The new dominion. [volume] (Morgantown, W. Va.) 1876-1904, 1877-09-08
OUR STORY TELLER.
A QUEER COURTsHIP.
LHarper's Weckly.1

You know how it is in a letter (began
the little shop-keeper, rubbing her thin
hands together helplessly). / was writ
ing to brother Joshua away down East,
hundred of miles from here, and hap
pened to tell him, among other things
that the widow lady that helped teach
school here, and boarded with me, was
going away. | didn't say word one
way or the other about Mr. Steele, for
what did it matter to them whether he
was a tyrant or not? | only wanted to
tell them I'd been at good deal of ex-
pense in fitting up the room, and | didn't
mind her board money so much as | did
to have the chamber idle again, and no
body about the house but myself, though
she was poor company at the best, being
sickly in constitution and low in spirits
the most of the time, and after while
nearly driven crazy by the continual
badgering and pickering of Mr.. Steele
She used to come home at night that
worn out, what with the wickedness of
the children and the eternal nagging of
the school-master, that Eve seen her put
her head down on the table and cry fit
to break her heart. She said she couldn't
please him, do what she might, and it
was running her nerves to see him beat
the boys in the way that he did. She
was sure he'd break some of their bones.
tried to cheer her the best | could. tell
ing her that boys bones were tough, and
the little rascals deserved to be paid up
Tor some of their deviltry. After an
an hour or two she'd come around again
and be comfortable. but, La mel what
was the use? The next day, perhaps,
she'd be worse than ever, and the Great
ure's health began to fail so, | was glad
when she gave up and went away. She
was very down-hearted. Sam Riley, the
stage-driver, said, all the way down to the
train, and he gave it as his opinion that
Mr.. Steele was no better than a black
hearted tyrant.
Sam is such a good-natured fellow that
1t quite wore upon his mind, and he
stopped bit with me on his way to the
evening train to talk it over. | wanted
him to get some little things for me at
Pikeville, and while l was making out
the memorandum, sam told me how he
pitied whatever poor body was to take
that poor creatures place.
You can just fancy how felt when
Sam drove up to the door that night. and
l went out to get the package, to see
brother Joshua's daughter Jemima on
the seat with Sam, chatting and laugh
ing away as merry as cricket. | was
powerful glad to see the child, but
dreadfully mortified to find her
tucked in there with the driver. | told
Sam pretty sharply that he ought to
know better, for there was plenty of
room inside, and / didn't know what
the boarders over the way would think
of it.
She was bound to ride outside said
Sam; " and willful woman must have
her way"
Why, it's all the fashion up our
way" said Mime. "The summer
boarders swarm all over the tops of the
coaches like SO many lovely bees; but if
1T hurts any body's feeling, Pm sorry. A
school-marm must mind her p's and as.
!" A school-marm@' / said, wondering
what the child meant. Then she told me
she'd come out to take that poor little
womans place; that she'd written to
Mr.. Steele as soon as my letter was read
at home, for she couldn't get along at
the school there.
!" 1t would take saint to put up with
their airs and Interference, and YOU
know | like to have my own way," said
my niece Jemima.
Yes," | said, for had known Mines
temper from child. Any body could
see from her hair how fiery she was; but
the dear child was just as the good Lord
had seen fit to make her, and /, for one,
never hold red-haired people accountable
for freaks of temper.
Only you can see how ridiculous il
seemed to me for her to teach under Mr..
Steele. "Out of the frying-pan into the
fire, Mime" | said. "The school-mas-
ter has it all his own way here. and he's
little better than brute. I've seen
under my own eyes woman's heart al
most broken with him." Then | went
on to tell how he'd tormented that poor
widow woman into giving up the place,
and how I'd seen her worry and fret till
the skin fairly dropped of her bones.
!" Pooh! poohp' said my niece; 'sthe
skin won't drop off my bones, aunty.o
And | couldn't help thinking what a
pity it would be if it did, for whittier and
finer and -wholesomer skin I never did
see. 1t was the kind that often comes
with red hair, and lovelier color never
was in blossom than bloomed in Mines
cheek when she cried out:
Pve got to fight it out somewhere.
aunty; let him mind his own business.
and I'll mind mine!"
My heart fairly warmed to the girl AS
she sat opposite me at the table, crunch
ing slice after slice of toast between her
white teeth, and devourinp the dainties
one by one. The little widow had been
50 finicky, and had such poor appetite
myself, that things came and went upon
the table, and were warmed up and
fused over till body got tired of
seeing them. Then she was nv own
flesh and blood, and had the Schoon-
maker nose, little high with Mime. and
freckled over the bridge bit, but she
was bonny, blithe, fresh-lookins Great
ure, SO different from the wretched little
woman who had just gone away.
] couldn't bear the thoughts of her
spirits and health being broken by that
dreadful Mr.. Steele.
I'll tell you, Mime" / said as she
dried the dishes for me, "what we'll do.
You shall stay home with me and help
about the shop; there's bonnets now and
then to trim, and klots ofslittle knick-
knacks II worsted-work to be made"