The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1875-07-30

Jim ISM 6te9Oys EAo - 6toSuy ~ y
clock--at that old fiddle Of his. But
sometimes I do wish he loved his, regular
trade rs we'll. or else that that scas his
trade. v But suppose if fiddling was his
trade, he'd want to be wood.carving oil
the time. "%''7's! E::%# aE&t'3
.n "w :.a!,; don't you speak to him." says
"Well, you can't says I. He's 50
sweet, and good.naturcd and pleasant
that when I've got my mind all made up
to give him sound talking 10, he makes
me like him so, aud sets me to laughing,
and plays such . twirling. twitterink
tune, that can't do it to save my life. !"
| You see, I'd got to talking rather free
with her, because she listened SO, and
seemed interested. and kept looking At
ne in wondering way, and at last took
Sue upon her lap and gave her her rings
to play with. Such rings! Ny grac.
! ious! one Of them flashed with stones all
around, just like the Milky Way. I
should think it would have shone through
her glove.
But" says she. 'you should tell him
that his children will be growing up pres.
emily, and
"Oh. l do that says I. Sand he says,
we'll, he'll do for the bad example there
to take warning by; and, at any rate,
it's no use worrying before the time
comes, and when they do grow up they
can take care of themselves just the way
we do"
And you are contented to leave it SO 2"
says she.
swell, I'm contented enough. This is,
in general. But / do wish sometimes
that Jim would 60 down to his work reg
ular every day, with his tin pail in his
hand, like other men, and come back at
night, and have big round sum of money
in hand at once, instead of working Just
long enough to get some -four and fish
and pork and potatoes and sugar, and
then not so much as lifting his finger
again till all that gives out /; it's such a
hand to.mouth way Of living,'' says L.
"And Of course We can't get things to-
gethcr, such as a rocking-chair, and a
sofa, and good.sized looking-glass, and
All eight.day clock. Not that I care
much; only when lady like you hap.
pens in I'd like to give her q seat that's
softer. And there's bureau. Now you
wouldn't believe it, but I've never owned
a bureau
"Indeed." says she.
eyes. l don't think it's good manners
to be always apologizing about the looks
of place; and so don't say anything
about all the boxes and bundles have
to keep my things in, that do give lit
terry look but am always meaning to
have bureau to put them in, if I can
compass it ever. You see, it's hard GET
ting so much money in pile; and il
do happen to, why then there's some-
thing must have, like Jim's boots, or
flannel and yarn cloth, or little bod
because you can't sleep with more than
two children in one bed. And so, some.
how, never get the bureau. But then
don't give it up. Oh, I suppose you
think my notions are dreadful extrav-
agant,' says I, for she was looking at me
perfectly amazed; really, just as if l was
little monster, and she'd never seen tho
like. Sand perhaps they are. But PEG.
pie must have something to ambition
them, and it seems to me as though, if I
ever could get bureau, should most
feel as if I'd got a house!''
swell, declared! says she, drawing of
long breath.
81 did come precious near it last fall.
says I--for l wanted her to see that it
wasn't altogether an impossibility, and
wasn't wasting my time in vapors--
when Jim was at work up here, helping
lay out the garden. He was paid by the
day, you know; Mr.. Mulgrave paid him !;
and he was paid here, and l had the
handling of the money; and said to
myself, Now or never for the bureau!
But, dear me, had to turn the money
over so many times to get the things /
couldn't do without any way at all that
before got round to the bureau it was
every cent gone!''
"Yes,' she says, Its apt to be so.
know if don't get the expensive thing
when l have the money in my purse, the
money is filtered away and I've nothing
to show for it,
"That's just the way it is with me, :"
says I. "But somehow I can't seem to
do without the shoes and flannel, and all
that. Oh, here's your husband! That s
powerful horse Of his. But I Should be
afraid he'd break my neck if l was be-
hind him.
"Not when my husbands driving,"
says she. And she bids me good-day,
| and kisses Sue, and springs into the wag.
on, and is off like bird, with her veil
and feathers and her ribbons and stream.
ers all flying.
Well, so far 80 good. Thinks to my
self; "She'll be a very pleasant nei ghb Dor.
If she's ever so fine, she don't put on
airs. And it does you good once in a
while to have somebody listen when you
want to run on about yourself. And
maybe she'll have odd chores that 1 can
turn my hands too-plain sewing, or
clear.starching, or an extra help when
company comes in. I shouldn't wonder
if We were quite mutual advantage
And so told Jim, and he said he
shouldn't wonder too.
Well, that evening, just at sunset NOW
I'm telling you the real truth, and if you
don't believe me, there it is to speak for
itseil-Jim was APPLYING "Roslin Cas-
tie, and l was a.putting Sue to sleep,
when l happened to look out the window,
and there was a job.wagor coming
straight up the hill, with something in it
that had great canvas hanging over it.
ITS . queer time o'day," says I to my.
sell, ITO be bringing furniture into Mr..
Mulgrave's house, and it not half done,
either. But it's none of my business.
Maybe it's refrigerator to be set in the
cellar" And went on patting Sue,
when all at once Jim's fiddle stopped
short, as if it broke, and I heard 4 gruff
voice saying, ''Where'll' you have it!
Here, you, Sir, lend a hand" And I