Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-04-28
THAT HOMEMADE ICE CREAM
From Harper's Weekly.

From Harper's Weekly.
"Good gracious, mar! said Angel
lea Crane to her ovcrworked paren
at the nightfall of memorable day
"A day that marked the beginning
of the young Squlres Christmas holi
days at home, and every minute of i
crammed and crowded with labor
the entertainment in his honor at tho
Crane homestead-"good gracious
you amt going to have homemade
cream, surely?" The young lady's
nose, which was exceedingly re
trousse already, was perched high il
the air with disdain. If there is
any thing I can't abide," she said
"it's frozen corn starch; and that's
oil you can make out of homemade
cream, any way you fix 1t! %
"Hold your tongue, Angy," sale
her mother; "you are the most on
feelin' creetur l ever see. You'd hcN
me harness up the team and drive
away to town and pay out 4 mint OF
money, when | kin jest as well hev il
for nothin'. Haven't we got a bran
new freezer, and cream and eggs and
ice, without its costin' a cent? What
more do you want?"
GA prime new freezer!" scornfully
echoed Angy. "You'll want half {
dozen of them!"
"Well, can't borrow them?" sait
her prudent mother.
"And who's going to hang over
them?" said the young lady, whose
stay at boarding school had not oblit
Grated the home dialect. "They
need to be turned and turned, anc
everybody's worn out. It's time te
dress now, and you want little cool
in off yourself. You're as red as
beet"
"Ill stay if I can be of any ser
vice." said voice in the doorway.
"Why, Sally" said Mrs. Crane
"you'll want to run home and dress
won't your"
"Oh, I'd rather not" said the voice
this time trembling little. 81 don't
feel fit for any fun, Mrs. Crane. II
don't seem to me | ever will again.
"I s'pose not, deary," said the
farmers wife with an expression OF
pity mingled with relief. at will
be dreadful conyenient to have you
stay, Sally, if you kin. There's 6
power to do yet, and only one pair o
hands to do it. I s'pose you wouldn't
care to go up into the parlor; but the
treezers'll be in the cellar, and the
heater keeps it nice and warm down
there; and while you're a-makin' the
cream you kin listen to the music
and hear the noise and all. It'll
come kind o nice to you that way
won'tit, Sally"
"Good life, mari" laughed the
vivacious daughter; els that what
you call nice? 1t reminds me Of the
hungry boy who went to smell the
steam at the pastry cooks"
"You don't know nothin' about
the way Sally feels" said Mrs. Crane
"nor l don't think you could if you
tried. I believe you'd dance and
whistle about before the grass took
root over your pappy's grave; but
Sally loved hern, poor child, and she
can't help thinkin' of the poor school
master lynn out there in the snow
when here he was, only bit ago, as
chick and smart as anybody. It's nc
knowing whose turn it'll be next"
Whether the good woman had any
reason of her own for thus dwelling
upon a melancholy subject, it decided
poor little Sally aversion for the mer
ry-making, and put to flight the gay
Angelica, who was IN no humor fol
red eyes and noses, when the young
squire would shortly come, and it be
hooved these features to be at Their
best.
But Sally tell to sobbing outright
not giving a thought to the deleter-
ious effect of tears upon her beauty.
although once upon time it was
bright and bonny enough to ensnare
the young squire himself. Long ago
when he drew her to school on his
handsome sled, he made many a
stumble over the ice in looking back
upon the sweet face under its scarlet
hood, the little cheeks all aglow, and
the yellow curls wantoning about
with the brisk wintry air. Sally's
was always the biggest apple from
the finest tree in the orchard; the
most luscious grapes from the grapery
found their way to Sally's desk; and
in the intervals of his possessing a
penknlfe young Master Randall left
no blunt pencil in Sally's satchel.
When it became necessary that he
should be sent to place of instruc.
ton befitting his station in life, and
the fiat had gone forth that the daal
old days at the village school should
become part and parcel of the past;
when he must bid good-by to his
romps in the new mown hay, his
races with the young colts in the ten
acre field, his bcrrying and picnicing.
his coasting down the glorious old
hill; when he must part with his dog
Lancer and his gun and his pony
above all, with Sally, it was heart
rending time. Whatever grown-up
folks may think of these childish
griefs, they are as tough to bear as
the heavier ones that come later, and
they leave great ugly sears that are
sometimes only halt-healed over.
When Will Randall cut Sally's
name and his own deep into the bark
of the old walnut tree at the foot of
the lane, it seemed to him that the
knife went into his heart with every
turn of the letters in her precious
name. Tears rolled out of his eyes
in spite of his manly endeavor to
choke it down; as for Sally, she had
given way long ago, and, with her
sun-bonnet tight over her face, was
watering the gray old moss at the
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