The Benton weekly record. [volume] (Benton, Mont.) 1880-1885, 1880-03-05
TODDLES.

AeiL 1tht iduy tHaG morning. l Wt
3, Lady, thought, after all; quite as MI
IS, 80 aa Mrs. Jones, who lived in the gr
OF cupola-house On the hill. Quite as MI
q, Of lady, | said to myself, brishly, Z
m busted up my little shop, and arranged
rs sheeny ribbons and gay striped goods
70 the window. The window was hung W
ii pretty lace curtains, and there was glc
+ Of gold fish in it that sailed about as CO..
ID teously and busily as though they W.
T. getting their living as head clerks.
III 1t was sweet, soft autumn morniu
le the village street was grassy and quiet, Il
a l. hummed tune as glanced cheeriIy c
le at little Toddles, ttitting about III her SCI
let ribbons under the old willow outsiG
y Bless her little rosy face! why shouldn't
e be happy when I've her to look after?
was happy, and l hummed again til
), old snatch Of tune, and nodded gayly
ToddleS, wondering vaguely to inyse
what was going to happen that I felt
uncannily bright. Nothing-simply notl
ing; things were done happening me Ion
: since. My way was straight and narroy
my days quiet and uneventful
AS slipped my coffee that cnorning
remember that l held the cup to the ligh
and felt Il certain sense of satisfaction j
the translucence of the rare bit of china.
is so pleasant to know that ones electio
may keep one aloof from the ugliueas an
equalor of poverty.
1t doesn't take much 10 keep one person
Of course, and I don't count Toddles TO
anything. 1t needs but the odds and end
Of things--a bowl of bread and milk:
cup Of coffee, with now and then liyel,
bit OF ribbon-to keep the little one goin1
famously.
Yes, always wanted to be lady. Ant
as I sat in my bright little room half fell
inclined to forgive Richard Gray the heart
break he gave me long ago. And, o, God
| it was a heart-break. But if he had mar.
ried me, perhaps he would have shut me
up in some glossy city house, to be lady
after his fashion, to stitle for want OF bit
of fresh air, to walk softly under thou
sand petty conventionalities, and to cease
being my own mistress. All that never
could endure: So it is, perhaps, as well
that Richard left me and went off some
Where--God knows where.
You see, like tiny little shop. There
is something SO delightful in seeing the
pretty girls Of the village, with now and
then fine lady, hanging over my dainty
wares, and trying the tints of scarlet and
blue and orange with many laugh and
many glance in the mirror. call it nv
reception when they pour in Of holiday
afternoon. l love oo1ors; love grace and
beauty; and perhaps l might have been a
bit Of an artist i'll my way, if I'd ever had
the opportunity. Richard used to say so.
But alas! he said many flattering thing
and many a false in those old days. And
if ever dreamed Of any higher life than
me now-Well, I've give up
dreaming.
For there's Toddles, SO round and sweet.
and soft and real. She leaves NE little
time for building air-castles.
You see, L love the child as if she were
my very own. For she came to me one
lay, about four years ago, a wee little baby
hing, curled up in heap on my door step
when ! went to open the shutters: Where
,ver she came from never knew; Toddles
never explained. She just stretched up
Ter little fat arms to me and gurgled Tod
and that was her sole intro
luctibn.
1t was surmiscd that the child had BEEN
ropped by some travelling circus passing
hrough the town, and / had excellent
1eighborly advice about putting the treas /
Ire i'll the foundling hospital. But one
eldom takes good advice, and I didn't.
To tell the truth, / grew so attached to
he child that should even have been /
Ficked enough, I fear, to regret any ones /
irning up to claim it. But that's not at
II likely now, after SO many years-no, |
ot at all likely; no more likely than that /
siSitdki thiih l. etiOtli GhCI illCSi again liz J
lis world. And that-tllat is among the !
lings that can never happen. 1t was on |
lis wise, otlr parting:
Richards s mother was old and feeble and
liserly. She had spent a good deal of |
loney on him-sent him to college, and |
zpected, folks said, to ''nfake something
him. She always expected to get her
loney's worth out Of her transactions.
ichard held her i'll a sort of awe, some
ow, though she was u little Wizened old
oman that he could have lifted with his
# hand. But liked him for respecting
Is mother.
One day we two were sitting at twilight
liking Of the future dreamily, as was our
ont.
My little one, said Richard, putting
s arm about me, "it half seems too bright
ever be-
Ever be " echoed. '.Oh, Richard, if
ou talk that way it will never be.
Richard smiled, but his face grew over
lst. | felt that storm was coming.
. ''Well?" l queried, seeing that he sat
.ooding and silent.
Darling, = he said soothingly, Il knew
would come hardly to you; but howcan
60 against my mother? Her poor old
.art is bound up in me, Jeanette, and
e willneyer hear toto anything that
."l'hat seems to lower you, = added, III
steelly voice, that seemed to cut its way
II Of heart like a keen, cold knife.
"Oh, I'm a coward-a poltroon,o cried
ichard, wringing his hands. II was born {
bring trouble Oh those / love. Who,
ho shall leave 10 suffer for me now,
Il
''The one who viii say least about it, =
hardly. Ny heart was throb- !
30 heavily like the clock that ticks the
ur OF execution; but | made no outcry,
d we parted, in that final parting, Il !
ntly. And | have lived silently ever
ice. !
One year after that heard that Rich
DIS mother vas dead and then that he i
d maETied--Who ! knew not. who j
red not. He had married another wo-
m while my last words We're yet ringing
Ills ears-right there before the face Of i
{ living Heaven married another woman
d awore to love and cherish her, IS he eEt
d often vowed to love and cherish me
But did not seem to feel this blow as
had felt our parting. I just lung him |
/ Of my heart there and then, and my
Fe and my silence sanished. ! looked
q tile face DC my misery with q. mile, lt',