Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1875-09-09

with your bawling songs! Go to work
now and don't let me hear any more out
OF your head"
Why, Cousin Arabella," began asweet,
small voice, full Of tears.
Don't Cousin mer' broke in that
young lady. "Quit your blubber-
ing and go to work!'-and giving the
door a slam, as if to add part
ing emphasis to her commands, she glided
upstairs again, and, stopping long enough
to look in the mirror on the hat-stand in
the hall, wreathed her distorted face in
the blandest of smiles, opened the parlor
door, which Clarence had again closed,
and was all sunshine to him who still sat
there as if spell-bound. His first impulse
had been to seize his hat and rush
into the street; but he was arrest
ed by the pleading eloquence of that
same sweet voice he had listened
to while singing his favorite song,
and so he closed the door and again seated
himself to await Arabella's return.
You really must think me rude and
unlady-like, Mr.. Lee, for leaving you so
long to yourself; but | only went down to
tell Bridget to give us another of those
droll songs of hers. They seem to interest
you So and they do sound rather wild and
romantic, [ confess
| He was surprised at her cool, deliberate
falsehood, and looked up, expecting that
she would at least blush; but there she
stood, calm, complacent and unblushing,
with that same unvarying smile on her
face that Clarence had, within one short
hour, learned to despise.
Yes" he replied, q heard you tell
her" That was all-all he said, and,
,epping into the hall, took his hat and
gloves and walked away, with a cool
"Good-evening, leaving Arabella feeling
rather cresttallen, for she saw at a glance
her beautiful castle in the air all fallen to
the ground. She knew he must despise
| her, but her only regret was that she had
lost a handsome beau and could no longer
| look forward to old Mr.. Lees estate as her
own in the future But she determined to
vent out her spite on poor little Lettie.
This all happened the evening beforemy
story commences, so you may know that
Lettie's heart was heavy enough on this
hot July morning, with all the weeks
ironing on her hands, besides the rest of
the family housework. No wonder she
| sighed often, to herself; no wonder the
| gentle, brown eyes were full of tears
| But the ironing was all done at last The
sheets and pilloW-cases hung, smooth and
| SpotleSs, on the clothes-bars and the table
cloths and napkins were folded neatly and
laid on the broad shelf by the stove, to
thoroughly air before putting away in the
drawer, while Arabella's ruffles and laces
and embroideries were all starched
and tluted and crimped to perfection,
so that even that lady herself could find no
fault with them.
| The dinner over and the afternoon work
out of the way, Lettie flew up to her own
| little room as to a haven of security, for
here no one ever intruded upon her 1t
was up too high for Mrs. St. John to drag
her fat, dumpy figure, and as long as
Arabella could summon Lettie at her bid
ding she had no idea of climbing up the
kitchen stairs to see what she was doing
This little sanctum of Lettie's was by no
means an inviting-looking room. The
floor was bare with the exception of a
small piece Of torn and faded rag carpet
that Lettie had one day fished out of the
ash-heap and cleaned and spread before
her bed. The walls, also, were cherries
and unpapered, but she had two pictures
which she had cut out Of pictorial news
paper which she found once in the street.
One of these Lettie never tired of gazing
at. 1t was the picture of little curly
headed girl, just out of bed on Christmas
morning, taking the first peep into her
stocking, which was crammed full Of
goodies; and as Lettie looked at the bright
face and happy eyes she remembered a
time far away-at least it seemed far away
to think of, she felt so old nova time
when she, too, hung up her stocking and
had Merry Christmas like this little girl
IN the picture; and then she turned to the
bit OF broken looking-glas that lay on her
toilet table-and what this table was
don't know as you ever could guess-a
rough dry-g goods box, with her own little
faded green shawl on it for spread. She
took up the broken bit of glass and
looked into it long and earnestly.
g feel real DID, she said to herself,
"but amt seventeen yet-rot till next
week." and here came another sigh for
the glad birthdays past and gone. 1t was
not very old-looking face that met hers
in the mirror. Two rosy cheeks, two
brown eyes, a slightly-turned-up nose, a
ripe, red mouth which held pretty, white
teeth, and a mass of golden-brown hair,
which was the envy of Arabella, who had
to rely upon fashionable milliner for
that which nature had denied her, or,
rather, that which she had lost by crimp-
ing and frizzing and pinching with hot
irons.
But Lettie was in no mood today to
look on the bright side of anything, so the
rosy, youthful face was not rosy or youth
full or pretty to her. She saw only what
she felt. But she had love of neatness,
and so she mechanically smoothed OFT the
long, silken tresses and put on her white