my dress will dry as well at work
as sitting still, 1 will help you get
dinner. If you like, | will make some
biscuit, and we will have dinner ready
i'm a very short time"
Hetty was delighted. Ben would
be 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 a
pOtatOe with fork:
"The potatoes are done. / will
pour the water Off so, then put them
on again to dry. That will make
them mealy. I'm 4 few minutes we
will peel them and then dinner will
be ali ready except taking up"
The dinner seemed very meagre TO
little Hetty rs she ran over the items
i'm her mind, potatoes, peas, pork, but
ter, cucumber, milk, water. She had
wanted to make tea for her visitor,
but she declined decidedly. The poor
child said, alphabetically:
"When father and mother were
alive we used to have a good many
things for dinner, and Martha, our
hired girl, used to get them, but when
they died, and Squire Johns said he
bought a mortgage on our farm and
that we had got 10 pay every cent the
day it was due or lose everything, we
had 10 do without a 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
NAV look for no mercy from Squire
Johns, for he is a very hard man to
the poor, and he has always wanted
our farm, because il joins some of his
own land where he wants to build.
heard all about il when one of the
neighbors WAS talking with Ben, al
though he didn't want me to know
about il.
MiIIie had listened 10 this with a
curious mixture of feeling, for Squire
Johns was declared lover of hers and
though she had not accepted him,
she had been pleased with his, atten-
ton, and had certainly given him en-
cOuragement. Moreover, he was td
receive his final answer in three days
from that time, and she was not sure
| the answer reserved and laid away
4 for the time was ''NO." True, Millie
was not in love with him, but she had
waited SO long in vain for that ecsta-
tic state of feeling she had read and
heard so much about, that she was
not capable of love, and that to like
any one, was as much as she could eX-
pect. But she certainly liked Squire
/ Johns rs well as if not better than any
one else, and his love must be certain
/ ly disinterested, 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 man be likely 10 marry
poor girl? For Millie Warner was
really heiress in a small way. She
was sole inheritOr of a small unen-
numbered farm from her father, and
] five thousand dollars in bank stock
But the farm was two hundred miles
south of this town, where she was
visiting a cousin, and nobody knew
of it; and during her visit she had
always helped her mother when she
was at hOme-capable, industrious
l little girl that she was,