Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1875-10-14
TAXING A SITUATION.

WELL, girls" said my Uncle Barna-
bias, land now what do you propose to do
about it -
We sat around the fire in a disconso-
late semi-ci1cle, that dreary, drizzling
May night, when the rain battered against
the window panes and the poor little daft
fOdils in the borders shook and shivered
as if they would fain hide their golden
heads once more in the mother-soil. My
mother, Eleanor and |. The first, pale,
and pretty, and silverhaired, with the
widows cap and her dress of black bonn
bazinc and Grape; the sWeetest-lOOking
old lady, | think, that | ever saw. Flea
nor sat beside her, looking, she always
did, like a princess, with large, dark eyes,
Diana-lil<e features, and hair twisted in
sort of coronal around her queenly head.
While |, plain, homespun Susannah-
commonly called, g for Short" Susy-
crOuched upon Il footstool in the corner,
my elbows on my knees and my chin in
my hands.
Uncle Barnabas Berkelin sat in the
grim. He was stout and short, with
grizzled mustache, q little, round bald
spot on the crown Of his head, and two
glittering black eyes that were always
sending their dusky lightnings in the di-
rection least expected. Uncle Barnabas
was rich and we were poor. Uncle Bar
nabas was wise in the ways of the world,
and we were inexperienced Uncle Bar
nabas was prosperous in all he did; while,
if there was bad bargain to be made, we
were pretty sure to be the ones to make
it. Consequently, and as a matter of
course, we looked up to Uncle Barnabas,
and reverenced his opinions.
What do we propose to do about it?"
Eleanor slowly repeated, lifting her beau
tiful jetty brows.
Yes, that's exactly it." said my moth
er, nervously; because, Brother Barna-
bas, we don't pretend to be business
women, and it's certain that we cannot
live comfortably on our present income
Something has got to be done"
And then my mother leaned back in her
chair with troubled face.
YES" said Uncle Barnabas, "some-
thing has got to be done! But who's to do
it?"
And another dead silence succeeded.
e suppose your girls are educated?''
said Uncle Barnabas. Il know | found
ensugh old school-bills when I was look
ing over my brothers papers,"
"Of course" said my mother, with evil
dent pride; their education has been
most expensive. Music, drawing, use of
Yes, yes, of course," interrupted Uncle
Barnabas. But is it practical? Can they
teach?"
Eleanor looked dubious. l was quite
certain that 1 could not. Nine. Lenoir,
among all her list of accomplishments
had not included the art of practical tut
ton.
"Humphm grunted Uncle Barnabas
"Quecr thing, this modern idea Of educa
ton. Well, if you can't teach you Car
surely do something! What do you say
Eleanor, to situation?"
"A situation?"
The color t1uttered in Eleanor's cheek:
like pink and white apple blossoms
4 spoke plain enough, didn't I:'' sale
Uncle Barnabas, dryly. YES, a sjtua
tioni'
What sort of situation, Uncle Barna
bas ~
Well, [ can hardly say. Part servant
part companion TO an elderly LADY," ex
planned the old gentleman.
Oh, Uncle Barnabas, | couldn't d.
that
" Not do it? And why not?"
" It's too much-too muchr Whispered
Eleanor, losing her regal dignity in tn