Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-01-28

farmer In neighboring county.
So all that had been done for the
child had been done grudgingly, but
Notwithstanding she grew up beautiful
and bright. The towns people, with
whom Miss Phoebe was no favorite,
whispered that she would never forgive
Polly for being so pretty-it was con-
tinual cross to her. And perhaps this
was SO, for at one time Miss Phebe's
eyes were cast on the minister, but find
lug that there was not shadow of q
chance for her, she determined, to use
her own expression, that Polly should
not "entrap, him" and she set to work
accordingly.
Mr.. Thompson Jones, in other words,
Tom Jones, and his young wife inhabit-
| ed a handsome brown-stone residence on
Twenty-ffth street. The street lamps
were lighted and glittering with frost
1t was dusk of snowy night in the latter
part of November.
Mr.. Jones and his wife chatted and
! laughed over cosy tea-table.
How do you like your new girl,
der?" queried Tom; 81 never saw a
better cooked steak; must be a good
cook"
"Good," echoed Mrs. Jones 4" I think
she is; she's a jewel, treasure. And
Tom," she continued, enthusiastically,
"haye you seen her? She is a perfect
beauty"
eyes" said Tom, absently, "but she
only struck me as looking too young to
know much. By the way, I heard from
Frank to-day; he will take dinner with
us tomorrow. By Jove, won't I be q
happy mani A new house (paid for, q
pretty wife, q good cook, and dear old
Frank to sit at my board Do you know
he has had a call here
"Of course he Will accept it inter
rupted Mrs. Jones. cit is shame for
a man of his talent to bury himself in an
obscure village"
"Of course he will. I wrote to him
that [ would show him perfect house
tomorrow, Mrs. Jones. So be prepared
for explorations of all your premises;
every water pipe will be examined Of
course they are always spotlessly clean,
but thought 1 would warn you-and-
keep your pretty cook out of way, for
[ want Frank to think Mrs. Jones the
prettiest woman in the house, at any
rate"
The next day dawned bright and clear.
Polly looked wistfully out of the case
ment window of the house in Twenty
fifth street. She would have liked to
join the throng of richly-dressed people
crowding to hear the new minister, called
to the church around the corner.
The dinner hour was five, SO she could
have found time to go, but since she had
been serving in her new capacity it was
only by great effort that she compelled
herself to go out to buy necessary cloth
ing. She watched little Mrs. Jones trail
| down the steps in an elegant velvet walk
ing suit, leaning on her husbands arm.
Polly wiped a mist from her eyes, and,
concluding the front window was not
| good for her, she went back to the
kitchen and warbled little song to cheer
herself. And the canary in his cage took
up the song, and no harsh voice silenced
them. The poor child always comforted
herself with the thought that her present
mental position was only temporary; she
only assumed it until she could find some
other way to make a living. Mrs. Jonse
was very sweet and kind, kinder than
any one she had lived with during the
| year. She really had something to be
thankful for
Feeling that she must not indulge In
repining on such day, Polly summoned
her brightest thoughts, and even dim
pie or two peeped out as she thought Of
that happy morning over the pies, and
OF her absurd mistake year ago.
g [ suppose he and Melissa are mar
ried long since. Oh! if I could only hear
him speak once morer'
The morning slipped away, and Polly
was surprised when she heard them COM
ing home from church.
Again she was making pumpkin pies.
| Mrs Jones had said: ooh! do YOU
make good old-fashioned pumpkin pies :?
Mr.. Jones thinks there is nothing more
delicious, and [ know he would like to
have some"
So now the new cook stood beside the
table with her curls tucked under q
somewhat coquettish little cap, long,
demure apron on, and her sleeves rolled
up. Presently she heard steps and
laughing voices in the passage, the door
opened, and she looked up surprised,
with her sitter in her hands. Mrs.
Jones was holding her long velvet skirt
around her, and saying: "Tom is such
goose; he thinks nobody ever had such
house, and he will drag you from gar
ret to cellar. l hope you don't mind"
Receiving no answer, she turned and
looked at her guest. He was standing
in front of Polly, who, crimson and trem-
bling, was letting the flour dribble down
on the floor. "Can it be possible!' he
said, huskily; can it be possible that I
have found you! I had almost lost hope"
And right there, before the astonished
eyes of Mr.. and Mrs. Jones, the houry
arms of their new cook went round the
minister's neck, and she was sobbing on