The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1876-05-31

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nate multitude Of dimpled faces. fiutter..
ing ribbons, flowers and nodding hats,
with silver voices singing ever joyous
ly Of his 'golden sands'' and '.pearly
Streets" and ''great white thrones. :
Perhaps it was lngra Peterson's rich
contralto voice which so attracted this
blonde musician. With his pathetic
tenor and that contralto, what ravish-
ing duets might be sung at the great
Sabbath school conventions and how
marvelously she would clear-starch his
ruffled shirt-bosoms.
One fateful Saturday afternoon, I.
Ernest Keene proceeded to Miss Peter
SON s residence. He found the little
room over-howing with shining fresh.
ly irOned linen, as usual on that day.
petiZing smell of delicate beef-tea.
Ingra was radiant, with her golden
hair, pink cheeks, and immense white
apron, as she sat theoretically knitting.
The tea kettle sent forth fine sweet
monotone, the canaries loudly chirped.
Miss Peterson little cabinet organ
stood invitingly open, and they sang.
she meanwhile knitting without
pause, as |. Ernest Keene played his
tenderest accompaniment. Nobody
ever beguiled Ingra Peterson into senti-
mental conversation. What one said
to her must be said bluntly. And so,
I. Ernest Keene at last turned from
the keys, and laying his bloodless
hands upon Miss Peterson's warm
ones, said in his softest tones:
eff could only always have you at
my side, with your glorious voice, till
We reach the shining shore and walk
the golden sands with palms in our
hands life would then be filled
with rosiest bliss! Say yes, dearest
Ingra, and be my wife,
Miss Peterson simply shook the cold
hands from her clicking needles, laid
the knitting down, and walked to the
ample white-draped lounge which stood
in a Swallowed recess.
''We've been singing too loud," she
said, as she knelt and carefully lifted
the c0unter-pane. II wish you would
come here moment, I always have to
call in Mrs. Virgins, but she's very
busy on Saturday., and YOU can held
me to-day. Did you hear the music.
Andy = the question being addressed
to somebody lying on the lounge.
Whatever the answer was, no one
heard it but Ingra, who said heartily,
Il am so glad. We are going to change
your bed now, for Sunday, and then
you shall have 4 sip Of beef-tea.'
|. Ernest Keene looked on in mute
wonder. Here was a child of ten
years, with face neck and body hor-
ribly burned and bruised, helpless from
injuries received at the falling and
burning of a factory. His own home
being one of squalid wretchedness,
Miss Peterson had taken him in. hir-
ing nurse for him every day during
her absence. Even the boys hands
were bandaged and helpless.
'Now,'' said Ingra, 'swill you please
put your hands under this top mat
tress which is next to Andy and lift
him with it while 1 shake and turn
the bottom one? And then we will
change the bandages. Oh, you are
getting on finely, Andy
But I. Ernest Keene turned pale.
''Really am not accustomed" he be-
gan, family, land think couldn't.
Ill call some one else if you desire it.
Really this looks unnecessary, and is
there. not an hospital? -
'I'll lift Andy,' interrupted Miss
Peterson, slipping her strong arms
under the mattress snow, Mr.. Keene,
shake up that mattress, and do it thor
Oughly.'
Ii lngra Peterson had been a born
queen, despot, and he her slave, I.
Ernest Keene could not have obeyed
with more alacrity than he did at
he sound OF those decided tones. He
| shook the mattress thoroughly. Per-
| haps he would rather have shaken In
gra Peterson. But he did not stay to
help change the bandages for the lit
tie sufferer, neither did he refer any
more in Ingra's presence to palm
branches.
1t seemed that Andy was born to
| witness all Miss Peterson's wooings.
For on the day that he first sat, I'D, in
a lovely double-gown which she had
made for him, with cunning little
dinner and a sweet-scented boouet on
the standEat his elbow, in walked DR..
Reuben Jay, with another boquet.
| s'Here are some of my garden posies,
Ingra,' said he, in a voice which was
like rolling thunder compared to the
entreating tenor of /. Ernest Keene.
81 expect to take a premium on my
balsams and begonias this year Now
did you ever see a balsam which would
beat that for d0ubleness
81 don't like double balsams,'' de-
clared Ingra, t'nor any other sort of
double flowers. There's something
elegant about the natural balsam, but