Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1878-11-28

41iOutL1 VIII OlIl pies uONSIlIS shy IL
its neighborhood. Gust look at US,
Polly, you and me, two girls of nine
teen and seventeen, that ought to be
enjoying ourselves and having a good
time, and here we are, washing and
scrubbing, and turning wretched rags
of dyed silk, and cleaning faded ribbons,
and counting every pound of rice and
every potato! Even these wild grapes,
Polly, that you and l gathered down
by the edge of the swamp, we shouldn't
venture on the extravaganza of pre-
serving them, if Mrs. Deacon Blodgett
hadn't offered to supply the sugar on
halves. 'tOh, | do SO hate this life!
Even Brisket the butcher thinks he can
insult us with impunity.'
EYES," said Polly, thoughtfullY, eve
mustn't order any more meat at pres
ent."
"But we mnst live" flashed out
Lisbeth.
"There Is salt mackerel," said Polly,
"and eggs, and vegetable soups, and
Mrs. Pullett always sends us nice cut
of pork and some fresh sausages when
they kill their pig. Oh, we shall get
along somehow, Lisbeth; anything is
better tran debt"
Lisbeth looked up with sparkling
eyes.
"Polly," cried she, why don't they in
crease papa's salary? Six hundred dol
lars year is a shameful pittance for
such man as he is"
Polly shook her head over the grapes.
Papa isn't a young man any longer,
Lisbeth," said she "and he isn't as
modern In his ideas as Mr.. Crocus."
''But he is such a learned man." cried
out Lisbeth, shaking the yellow name
out of her eyes. And his sermons
oh, Polly, they make me cry, they are
SO deep and so solemn, and 60 down
into ones heart so! Six hundred dol
lars a year, Polly, for such work and
study as that"
"There is no doubt said Polly, soberly,
'but that clergymen are, as a general
rule, very much underpaid in this
country"
Il shall never marry a clergyman"
cried Lisbeth, with energy. "No, Polly,
never! I'd marry a dust-man first! For
dust-men get their pay, and clergymen
don't and"
Lisbeth stopped short, scarlet and
confused, in this rhapsody of hers, for,
CHANGING to glance up, she beheld in
the doorway q tall and solemn-faced
young man, with an umbrella in one
hand and travelling sachel in the
other.
owe don't want anything, please"
said she, Jumping at once to the con-
clusion that she beheld a book agent,
or q veIder of patent polish, or some
itinerant tradesman.
81 beg your pardon" said the gentle
man, apparently as much embarrassed
as was she herself; 81 must have mis-
taken the house. [ was looking for
the Reverend Francis Fennp'
"My good gracious! another mission
ary," murmured Lisbeth, soto UOce as
Polly stepped graciously forward, say
ing.
"You are not mistaken, sir; this is
the house. Please to walk into the
parlor, and will speak to papa"
The best room of the parsonage was
cool and dark, with green paper shades
drawn down, a jar of fragrant dried
rose leaves IN the fireplace, and a
home-braided rug Of party-colored cloth
laid carefully down before the sofa to
hide the darned spot in the carpet.
''Not that chair, please" said Polly,
coloIing up to the roots of her hair, as
the unwary stranger advanced toward
a certain corner; "the leg is broken, and
we've glued it, and I m afraid it's not
quite safe. This one is better"
While Lisbeth, hiding her face in her
apron, nurmurs to herself, "Is there
no end to our humiliations? Is our
world altUdgs to be full Of glue and
patches, and mends and makeshifts p"
. "Lisbeth," said Polly, returning, ego
and call papa"
TITS another missionary, Pm sure"
said Lisbeth, unwittingly pulling down
the sleeves of her brown calico dress.
"And l know he'll stay to dinner, and
he's got a hungry glare in his eyes, and
there's nothing for dinner but barley
soup and a cabbage. Oh dearw with
grimace which made Polly laugh in
spite of herself. 81 wish the race of
missionaries were extinct"
The country parson looked mildly up
from the second paragraph Of his
Thirdly" as Lisbeth came in, smelling
of wild grapes, with an aureole of vel
low hair about her face.
Papa" said she, there's a gentle
man in the parlor to see you, with
carpet-bag and white neck-tie''
''Ah!" said the clergyman. ga Wis
itor, [ suppose. He is most welcome,
But am just at present deep in the
thread of a complicated polemic theory.
Make my compliments to the gentle
man, Listeth, and beg his indulgence
for quarter of an hour Or So" And
the parson dipped his pen resolutely
into the time-stained. wooden standish,
as if he was determined to settle the
subject at once.
"But, papaw Lisbeth had caught at
his coat cuff to reclaim him temporarily
from the abysses of theological argu-
ment. r.#-.
eyes, my dears," looking absently at
her.
"Do you think he'll stay to din
ner?"
81 shall invite him, my dear, most as
surGdly."
Lisbeth's countenance fell. "But,
papa," faltered she, there's nothing
but barley soup"
1--WE will serve it with the good old
fashioned sauce of welcome. my DEAR"
said the Reverend Mr.. Tenn, with a
grave, sweet smile, "and [ doubt not it
will suffice"
Lisbeth hounced out of the room
with heightened color and quick, inn
patient breath. "Papa's an angel" SAID
She to herself, "but angels never were
adapted to get along in this work-a-day
world She put her golden head into
the narlor door for am instant ssPapa