The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1872-08-16

mentS ate ler breakfast alone, the traces j
of tear or so on her pink cheek; then /
she dashed them away with a merry, /
joyous little laugh.
"This will never do, and now that
George has gone for six weeks, 10 pre- /
pare for his return. And pray Heaven
il shall be such coming as shall de-
light his very soul.n
'I'm sure I don't know what to say.
The land knows need help bad enough,
but il pears to me such a slender little
midget as you couldn't earn your salt.
What did you say your name was p
"Mary Smith. And indeed if you
will try me for 2 week, | am sure you
will keep me till the seasons over
Mrs. Clements looked out Of the win
dow az the great clouds that were piling
gloomily up; and then the wind gave a
great wailing shrek around the corners
of the house.
"You can cook, ken youe or shake up
feather beds-goOd big ones, forty
Founders ,"
A gleeful little laugh came from
Mary's lips.
'Indeed I can. I may not cook to
suit you, but l can learn"
Mrs. Clements walked out to the
large open fireplace in the kitchen
where the Deacon was shelling corn.
"What dye say, Deacon; keep her or
not? l kind o. like her looks, and the
dear knows it 'ud be n good lift while
we're KILN, if she couldn't do more'n
set the table or make mush for the
bread"
"Take her, of course, Hannah. You
are hard driv' / know. Let her stop
week or so anyhow
So Mrs. Clements came slowly back
and sat down again.
"lOu can't get away tonight, any
how; there's a snow storm been n brew
in these three days, and it's on US now,
sure enough. See them 'ere flakes, fine
and thick. You may as well take your
| things up stairs to the west garret, and
then come down and help me get sup
per-"
Then followed directions to the west
garret, and when she was gone, Mrs.
Clements turned to the Deacon:
81 never saw girl before I'd trust up
stairs alone. But such as her don't
steal; can tell you that if nothing
else"
Directly she came down in a purple
print dress and white apron; her hair
/ brushed off from her face into n net; q
narrow linen collar, fastened with a
/ sailors loop of narrow black ribbon.
1t seemed as If she had life, too; hand
/ ily she fitted in and out of the big pan
| try and then down the cellar.
Then after the meal, she gathered the
dishes in n neat, silent way, that was
perfect bliss TO Mrs. Clements ears.
"She's determined to earn her bread
anyhow; and / like her turn too"
And the Deacon had "taken a shineu
to Mary Smith.
One by one the days wore on; the hog
killing was over and done; long strings
of sausages were hung i'm fantastic rings,
arranged by Mary's deft fingers; sweet
hams and shoulders were piled away in
a true, house eWifely manner, and now
Mary and Mrs. Clements were sitting i'm
the sunny dining-room, darning, patch
ing and meuding.
81 don't know what am going to do
without you, Mary. / dread TO see YOU
pack up your clothes.n
A blush Of pleasure overspread Mary's
face.
81 am so glad you have been suited
with my work. Indeed Pve tried.u
cit amt the work altogether though
goodness knows, you're the smartest gal
pve seen this many a day. As / say, it
amt the work, it's you, Mary. Tve got
to thinking heap Of yOu-me and the
Deacon.n
Mary's voice trembIed at the kind
ness of the old lady's voice, but she
sewed rapidly on.
'Ips so uncommon lonesome like
since the boy left the farm; but it's
worse yet since he got married. 1t
seems like deserting us altogether"
Have you son? You never men,
toned him"
"No, George has gone his way and we
must go ours. Yes, he married one of
those crack-headed bOarding-school DeO-
pie, who can't tell the difference be-
tween n rOlling-pin and n milk-pan."
But despite her scorn, Mrs. Clements
dashed of the tears with her brown fist
us his wife pretty? l suppose you
love her dearly.1
Il don't know anything about her,
and never want to know. He's left us
for her, and Us old folks will leave him
Tor her too. Mary just turn them cakes
around; seems as if they're burning"
When Mary had turned the cakes,
MIS-. Clements was leaning over the arm
Of her chair.
Mary, supposin' you stop on with us
another month yet, anyhow. The Dea-
con VIII make it all right"
-, 1t isn't the money care for, Mrs.
Clements, l only wish / might stay al
ways. You don't know how much |
love yOu.n
Love us. DO you? Bless you heart
II poor George had only picked you out,
what comfort it would be to us ALI
But II can't be helped now.n
oIie signed wearily, then glanced out
OF the window, looked a moment and
then thew down her work.
BLESS my soul, if there amt our son
George coming up the lane, Deacon.
Deacon. George is cOmingr'
And all her mother-lOve rushing 10
her heart, she hurried out to meet him.
Oh, the welcoming, the Teproaches, the
caresses, the determination TO love him
still, despite poor innocent little Ma
riOn.
Then when the table had been set in
the the next room by Mary's deft fin
gers, and she had returned TO her twest
garrett Mrs. Clements opened her
heart.
"There's no use talkin', George, this
fine, fancy lady o yours III never suit
me. Give me smart girl like Mary
I smith, and I'll ask no more. Come in
to supper now. Mary, Mary"
she raised her voice TO call the girl,
when low voice near her surprised
her
"Oh, you dressed up in honor o. my
boy. Well, must confess never knew
you had such a handsome dress, and
you look like a picture with your net
of, and them short, bobbin' curlsl
George, this is Mary Smith, my"
George came through the door, and
glanced carelessly at the corner where
the young woman stood. Then, with
cry, sprang with outstretched arms to