The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1877-09-05
THE SCARLET BUD.
BY ETTIE ROGERS.

1.-THE figure and big, dreaming eyes.
Her homely garments were tucked up
about supple waist, disclosing pair
of dainty feet, bare and damp, aud
white as snow fakes. She drove the
lazy, docile creatures into the inclo-
sure in front of the farm house door,
and put up the rough wooden bars
with her own delicate, tanned hands.
Then she leaned against the upper
rail and turned her tintless, exquisite
face toward the cloudless, yellow west,
where the young moon hung like a
crescent of pearl guarded by single
star like a speck of white flame.
II am so weary of this sort of life,"
she sighed, while yet she was enchant-
ed with the serene hush and dusky
splendor of the early twilight scene.
A nightingale awoke IN the rich will
low shadows beside the chatterng
brook, aud filed the mellow air with
delicious burst of song.
AS she listened, harsh, hard voice
aroused her from her mumentary &C.
stacy of rest to the grosser duties of
the time.
"Why are you standing there, Ba.
bette q? Make haste with the milking,
will you ? What an indoleut child you
are, to be sure"
The inquiry, command, and reprov
al, all framed in one shrewish, unlov-
ing speech, came from a middle-aged
woman who stood on the threshold of
the humble parlor door-a woman rob
ed in tawdry silk, but in appearance
quite as coarse and rubicund, and un-
poetical as the scentless peonies that
glowed in row of red clusters be-
tween her and the shrinking object of
her will.
II don't know what l shall do with
that lazy girl, Mr.. Kenwick," she said,
apologetically to her one summer
boarder, who looked out quite uncon-
sciously from II window arch of vines,
as he heard the rasping tones my
poor, deceased husband-Mr. Faxon
educated her for a teacher. l got
her school early in May, aud two
weeks afterward the trustees asked her
to resign, which she did, of course,
liking her ease too we'll for her good.
| am sorry to say it of my own--but
for a smart girl she is the most fool.
ish fool ever saw. Why, sir, she can
read French and German, Latin and
Greek, and write compositions on sub,
iects that no one can understand, but
they make the tears and laughter
come though, aDd yet she couldn't t
manage a little school house full of
boys and girls. l am ashamed of her. "
"How old is she?" inquired Roy
Kenwick.
"Why, she is nearly seventeen =
quite old enough to teach the al pha-
bet, 1 think"
"Quite old enough, certainly, if she
is gifted with the special talent neces,
sary for success in that profession, u
answered the gentleman, noting 'criti'
cally the impatient curves of the sen
sitive lips the nervous restlessness of
the lovely figure, and the slender
pointed finger; "but l opine she
would make better artist than teach
er. And, by the way, where did you
4 OOldln tuiS lllblS SClH
He pointed to a rough bracket thai
held tiny hand, carved Of some pale
wood, and clasping an exquisitely
wrought bud of scarlet coral.
= "Oh, that is Babette's work." repli
ed the woman, carelessly, cor her play
rather, for ever since the child coulC
use her hands, she has delighted il
nothing but bits of wood, and chalk
and stone-anything she can cut int,
figures with a pen-knife."
"Yeu should have made her a sculp
tor instead of a teacher" observed he
auditor, dryly.
"a sculptor l thought sculpto
8 was man." was the response.
"Nearly always, admit; but if
!. woman has been given the genius usu
ally supposed to belong to man b,
right, why should she not be allowe,
to profit by itH"
3 "Why u iterated Mrs. Faxon, wit
Q an air of wiseacre "because she is
Il woman and has no business to med
n die with such matters"
"But surely that is not a woman
work, " said Roy Keuwick, with an eS
6 pOstulatOry gesture toward the iuclos
s, ure through which Babette was going
d laden with milking pals, a pictures
II que target for the belIigerent horns {
(, halfdozeu vicious yearlings. You
IS Babette is too girlish and dainty fc
- the toll that belongs to the farr
o. hands. Give her a chance in the pa
. lor with your boarders. Put her g
3 the piano, anything better than mel
- chore boys work"
There is no profit in the piano,
answered the woman. with a dubiot