The Findlay Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Hancock County, Ohio) 1870-1881, 1878-01-25
NO.38.

He has nice blue eyes, and the pleas
antestv voice and way with him you ever
knew lucidly replied Bertha.
is he tall or short, fat or thin, child?'
asked Uncle Stephen, thinking her des
cription lame one. a red face or a
pale one?7
He is rather tall and quite thin. un
Gle and his face is pale"
Then l think it is the new rector
His names Brook
But why do you think it, uncle?"
Yesterday morning, as | was standing
at the fence in the medow, talking to
Clutterbuck on the other side of it, a
clergyman passed down the ROAD
youngish man, few years past thirty,
That's Mr. Brook, the new parson at
Little Crossdale, says Clutterbuck to me
and We watched him out of sight. He
was like what you describe him to be
Bertha
"He said he would like 10 call here,
Uncle Stephen. l hope Aunt Pen won't
be put out if he does
There is no answering for that," said
Uncle Stephen.
For once the Fates were propitious.
Aunt Pen was in one of her brightest
humors when Mr. Brook called, and she
received him graciously. He had lost
no time, for it was only the afternoon
following the rehearsal. Mrs Robarts
was really glad to meet one, who had liv-
ed for two years with her sister, and she
talked so much that nobody else could
get IN a word. She gave him little of
her ideas on the subject of oratorios, as
connected with the stage and Astleys
Circus, and especially as to Bertha's
singing in them in public; and Mr. Brook
gave his. 1t was holy work in his opin
ion, he said; and those who took part in
it and those who listened were brought,
for the time, nearer to God. Uncle
Stephens eyes glistened; and Aunt Pen
began to think that, after all, she would
let the child sing the duet just for this
once.
Mr. Brook was treated to some of Aunt
Pens cowslip wine and to some seed
cake. He found both excellent. Aunt
Pen told him that she had made the wine
herself and Bertha the cake. Bertha
could make cakes with anybody, she add
ed; pies too; jam and pickles; beds also.
when needed; all thanks to her own
training of her; she was not going to
bring her up to be good only for fal-lals.
Mr. Brooks eyes had laughing light in
them as he listened, and Berthas meek
face was glowing with painful bushes.
Aunt Pen bade Mr. Brook drop in when
he liked at tea-hour, as she shook his
hand at parting; and he said ne would.
"Aunt Penelope is not in the least like
what mamma was, is shel' cried Bertha
in low, appealing tone, as she ran for
ward, hidden by her aunt, to open the
front door for Mr. Brook.
mo, indeed, he answered heartily the
same laughing light shining in his eyes
as he looked steadily into Berthas
A wonderful thing took place. Three
days later, as they we're finishing break
fast on the Monday morning at Uncle
Stephens, the postman brought letter
for Miss Dane. 1t was very rare thing
for him to bring letter at all to the
farm, but he had never yet brought one
to Bertha. The girl looked at her uncle
in indecision; could it be for her?
"Open it, child,' said he. Aunt Pen
was gone out with plateful of scraps
for the cocks and hens, or she would
have opened It herself. 1t proved to be
from Miss Carpenter, asking Miss Dane
to call upon her that morning without
any delay.
ooh, Uncle Stephen, What do yon
think it can be for?"
How should know, child2 TO try
the duet again, perhaps"
"Suppose-suppose Aunt Pen should
let me go?"
But she pust, think. lam going to
Crossdale presently and will take you"
"Do you think, Uncle Stephen, might
venture to put on my best Sunday
things?r questioned Bertha, in flutter
ing whisper. This frock is so shabby;
look at it; and Miss Carpenter is always
in silks and satins"
"Well don't know" replied Uncle
Stepen, quite inclined to wink at the inn
piled treachery. IF you could manage |
to slip out unseen, perhaps-but, if not,
you'd be sure TO be sent back to take it
off"
Aunt Pen gave in to the visit, but not
without a vast deal of scolding. This
was busy morning; Monday mornings |
always were busy; and there were hun
dred and one things to do. Aunt Pen
was down in the cellar, sailing some /
bacon, when Bertha slipped out in the
Sunday things A ruby merino ~frock"
Is Bertha called it, a nondescript kind Of
old fur tippet, which had become too
small for Aunt Pen, and black hat with /
an upright dahlia in it; all very much
the worse for wear.
Miss Carpenter was not in silks and
satins this morning. She was lying on 4
the sofa in her pretty sitting room over
The hair dresser's shop wrapped in be
coming grey dressing gown with a ge
ranium colored shawl upon it Bertha
looked the sorrow she felt when the
famous singer spoke in whisper, being
unable to speak in anything else.
"Oh, thank you, Miss Dane. You see
now l am; about to be laid up. No sing
ing for me, the doctor ssys, for the next
fortnight 1 was in the greatest distress
about the sacred concert until I thought
ofyou.'
But what is the natter asked Ber
.ha.
my throat-don't you hear how bad
I is: Mr. Glassup fears quinsy. l had it
1nce, some years ago. / am going back
% bed presently, and my old aunt is
coming to nurse me-
"Yes," observed Bertha, feeling rather
oewildered. And-did you want me to
10 anything for your
"Why, to be sure l do" cried Miss
speaking as briskly as her
'ore throat permitted. @You must take
ny place at the concert"
oh" cried Bertha, when able to speak.
~"
aYes Won .