The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1878-03-28
I never enjoyed myself SC

/ thing in box.
81 hate your" l cried. Nobody
! ever treated me so before"
"But how many have you treated so?"
he asked, with smile; and l couldn't
help thinking how handsome he looked
| in the silver moonlight.
Everybody has always done what
ever l wanted them to do" went on,
stamping my foot.
"And consequently spoiled you," said
he.
"What did you love me for, if Pm
not-not nice%'
"Because l knew the moment / saw
you, you wee thing, you we're my fate
| thought you were nice then, and wanted
to take you in my arms the moment you
smiled on me-"
! And now"'
And now | think you bad temper
ed, selfish, willful, unreasonable girl"
Indeedw and | wrenched my hand
away, but not before he had kissed it with
the most provoking GOODNESS. "Then
we'll part, unless you change your opinion
Immediately, and promise Eever to speak
/ to Meta Brooke again.
shall make no silly promise, Bar
bara." Good gracious! the idea of his
calling me Barbara 81 have promised
! to drive her to the depot tomorrow"
GU return to the city tOgether?
| owe return by the same train, as we
have done dozen times before"
Co." said l, almost beside myself
with rage. never want to see you
again"
Are you sure, Barbara" he asked
"quite sure? l think you had better
wait for a day or two before you Danish
me. If by the day after tomorrow
your birthday-you still hate me, send
me word to that effect, and | viii, the
moment your note is read, accept posi-
ton offered me this morning, and start
for home beyond the sea. Goodnight,
Miss Darling"
" Goodnight, Mr.. Ditto"
And he strobe away up the road, and
| picked mp my ring and stole into the
I house, and cried as though my heart
would break. 1t was so cruel of him to
be unkind to poor little thing like me-
The next morning, as | sat on the front
/ porch darning the children's stockings
dear me. it seems to me every time stock
/ ing-darning time comes around that there
never could be another family with 50
many legs as ours-Anthony drove past
with Meta Brooke by his side.
/ | hid behind the stocking basket until
| they were out of sight, and then | flew
/ to my desk and wrote as bitter a note as
a woman twice my size could have writ
/ ten, and l sent it to our village postoffice
that very evening by our little servant
maid.
/ Our little servant-maid is a pretty lit
tie maid, with large honest gray eyes, a
small red mouth, bright chestnut hair, a
/ pleasant smile, neat, plump figure, and
a remarkably cheerful disposition. And
clever little maid she is, too-can wash
and iron and cook, and do hundred
other things; but she possesses one taste
which interferes sadly with the perform
ance of her domestic duties-the most
insatiate hunger for literature, which she
gratities whenever she finds an oppor-
tunity, in season or out of season, morn,
neon or night.
Potatoes and stews are burned. bread,
cakes and pies baked to cinders, doors
/ left open all night, breakfasts delayed,
lunches forgotten, dinners served too
early or too late-all on account of this
love of reading which characterizes our
little servant-maid.
1 She neary drowned baby once, while
giving her her bath, by letting the dar-
ling's head slip under the water, while
she devoured story in Harpers
Weekly she had taken from table near
by. She let my canary escape while she
/ removed his empty seed cup with one
hand and Helen's Babies in the other,
her eyes being fixed on the book. She
spilled the soup one dinner-time over
papa's immaculate white vest while try
! ing to peep at the magazine he was
glancirg over. She set the hot flat-iron
on our best damask table-cloth, and left it
there to indelibly imprint its triangular
portrait, while she hastily read a muir.
! der case in the morning paper.
/ She could be scarcely got out of bed
mornings, because she was tired aud
sleepy from reading the book she had alb
/ stracted from the bookcase the night
before, and when she did get up she
actually sat before the dreary- looking
/ stove for half an hour or so, intently pc
rusing the various scraps of newspaper
while she should be lighting the fire.
In short, if she had not been the most
devoted, sunny, unselfish, fond. of-us-all
little creature, it would have been ut
terly impossible for us to have stood the
many mishaps and disasters that sprang
from our servant-maid's devotion to lit
! erature. As it was, papa said to her
when she drenched him with soup:
/ Another occurrence of this nature, and
/ you CO." And mamma said to her
! 10 w ~ lol
Really, Eleanor, if anything as dread
full as this happens again, we must part"
And | said to her when she freed nav
song-bird: "The very next wrong thing
you do while reading" and | made a
significant pause and looked.
Yes, miss" said Nellie, meekly, with
the tears in her gray eyes, which didn't
prevent her, as soon as she reached the
kitchen, bursting out with "Why, why,
why didst thou leave me?" to tune
made up of a strange combination of
cold Dan Tucker" and "The Russian
Hymn"
But with the exception of turkey
nicely roasted and sent to table retaining
It's crop and one or two other superhuous
appendices to turkey when roasted, on
account of " Red as Rose is She" and
forgetting to put the yeast in the bread
one night because East Lynne" lay be-
side the bread bowl, Nellie had got into
no trouble for several months, and had
gladly said me, the morning of the very
day | sent that horrid letter: $50, miss,
| shall be with you another birthday.
after all; and isn't that "Monarch of
Milking Lane lovely? [ read little
bit of 1t when | was busting the parlor
miss"
Well, to go back to naughty Barbara,
standing by the window, and gazing out
into the street.
Oh, how my heart ached, How sorry
was for quarreling with nv dear. good.
splendid Anthony! The first thing this
morning, my birthday morning; last
year was scarcely through my break
fast when he came, bringing me the
loveliest set of pearls-he will get nv