The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1876-01-21
SELECT STORY.
SEEING BETTER DAYS.

cry.
The sturdy gossips of the seaside VIII
lage, who went about with their skirts
tucked up and their bare brown arms
ready and able for any work, looked
askance at the widow Minion, with her
pitiful meaeerness of aspect, her Kicker
ing black eye, and her trailing old gown.
They nudged each other and said, Bet
ter days-Lord save us ~
But the widow did not trouble the
neighbors much, nor they her. A body
who couldn't do heartsome hands stir
ring was best left alone TO her brooding,
and the widows smoky little cabin, SOL
itarily apart on the sea-shore, was left
pretty much to herself and her boy
Tom.
Tom was a sturdy, brown-faced lad,
who picked up living by doing odd
Jobs for the bOatmen, and now and then
taking a day for fishing. Tom had
probably never seen better days. The
widow shook her head over him-Ro
stupidity content, poor Tom! 40 beaming
and good -natured over beggarliness and
hopelessness. A tall, we'll grown fel-
low, with bare feet, torn straw hat, and
a red shirt, Tom took the world easily,
looking with revereHt eyes on his moth
er's by-gone gentility, but by no means
seeming to covet it for himself.
The widow deemed it due to her past
respectability to be seen at church Of a
Sunday evening, and you could see the
two walking at twilight along the sands
together, she with her clean POCKET
handkerchief folded over her old hymn
book and certain doubtful hesitancy of
gait, as If heaven itself might be look
ing down critically on her shabby black
gown and rusty bonnet. As for Tom,
patient Tom, he went plodding slowly
after her, with his smiling face, whist
ling to himself as he went. Always pa
tient, always piodding, poor Tom! Pa
tientIy falling asleep during the sermon.
and patiently listening, open-mouthed.
to the closing hymn, his careless, bright
face, contrasting so oddly with his moth
er's querulous and ,ear-wOrn visage,
won for him the soubriquet of Widow
Minton's rainbow.
The minister Of the parish, mistaken
soul, deemed it incumbent TO make
call on the widow; and, on charity bent,
:. :..:I ,.-w..:lr ofarad 20 opnpIov hor
services in his household for a season.
He deemed it his duty to rouse the old
woman to activity.
He did rouse her; and it is averred
that he never found time to call at the
cabin again. Did he take her for a
common household drudges, or a low
born field hand? She thanked God she
had too much spirit left yet to put her
relf under anybody's feet. He hadn't
far to go to find scores of drudges and
diggera, but he might go further before
he knew a lady when he saw her.
It might have been the afternoon after
the good mans visit that the widow Sat
idly brooding at her cabin door. Her
eyes had a wandering far-away look,
and her face was keener and thinner than
ever. Beyond the bluff which sheltered
her cabin, stretched far line of sea-
coast, the white ssnd cleaning silvery
in the sun. Far of group of bathers,
in bright dresses, frolicked between shore
and water. They came from the great
hotel down beyond; she could almost
catch the sound of their voices as she sat
slowly rocking in her doorway. 1t was
a quiet afternoon; the air was soft and
soothing, and the widows heart so full
of bitterness, felt itself sweeten and soft
en- in the stiffness. This part Of the
shore, sheltered by its overhanging rock.
was seldom disturbed by intruders, but
presently the watchers eye caught sight
of a young girl splashing and frolicking
in the water just beyond the rocks. 1t
was pretty sight. the rounded arms the
curving shoulders, the swaying, floating
figure. And perhaps the old woman re-
called with sigh the time when she
was young and blithe. too. and had as
CHEEKY a voice as that with which the
fair swimmer hailed her companions in
the distance.
Gazing absently on the smiling scene.
a reverie fell upon her, and when she
looked again, the young water-nymph
had disappeared. She had probably
swum ashore behind the rocks. The
widow turned away, hugged her thin
shawl over her shoulders, and thought
the sea-wind was chilly. Hark! What
was that? Surely she heard cry. No
merry shout or ringing laugh this; it
might be the cry of wild bird on its
way to its mate.
She couldn't have got beyond her
depth, that young creature, surely! But,
lal what if she had? Dying young, a
body gets quit of deal of trouble.
And-Yes, surely, that was a scream.
The widow looked sharply out. Would
Tom never come? The tide was rising,
and-and something certainly was the
matter. She called-she beckoned fran
tically to the bathers beyond-they
seemed both blind and deaf.
No one, not one soul, at hand, and
that young thing in peril of life! A
minute she stood still, listening-a fee
bic old woman with a haggard, scared
face, to whom no one would have dream
ed of looking for help.
81 can't stand this" she said, Seems
] might pull out that old scow myself.
Toni" abe screamed, with a yell that
held the concentrated energy of ten
years. But no Tom appeared. And it
was the widow herself, with those with
cred old hands that disdained the min
ister's kitchen work-it was the widow
herself, who straining, tugging, and
with her gray hair futtering in the
wind, unloosed the old dug-out from its
moorings, and trembling, unskilful,
armed with rude paddle, went spinning
out dizziIY over the water. II leaked,
4 - ~ n