Richland beacon. [volume] (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890, 1873-06-07

will probably say the same things 10 Mo-
lie Blake. and she will believe them. jus'
~ did
said Aunt Susan. IL s'pose you thought
VIII Wallace would be satisfied with
YOU. after livin' in the city, but | hop,
YOU see now that he's just like the rest Of
folks. Mollic Blakc'S fine feathers hav,
done it,"
Iiarrie answered. Il know better. Ii
isn't Molle's fine feathers. as you say.
but il NAV be something else. and with
good reason. His life is growing broader
and wider every dav. and mine is narrow,
! with no prospect of being any other way.
| suppose he's just out@rOvjng me. tha.' :
all.
Him. well. maybe that satisfies you
but if that's wha farming. and books.
and going to the city does. | don't want
Ia GO
II might not have that effect upon you.
aunt" said IIarric. smiling.
well. | knew just how 'twould De-
/ You always thought yourself better and
smarter than the rest Of us, and nobody
was good enough for You: and you see
how It's. Pride is pretty sure 10 have a
fall"
/ How unjust ali that was. and IIarrie
knew ii, too! Couldn't her aunt see that
tured beyond what she could bear? The
angry spirit was rising rapidly within her:
but she wouldn't allow herself the luxury
OF talking back. She would not show her
hurt To this cruel woman more than she
could help. She took hot flat-iron, and
not stopping to examine its fitness for
muslin. she threw it down with an energy
born Of her desperation upon the frail
fabric. Lo, it left its shape done in
brown upon the goods. right on the front
breadth of the dainty dress. and the
smoke that arose from it was a witness OF
her rashncsS and the harm. Quick a
! thought flashed upon her. Now | can't
90, now can't 90; and I'm glad I'm
glad ~ She had been wondering what
reasonable excuse she could invent. and
here was a good one at her hand. To be-
sure her aching head would have been
sufficient: but that she must not own to.
Her heavy heart was excuse enough, but
what woman can make such trifie as
that weigh against her pride. Aunt Su-
sans scOlding over the burnt breadth was
like music. Ii could not repair the
damage and make it preseatablc, so she
might scOld. Now it must be confessed
that one party dress was all our nar-
rie owned and that being new was to do
service. with sundry changes in trim
mingS. &C.. through all the summer. As
she looked at the ugly Disagreement she
realized that it meant the expense of Il
new breadth. and days work at least
and she felt that more than that it was
sort of witness against her. Of course
she could have helped it but she would
not admit yet but that she was heartily
glad.
There was no denying that Harrie was
in bad humOr. and the beautiful trait of
trust was in no wise developing under this
little test.
Now it might have been so different.
She was very young. and her aunt was so
far away from her in thought and feeling.
that she felt obliged to hide her own. a
little judiciouS advice. little insight into
Harrie's nature, and Aunt Susan could
have smOothed out many of the rough
places. and in place of doubt and distrust.
and impatience. brought to life faith, and
confidence and calmness.
Women know so well how to torture
each other. they have such quickness to
find out the tender spot, wonder they do
not study more the way to help. Since
through their own natures they know
much of every other wOman's, | wonder
they do not love TO pour the balm they
are one day pretty sure to need them
selves.
The day went by. the evening came on
soft and cool. The day had closed so diff
ferently from what Harrie had intended
that morning as she leaned on the gate.
What long day it had been, and how
full of vexations; and was there any one
else i'm the little town who had such a
heavy heart as hers. She knew the Blakes
were expecting their guests now; that all
fh.t, fh..i
prettiest dresses, and brightest smiles, and
she sat all fOrlOrn. waiting to put the chill
dren to bed. after which she proposed
having good time by indulging in cry.
The children were rather more exasperat-
ing than usual; Susy wanted to hear sew
eral stories, and Louie begged for little
more play. Finally she compromised the
matter. by promising double portion to-
morrow night and they succumbed.
Dan hal not yet made his appearance.
Pretty soon he came, and wanted to see
Cousin Iarrie. and tell her something.
He commenced in roundabout fashion,
in this wise:
81 say, Harri :, would you be awful mad.
if fellow'd done a mean thing and was
sorry for it?'
Il don't know. Dan, maybe | wouldn't.
Whose been doing an awful mean thing?'
Il have. but didn't mean to, and Id
give anything if could undo it." said the
penitent Dan.
"Well, wouldn't feel so bad them"
said Harrie, not intensely interested in
Dams delnquencies. She concluded he
had fibbed, or ran away from school, or
clicked some smaller boy which, accord
ing to his code of honor. was mean, or
borrowed some boys fish line or gun
without asking, or some such henOus
Offense; and so she was not just in the
mood for playing cOnfessor.
Il say, Harrie, would you forgive fell
Ter? | was awful mean, but | forgot to
give ii to you, and then went cunning,
and since that I'd forgot it. | thought
twas too late. any way. And | used it
for waddin'. and Oh, dear, tell you I'm
dreadful sorry. and l couldn't say my
prayers till told you"
"What in the world do you mean 2"
said Harrie, "please tell me all about it? |
don't understand thing you say"
"Well, now, twas just this way.
| When | was coming home from school
! this noon, Will Wallace, that feller that's
always comm up here to see you, you
know, was standil' on the tavern steps,
when he see me, he said, Oh, Dan, wait
a minute. | wish you'd give this little
note to your cousin. Miss Harrie. and |
said wouldn't forget it, but did,"
"Oh Dan" said Harrie.
"Just wait minute" said the boy, who
by this time began To be interested in his
own story, ''you see met the other boys.