The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1880-06-17
4 SLICE OF BREAD AND BUTTER.

ed Miss IOnnda Cross ''crCss by name
and cross by nature, the childrea-yes,
and many Of the grown-up -ups-of the
neighborhood declared herr, as she pro
nouuced apon the hinge loaf OF bread
which she hal taken from the oven and
put into the big stone crock only hall an
hour ago, Just before she tuned her
straiglt-up-a down back on the kitcll
en-, to stalk TO the gaIret after ''that idle
hussy, Molly'-the maid-o Of all work
''who had been twice rs long as she
ought to have been making the beds
there.
| sad the huge loaf should have
said half the hinge loaf, for only thai
proportion Of the newly baked bread
remained
'Dor-o thy Wal do-o-o!" again
screamed Miss Cross, in an ascending
scale, with all ominous tremolo on the
last note.
eyes, aunt" replied sweet, fresh
young voice; and a pretty young girl
came in from the garden with basket OF
cherry red currants in her hand.
A tiny thing she was, with round,
dimpled, rosy face, innocent child like
blue gray eyes, and fair hair, some short
tresses of which had escaped from the
braid into which they had been bound,
and were making a delightful use of
their freedom by curling i'll the most
charming manner about the low frank
brow and little pink-tipped ears.
About "sweet SIXTEEN" a stranger
would have pronounced her; but Dolly,
as her youthful companions, much to the
disgust of her aunt Lorinda, called her,
was older than that by year and half.
An orphan at the age of twelve, she
had been left to the care of the only rela-
tive she knew, her mothers elder sister
"a woman hard in speech and manners,
and anything but soft in heart This
maiden lady soured irrevocably on her
twenty fourth birthday, which should
have also been her wedding day; but at
the very moment she was fastening the
orange blossoms in her hair had come
the news that her betrothed had eloped
with the girl friend she had chosen for
her bride maid. Lorinda tore the bridal
wreath into fragments, and scattered it
| to the winds; never mentioned the false
pair from that hour, banished forever all
the womanly grace and tenderness she
had ever possessed (truth to tell, she had
never possessed much), and became the
hardest worker of her sex that ever worked
upon a farm. In q mans boots, coat
and hat, early and late, not or cold, wet
or dry, with set mouth, lowering brow
and silent lips, she toiled side by side
with her sturdy old father, until the day
he was struck down by the pitiless sun,
and died a few hours after-died just in
time to be saved the pang of hearing
that his youngest and favorite daughter
was lying at the point of death, widowed
and friendlcss, in far away city. Lor-
india buried her father-if she wept for
him, none saw promoted a man who
had been long in his employment to the
position she used herself to occupy, and
started for her sisters bedside. When
she returned to Fernvlle again, she
brought dear little, fair haired, soft eyed
Dorothy with her, and some Of her
neighbors fancied that since that time
she had been II shade less stern; but il
she had been, it was so slight n shade
that it was almost impossible to perceive
It, True, she did less QUITO door work,
and devoted part of the time thus saved
to teaching her niece to sew, and cook,
and churn, and other like accomplish
ments: but never were the lessons accom-
panied by an approving smile or kindly
word, much less loving kiss. Even TO
the gentle, winning child, Lorinda Cross
remained a cold, stern woman. But
Dorothy, God bless her, was SO sunny in
disposition that the stern ways and dark
face OF her aunt could not cloud her young
life And though shut out from that
iniiexible woman's heart, she found the
doors of all other hearts wide open to
her. The dogs, the cats, the hens, the
chickens. the horses, the COWS, the calves.
the very geese. regarded her With adora-
ton. The farm laborers blessed her
pretty face whenever she eamo among
them: and as fog Molly-poor, har,Iwork-
ed AIolly!-she would have kissed the
ground the little feet trod upon.
What wonder, then, that Dan Howell,
the young surveyor, who lived Galf q
mile away, il the Gid stone cottage, and
whom she had known from the very first
day OF her arrival in Fernville (when he,
then a tall, bright faced boy OF fifteen,
passing her aunt's gate, and seeing the
sad looking little girl in her black dress,
standing by it, silently offered her the
prettiest white rabbits she had ever seen
IA rabbit he had been coaying Abuc-
Brown lor 4 l.onta past 70 sell him, and
which now he parted with without auoth-
. er thought, at sight of those lovely tear
full eyes and that sweet wistful face)-
what wonder, | say, that he Thought Of
herby day, and dreamed of herby night?"
But 10 80 back. Dorothy came smiling
into the kitchen, her lips and cheeks IS
red rs the eurrapts she carried, but the
smile faded away when she met her aunt 5
irate gaze.
ibid you cut this loaf and leave it
here in this hot room to dry to a chip?''
demanded Miss Cross; and then she add.
ed, emphaticaliy, without waiting for an
answer: "But Of course you did. No
one else would have dared 10 do it. And