Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1878-10-18

THE LINING OF THE CLOUD.
BY NORA WORK.

BY NORA WORK.
Margaret Holloway washed the break
fast dishes one chilly winters morning,
Just as she usually did. Her father was
il thriftless Ohio farmer, her home less
snug than stable, her mother worn
out with fretting, and the younger
children quarreling rs usual behind
the stove, while dying baby dragged
through its last hours on the maternal
knee. Margaret was eighteen; but
months are years to the poor. Tired
with this long hand to hand fight with
want she was attempting to prepare
herself for teaching, and had thought,
"Next summer | will secure school,
and earn something for mother and the
children. There is no depending on
father" But her weary look had grown
into a hunted one to-day, in that wretch
ed house SO near a dying brother.
"Pm not going to school to-day,
mother" answering Mrs. Holloway's
eyes, the baby is too sick"
Margaret took the broom to brush the
ashes from the hearth. Two boys were
playing with sticks.
Drat you Jack y exclaimed one,
get out q my freroom. Feller might
freeze for all you"
A scuthe and some cuffs followed.
Margaret's voice sharpened. Boys,
I'll punish both Of you if this is not
stopped.
Mr. Holloway stupidity smoking a
cob pipe in the warmest corner, looked
on unmoved, and the baby set up a
wall.
Margaret Y called the frightened
mother, "see now he Jerks" Three
steps brought the sister to bend pite-
GUS face over the tt sasured child. 1T
has spasams, mother. Father !"-she
laid grasping hand on the heavy be-
ing" the baby has got spasms You
must 90 across for Mrs. Lamb. Make
haste.
Poor little chap" returned the fond
sire, "Tll help mother while you run
along, honey This deep snow is so
bad for my rheumatics."
SO Margaret covered her head, and
ran half distractedly, while Mr.. Hollo-
way curled up to the fire, and sent
denser fumes of miserable tobacco from
the pipe, told the little fellow not to cry,
for the little feller'd get over it, in
which manner he continued to help till
the daughters return. Hot water baths
and generous nourishment could effect
nothing The child died, good hands
dressed it in plain white garments, and
laid It under sheet. Margaret Hollo-
ways infant solace, born in blossom
time and hope, her sweet little brother,
had gone in chill and despair.
Dependency weighed on this girls
frame with complete lassitude. AT the
humble funeral, in home afterwards,
through morning duties and school
ward, she was melancholy thing,
| must not lose a day." was the
thought that nerved her to pin her
snawl, tie an old nubia over her head,
and journey forth, books in hand.
The baby was buried yesterday, and
mother may die. too. before | can help
her." No elasticity III her steps, no
wide eyes for snowy beauty. Poverty
was like a key that had locked her
senses. They did not enter into the soul
IF anything. There was no meaning in
all the rays cleaning from the
spectrum Of one white crystal, no
resemblance to sculpture in the drifted
heaps, no sensation from the day but
chill and misery. A thousand days
Knocked her just SO. She waded and
shivered.
Now, the teacher who ruled in that
lately-reared edifice called Plum-R
school house, was a young man Of VERY
prepossessing appearance Unac-
countably, all the young women Of
Plum-Row (Which being defined il a
street" well sprinkled along with farms
and plum orchards, found their mo-
thers could spare them much better
than during previous terms. The house
was full. Young men determined 10
make tic best Of such an opportunity.
Their teacher was of brave Saxon
cast, whose features though softly cary
u, beamed with resolution. German
blood and German impulses were 50
Americanized in Fritz Hainer as 70
maze him more attractive than tile