Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-07-22

"Pah, Never! SAID ION. 'UOOd
gracious | should think not That
would be another case of hiding ones
light under a bushel! Now just leave it
to me, Prue."
| was silent, but not convinced. Aunty
was more easily won over. Tom was her
oracle She never appealed from him.
So Daisy went, with much shyness and
confusion and trembling, from which |
argued that this experiment would soon
spend itself. What was my chagrin
when several days after, Daisy, with a
burst of tears, threw herself upon my
neck, and declared that hereafter she
would bear her share of the family ex-
penscS; that her venture was a success,
and she was engaged.
looked from her to Tom, my thin,
slow blood beginning to quicken.
"Engagcd;' | repeated.
YES, said Tom glibly, "she made a
hit; | told you she would 1t was splen-
did. She carried everything before her.
never was SO proud of anything in my
life"
How" | said, soberly.
How" repeated Tom, somewhat So
berly. "Why y- why -a-you don't
know the routine, you see, Prue. It's
difficult to explain; pens and paper and
stamps-particularly stamps. She's en-
gagged in the stamp department, Pruc.
Daisy said not word, but looked so
glad and radiant, poor child, that | had
no further heart to hinder their JOY; but
! couldn't help saving that had no idea
thev had ladies at the office. Tom had
never mentioned it.
Ladies, God bless you, Prue, they're
everywhere. The whole government will
be administered by the fair sex one of
these days, and quite right, too. Now
don't YOU worry about Daisy. I'll take
care of her"
But | did worry, nevertheless. To
have Daisy employed at that extra night
work made me nervous and uncomtorta-
bic. In vain they assured me that the
work was light and easy and profitable;
in vain Daisy pointed out to me the adj
vantage of being able to stay at home
with aunty, who was growing old and IN
capable of. domestic duties; in vain Tom
counted. ont of the mock bank book, the
crisp notes for the rent; in vain Daisy
bought for me the pretty tinted engray-
ing had so hong coveted; that bright
carpet covered the old parlor floor, and
little graceful knick- -knacks made their
way into the empty old corners, and
auuty rejoiced in a soft fine cashmere
robe that clung comfortably to her poor
shrinking form. In vain-in vain. !
was miserable. most miserable Rather
the humble security and safcty-iar rath
er. My days were passed in tormenting.
doubtful revcric; my nights were haunted
by melancholy dreams, so that | started
up in bed and was never satisfied until |
had gone to look at Daisy. and, bending
over the child. was only consoled to find
her sleeping mnoccntly. with her rounded
cheek upon her arm.
| never could get to sleep till Tom and
Daisy were home, and everything settled
for the night: and ! used to lie awake
listening for the rumble of the cab wheels;
for it seemed their united efforts could
now afford a cab Daisy always came
straight to me and kissed me good night;
and can not tell what it was that made
me more and more wrctched as the bril-
liant. beautiful creature bent over me
with all and more of her old tenderness.
one of these nights lay awake for long
time after she had gone, and finally |
went wandering, as usual to DaiSys bed
side. She slumbered easily, like little
child. with her hand buried in the fluffy
waves of her hair, and gazing thus, |
fancicd ! saw a deep red bar of crimson
upon her cheek, and scarcely knowing
what was about, held the lamp still
closer, and taking the fine cambria trill OF
her night gown, rubbed 1t lightly upon
the stain, and, yes-ah, the bitterness OF
having damning doubt confirmed !-ah!
YES. the color came off. The child's cheek
had been painted 1t was mercy to
God | did not drop the lamp upon the
floor. | dropped there myself shortly
after and knew no more until the morn
ing. remember the cold gray light of
day stealing into my room and then
dropped off again into an exhausted sleep
till noon. | heard Daisys soft football
at the door, and closed my eyes for |
couldn't bear to look upon her She went
softly away again, only to come shortly
after and look at me again. The next
footstep | heard was Toms. Coming on
tiptoe in my room, which made his boots
squeak all the more, he found my eyes
wide open and staring upon him. He
started back in alarm, for suppose he
saw something wild and strained about
them.
"Why, my dear old Prudy-" he be-
gan.
But drew him closer to me, and whis-
pered fercely "No more Dight-work for
Daisy. | won't have it. Doyou under
stand, Pray God it may not be too late
to save the child now"
His face took a serious expression, and
he pulled at his moustache. Now see
here. Prue," he said, "don't, for heavens
sake, get any nonsense Of that kind into
YOUR head. She couldn't drop out now,
you know; the very devil would be to
pay"
Eyes, you have said it, replied, bit