Fayette County herald. [volume] (Washington [Washington Court House], Fayette County, O. [Ohio]) 1860-1???, 1876-04-20
THAT HOmE-MADE ICE-CREAm.

/
"Good gracious, mar!'' said Angelica
Crane to her overworked parent, at night
fall Of memorable day-a day that mark
| ed the beginning of the young squire's
Christmas holiday at home, and every
| minute of it crammed and crowded with
| labor for the entertainment in his honor
at the Crane homestead-Hgo gracious
you amt going to have homemade cream,
surely?" The young lady's nose, which
was exceedingly retrousSe already. was
perched high in the air with disdain. ''It's
frozen corn starch; and that's all YOU can
make OF homemade cream, any way you
| fix itl''
'sHold your tongue, Angy,'' said her
mother; s'yOu're the most Onfeelin' cree
tur L ever see. You'd hev me harness up
the team and drive away to town and pay
out mint of money, when 1 kin lest as
well hev it for nothin' Hain't we got a
prime new freezer, and cream and eggs
and ice, without its costin' a cent? What
more do you want?''
GA prime new freezer - scornfuIIy ech-
oed 1AA,ngy.= 4, ssYoH'H want half a dozen of
"Well, can't [ borry 'em 90 said her
prudent parent.
"And who's going to hang over 'em ?''
said the young lady, whose stay at board
ing-school had not obliterated the home
dialect. '"They need to be turned and
1 NNAA NJ, Sb@Ao OOOy > hOIn OUGs L s
| nearly time to dress now, and you want a
little coolin' off yourself. YOU'RE as red
as beet.''
''I'll stay if I can be of any service. y
said voice in the doorway.
'Why, Sally, - said Mrs. Crane, EEyou'II
want to run home and dress, Won't you ?''
| "Oh, I'd rather nOt,'' said the voice,
this time trembling a little. CT don't fee
fit for any fun, Mrs. Crane. It don't seem
to me l ever will again.
81 s'pose not, deary," said the farmers
wife, with an expression of pity mingled
with relief. E"sIt'll be dreadful convenien
to hev you stay, Sally, if you kin. There
a power to do yet, and only one pair o
hands to Go 1t. L s'pose you Wouldn'
keer to go up i'll the parlor; but the freeZ
ers'll be in the cellar, and the heater keep
1t nice and warm down there; and Will
you're a-makin' the cream, you kin lister
to the music, and hear the noise and all
1t II come kind o. nice to you that way
won't it Sally? ?''
: "GOod life, mar - laughed the viyaciou
# daughter; ''is that what you call nice I
reminds me of the little hungry boy tha
went to smell the steam at the pastry
cooks y
"You don't know nothin' about the wa
Sally feels" said Mrs. Crane, ''nor don
think you could if you tried. [ believ
you'd dance and whistle about before tn
grass took root over your pappy's grave
put sally loved hern, poor child, and sh
can't help thinkin' of the poor schoo
master lynn out there in the snow, whe
here he was, only bit ago, as chick an
> smart as any body. It's no knowin' who's
turn it IL be next.''
Whether the good woman had any res
son of her own for thus dwelling upon
melancholy subject, it decided poor litt1
Sa1ly's aversion for the merrY-maIxin.
n and put to fight the gay Angelica, WI
was in no humor for red eyes and nose
when the young squire would shortl
come, and it behooved these features to l
IN at their best.
in But Sally fell to sobbing outright, n
Il giving thought to the deleterioGs effe
of tears upon her beauty, although on
y upon time it was bright and bonT
enough to ensnare the young squire hin
self. Long ago, when he drew her
school on his handsome sled, he ma
= many stumble over the ice in 1ookil
back upon the sweet face under its scarl
hood, the little cheeks all aglow, and t
yellow curls wantoning about with f
brisk winter air. Sally's was always tt
biggest apple from the finest tree in Il
orchard; the most luscious grapes frC
the grapery found their way to Sally
desk; and in the intervals of his posse
sing a penknife, young Master Randt
left no blunt pencil in Sally's satchel.
IS When it became necessary that he shoU
be sent to place of instruction befitti1
his station in life, and the fiat had go
forth that the dear old days at the villa
81 school should become part and parcel
the past; when he must bid good by
his romps in the new mown hay his rat
with the young colts in the ten-acre fiel
- his berrying and picnicking, his coasti
II down the glorious old hill when he nj
part with his dog Lancer and his gun a
his pony-above all, with Sally-it wa
heart-rending time. Whatever grown
folks may think of these childish grie
OV they are as tough to bear as the heav
+bo ones that come later, and they leave gr
~, ugly scars that are sometimes only h:
ing healed over.
When VIII Randall cut Sally's ma
I1tv. and his own deep into the bark of the
walnut tree at the foot of the lane
seemed to him that the knife went i
his heart with every turn of the letters
lty. her precious name. Tears rolled out
nth his eyes in spite of his manly endeaVol
On choke them down; as for Sally, she I
given away long ago, and, with her
t. bonnet tight down over her face,
watering the gray old moss at the foot
the tree with floods of childish woe. i
AT last it was done. There were the
itials linked together deep in the rug
bark; the crimson light from the west
stte sky shone full upon each and all. v
sat put his knife back in his pocket wit
dHl rEn click of determination, gulped back
- tears at once and for the last time,
tih; taking Sally from the ground, he smoc
arg arg ed back her yellow locks, coaxing her |
en- quiet with the solemn promise of his
for atty henceforth and forever to the
between them. He declared that
S. names linked there upon the tree sho