Knoxville journal. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1874-1986, 1875-04-22

lew sparks Of fire, over which was q
small saucepan. On the table was tea
tray and portion of a previous days
loaf. 1t was such depressing welcome
home after the weary, weary day that
with difficulty the poor girl could con.
troll her emotion.
lis that you, Clares" inquired the
widows feeble voice.
Yes, mother"
| Come to me, my child"
Clare pressed her white hands to her
bosom, made an effort, and passed into
the bedroom. But the mothers first
words beat down all her noble souled
heroic self-repression.
| Clare, dear, you had better success
to-day!'
The girl dropped on chair and, bury
ing her face in the coverlet, burst into a
paroxysm of weeping.
| mo, mother" she sobbed, hysteri-
cally, sits the same old, old story; /
can get nothing. What shall we do!
feel heart-broken
| Glare, Clare, my child calculated
the mother, fondly embracing her, !" do
not you give way! What, indeed, will
become of us them My brave, brave
girl, do not weep thus"
Pray let me, mother; shall be better
after it,"
She, apparently, was right, for at the
end of few moments she looked up
calmer; her tears ceased.
| There" she smiled; 81 am better
now. ats good to give way at times,
you know. At least, one can't help it,
and our lot is 80 hard; but we shall get
used to it."
lizard! 1t breaks my heart to con-
template it when / think of you, Clare.
What different future did / and your
father intend you, love! But who could
imagine such villain as John Burge
ever existed?"
"Ah, me-ah, me! to look round at
this place, and remember the pleasant
home which once was ours! Now, we
are alone, with not single friend in the
world"
"Not one! Oh, yes, mother, believe
me, one" cried the girl, quickly. He
-Gilhert-will be true-trust me, he
will"
why, then, Glare, has he not writ
tenn"
81 do not know cannot tell" ex-
claimed the daughter, piteously; "but,
oh! pray, pray, mother, do not take that
hope from me! Let me believe in Gil
bert. 1t is my only support in this bitter
miseryr'
The widow, touched with pleading
countenance, was about to reply, when,
interrupting herself, she said Clare, l
hear some one in the parlor. See who 1t
is, dear"
The girl obeyed, and started at the
weird scene she beheld.
Seated before the CRATE on a three
legged stool was the cobbler, yet in leath-
ern apron and cap. On his knees was a
bellows, which he was working with con-
summate skill, evidently master of the
art, sending the Goals into bright blazes
that threw flashes of lurid color over the
quaint figure and the room.
Upon hearing Clare he turned, almost
with a snarl.
"How do you expect to boil a sauce.
pan with such fire as tbis?" he growled.
"Never was halter as mad as you, Pm
certain. Now, look at that; amt it a
picture?"
Glare did look, and saw that not only
were the Goals increased, but that they
were not from their own store.
cit is quite cheering" she managed to
| say, but-but, fear, Mr.. Craysha W,
you have been robbing yourself"
Robbing myself?-me?-not bit.
I'm miser. Didn't you hear the boys
call me so-Jerry, the miser'" he snapped.
"Pd rob anybody sooner than my
self. am miser, and Pm proud of 1t.
Some men are called painter and poet.
Well, I'm called cobbler and miser."
Reallyp said Clare, little amused,
little frightened, looking at the glow
| ing Goals; 81 should have scarcely
I thought So"
THAT shows your ignorance" re-
sponded Jerry. Cant you see, by cal
| culation, it's cheaper to keep up one good
| fire than two small onesg So I'm going
to sit by yours. Also, clubbing two per-
sons, tea together is cheaper than taking
| it alone. 1t makes only one for the
pot necessary. You perceive, now, /
am miser. want to have my tea here.
Clare looked at the table; upon it was
a new loaf, fresh butter, eggs, and neat
package of tea.
"Oh, Mr.. Crayshaw---" she began.
care you going to refuses" he snapped
| "Mayn't have tea?"
"How could l refuse" she began,
when he interrupted by:
"Then don't lose time. See TO the
kettle I'll boil the eggs"
Similar behavior from some people
might have given offense, but there
was such quaint, odd way about
Jerry that robbed it of that power.
He was so old, and snapped and
snarled as if really his suggestion
was the result of deep-rooted meanness
instead of the contrary. Mrs. Weston
did make some demur but Jerry shut her
up at once.
al see. She's frightened at your TAX
ing tea with such fascinating young
fellow as / am" he said. Leave the
door ajar; then the old lady can take a
squint at us now and then and join the
talk. I'm a wild young sprig, ! con-
TESS"
Glare could not refrain from bursting
into merry peal of laughter. Jerry's
gray eyes twinkled with delight under
his shaggy brows as he looked up at her.
Well, the two hustled about, the cob.
bier certainly the brisker, until finally
| thew were seated at very comfortable