Sharp County record., 1877-11-16

for poor Fifine. She is sick with fever,
and the mosquitoes are dreadful down
there in the wood. Mamma says l may
have this netting if / cap make it do; it
is 50 badly torn, +" said poor Betty, "and
so perplexing But l could not sleep,
Mrs. Benson, - she added, with an air of
gentle dignity, in which there was also a
slight sniff of reproach-"I / could not
sleep in my own bed of luxury, and
know that poor Fifine.was languiShing
there, prey to fever and mosquitoes. y
If the widow had thereupon offered
to drive to town with Miss Betty and
buy for Fifne a brand-new canopy, Miss
Betty would have put the old netting
aside; but she was at heart very glad
that the fine lady offered no such sacri-
flee to charity, for she could not bear to
find her altogether perfect.
"Ten chances to one, my DEAR" said
the widow, "you'll have your labor for
your pains. These poor creatures are
very superstitious and queer, and don't
know what is best for them. I've no
doubt, in any case, she has pretended to
be sick to get rid of some clear-starch-
ing for your good mother. Fifne would
rather work at home, so that she can be
with that lubberly lout of husband of
hers. She is the finest and best of
laundresses, and sorry should be to
have any thing befall her; but you must
not believe all that these willy French
women say"
The color mantled high in Miss Betty's
cheeks as these ISLANDERS fell upon her
ears, and she steadily refused to put her
work aside.
/" You are a little goose" said the
widow at length. " Must l tell you,
then, that we shall have some charming
company with us? We are to stop at
my house for Mr.. Roake-there, now,
Miss Betty, run away and dress.n
The color fled from Miss Betty's
cheeks, and the needle trembled in her
fingers. AS she raised her blue eyes to
the fine black ones of the widow, tear
or two trembled within them.
"You are welcome to your charming
company" she said. Il will 90 on
with my work for poor Fifne."
The widow laughed heartily and went
away, leaving poor Miss Betty to strug-
gle on with her troublesome task, which
was more and more irksOme now that
she knew how some other people were
spending their afternoon. AS rent after
rent yawned before her, and her weary
little fingers grew less and less nimble,
more than once the question arose with
in her whether it was better to 60 on.
Since nobody cared for her, why should
she care for any bodyP But her gener-
Gus heart conquered all these bitter
temptations, and nearly at night-fall
she ran up stairs to slip on the pretty
muslin robe, all smoothed and crimped
by the art and industry of poor Fifne.
The netting was not heavy burden,
but she carried also kettle of ice with
her and a P5t of jelly. She took the
road through the woods, and though it
was growing darker, and her heart beat
rapidly, and she could not brush the
mosquitoes away because her hands were
so full, yet she was upheld by the thought
Of rescuing poor Fifne. Since she could
not save her from the stings of SANDER
and reproach, she should at least be free
from those of mosquitoes.
At last through thetrees she could see
the chicken-coops of Fifine, and soon she
was at the poor woman's bedside. The
heart of Miss Betty was fired with indig-
nation when she remembered the cruel
words of the widow. Fifne lay upon a
rude bed in the corner. Always thin
and brown, she might now have been
taken for an exhumed Queen of Egypt,
and Miss Betty could not imagine how
all these mosquitoes could find it in
their anatomy to prey upon poor Fifine
when the fat and unctuous substance of
George was temptingly at hand upon
the bench outside, where he was enjoy
ing his evening pipe. Miss Betty stoop-
ed over the sick woman, and said, {" |
have brought you some ice, dear Fifine."
"Ah, my angel! my angel of light"
said Fifne, "thou hast of hearts the
most merciful; but, alas! 1 can not
have the ice. l am too cold already, my
little one. There is cold hand at my
heart. No, no; l can not have the
ice"
Every well, Fiine,n said Miss Betty,
putting down the kettle which had been
such nuisance to her, "you shall
not be troubled with the ice; but here is
some jelly
"Ah, my blessed one!" cried Fifne,
ssthou art like saint from Heaven; but
talk not to me of jelly. They have given
me of jelly many years ago, after some
bitter medicine, and / have since that
time no hunger for jelly. All, my rose
of the wildwood! it makes me sick to
think of it,"
"Then do not think of it, Fifine,"
said Miss Betty, putting aside the jar,
that had grown heavier and heavier at
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