Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-09-05

! swered, much moved. 81 am glad you
do. knew you would do him good this
summer. cannot tell you the comfort
1t is to me to have him In the country,
and with you. I knew you must love
the little fellow, for you loved his mother
we'll"
Loved her, yes" I said, my tears
suddenly bursting forth. ~ can't get
used to doing without her, barry; Ican't
get over it."
81 see," he said. eve are fellow
mourners, Nora
The little head stirred one VI two of
my tears had fallen On the sweet baby
face and wakened him. He sat up and
rubbed his eyes amazed.
"What a funny place! what long cob
websm he said. ooh, I remember now,
the COW. Is she all right again? Why,
papa, where did you come from?
II came from the city, Bardie. When
I reached there this morning found the
man I wanted to see was Ill, and wouldn' t
come to town for three days. and so I
posted back to you"
"That was right said Bardie. "To
me and Nora"
eyes, to you and Nora,'' said Harry,
with kind smile at me. "But Bardle,
the first person met was Miss Scuba
more, who told me very sad tale. I
am afraid my little boy was very saucy
and disrespectful.'
"Oh, papa, it was too funny to see her
run with her red stockings. I told her
not to come. / told her the cow might
kill her. But Miss Scudamore, why she
scudded more than ever,s and he went
into fit of mirth at his first attempt at
pun.
I responded to the sally with q weak
minded laugh, but his father looked aw-
full.
"No more of this, sir,' he said. in a
voice of strong d1spleasure. "It you can
not behave properly to the ladies in this
house, will send you away with your
nurse, and not let you come here again |
will not expose them to the rudeness OF
a naughty little boy.
Bardie covered Under the severe
glance and chung to me. I looked pite-
Gus.
s'Do not encourage him, Ellinor,'' said
Harry, in softer tone. ':It is a great
misfortune to motherless child to grow
up among strangers and servants, who
spoil him and then dislike him because
he is spoiled" But he stroked the
little penitent head, land then suggested
that a hay.rick was not the coolest place
on summer noon, and that dinner must
be almost ready.
eyes. papa; but first want to ask you
something. Will you take us, me and
Nora, to drive this afternoon? The horses
aren't haying to-day, and we want to go
so much. Please do
Harry laughed and stole a glance at
my face, which I dare say revealed an
noyance as well as amusement.
s'Not to-day, Bardie. I am going to
take you over to the hotel to play GRO
quet with the little Temples
"Will you come too, Nora?'' asked
Bardie.
"No, dear; called there last night"
said, and I drew long breath at the
idea of quiet afternoon. Bardie safe
and Harry away-away for the long
evening, my heart whispered. Sophy
Temple and tea at the hotel, and long
evening walk, and who can. tell what
else? And with a jealous pang tor Susie,
thought, eff only might have Bardie,
I wouldn't care"
So, after Aunt Urania had settled her
self to- her afternoon nap, changed my
dress and rested awhile, watching from
my window until I saw Harry and Bar
die walking across the fields; Coralie
followed, and / said to myself: 81
thought SO; he will be .rammeled! ~
and carried my water-color box and
sketching stool out to a beautiful spot
| at the end of rambling old garden,
where a low stone wall divided the
| struggling flower beds from the pas
ture beyond. There were shady tree
and soft, overgrown clumps of bushes
and underground, so that the retreat
though not very far from the house, was
entirely secluded, and it commanded a
lovely little glimpse of wood and river,
with soft, blue hills beyond, and in the
foreground the white spire Of the vii
lage church shooting up through the
greenery.
Such quiet afternoon to sketch and
paint! No little, tormenting fingers to
NEEDLE and '.joggle," no perpetual little
tongue to ask unceasing questions; only
the silence, and the summer music
sweeter than silence; the soft whispers
in the trees, the sleepy, droning hum OF
bees, the chlrp of a. bird; even the
spring of the grasshopper n the grass at
my feet was distinct IN the golden hush.
Yes, that hazy light was beautiful, the
opportunity perfect. Why could not I
make use Of it? Why could not I paint
instead of sinking back after few list
less efforts, with heavy heart and
clasped hands, and let the, full weight Of
my lonely life fall On my spirit9 Ny IA
there is always glad to be free from any
charge OF me; Aunt Urania she
meant kindly, and was good to me, but
what bore! Susie, my chosen friend,
my hearts sister, who had led and loved
me from childhood, gone into the land of
shadows, and none to take her place in
my life forever. Even her sweet little
boy would be taken from me no doubt
before long and given to some other
woman-some Sophy Temple! And Har-
rv-Rut at that stage OF nv reyerie when