Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1880-04-16
HOW LUTIE's LOVER FOUND HER.

4
HOW LUTIE'S LOVER FOUND HER.
g THAT afternoon we had both beenp pick
. ing up pine-cones, Lutte and |, TO finish
out our picture-frames, and fancy bas-
kets. There was to be Bazaar in the
village, the following week, for the BEN
b lift OF the poor; and the good ladies,
p who had the charge of the preparations,
we're in need of all sorts of pretty
trifles.
Lutte and ], hearing of this, set to
work making frames and baskets. All
. the girls, in the neighborhood, were en-
gagged at some sort Of fancy work; and
the greater part of them intended their
articles as gratuitous contributions. But
Lutte and | were too poor for that. We
we're too proud to ask, or to receive, the
Il value of one farthing as charity, and
not one of the committee would have
dared to offer it; but we were obliged
to demand pay for whatever work we
did, and it was very willingly gwen.
Lutte, who was an exceedingly bust
ness-like little person, went down to see
Mrs. Fitzhugh, who was at the head of
the charitable committee, and arranged
the matter to the satisfaction of all con-
cerned. We were to make as many
frames and baskets as we liked, and to
receive a reasonable price for them.
Such chance to get money was seldom
offered to us, and we went to work in
earnest, and were busy from morning
until far into the night.
"Mrs Fitzhugh will pay us a shilling
apiece for the frames, and twenty-five
cents for the baskets, and we can COM
plete at least dozen of them. That'll
be twelve shillings and twelve quar-
ters,n said Lutte, counting on her pret-
ty, slender fingers, her brown eyes shin
ing with animation, "why, Bess, we
shall get rich"
"Yes, dear, we shall do famously,"
said, but sigh stifled the laughter on
my lips, as / thought how many needs
there were for every shilling we could
make.
But we set about our work with brave
hearts and willing hands. We were al
ways thankful for employment, Lutte
and l but there was not much in our
line to be had in the neighborhood.
People, for the most part, did their own
plain sewing, and fancy sewing, too, for
that matter; but occasionally Lutte
made bonnet for a neighbor, work
Tor which she had particular aptitude
and some experience. There was
drudgery to be done, to be sure, but
even if we had been willing, mamma
would not have allowed us to go ont as
housemaids. "No," she said, tive will
never stoop to that"
Poor mamma, sitting in her easy
chair, in the corner of the little brown
cottage, her white, handsome, helpless
hands crossed upon her lap; unable to
make one step; with no employment,
no amusement, but her dreams of
brighter days gone by, and the sunny
glimpse of green hill, and winding river,
beyond the window!
1t was dreadfully dull for her; for
there had been time when she was the
happy wife of an adoring husband, the
pretty, stylishly-robed mistress of a
home, which lacked none of life's best
luxuries.
But all that was past and gone. Poor
papa was in his grave, hundreds of
miles away; and the pretty home, with
AL its luxuries and attractions, had
passed into other hands. How the
change came about, matters little, for
this liieis full of changes; but that au-
mmn day, when Lutte and ! went out
to gather pine-cones, we had only the
latticed window shut in from the road
by its rude stone wall, and what our
hands could earn; and poor mamma
was helpless invalid.
We had not lived in the cottage
great while. Immediately after papa's
hnd 10 a aI
town; and mamma and had rooms in
the dwelling of a widow lady, while
Lutte sought situation as governess.
But, alas, there were more governesses
than situations, and finally, Lutte, who
had always had great taste in dress, was
employed by the fashionable milliner of
the place. 1t was IA descent, so to
speak; "but we must hve," said Lutte,
bravely. Her wages kept mamma and
me quite comfortably, and with what
little could do in the way of sewing,
we were getting on so nicely, when
sudden and mysterious trouble fell up
on us.
One day, Lutte came home, in a
drenching rain, with a bonnet that she
had been sent out with, but had not
delivered. She had face like a ghost.
was sure she was ill--dying, perhaps
she looked so ghastly.
flew to her side.
" Hush, hush," she whispered, in
stifed voice, putting her hand TO her
heart, "if you love me, Bess, don't ask
me question; and on your life don't
give mamma hint of this. shall be
myself again in very little while, if
you'll leave me. Go out and make the
TEA, dear"
] always obeyed Lutte. While l was
making the tea, boy came with let
ten. 1t was for Lutte, and took it in
to her. Her soft eyes seemed to blaze
as she looked at the address.
stake it back, Bess," she said, with
the voice and air of queen, "and tell
the bearer never TO bring another"
Then she went up TO her room.
did as l was bidden. An hour later,
Lutte came down, with her old face and
smile.
"Bess," she said, and put her arms
round me, and kissed me, you've al
WAYS been good sister TO me be better
than good now: never speak to me of
hisZthis-trouble, Bess."
al never will, Lutte" said.
The very next day, we left the town,
and found refuge in the brown cottage,
days journey by rail away. Here we
made our home. Mamma fretted little,
but she had such confidence in Lutie's
wisdom, that she let her have her way.
And Lutte never once alluded TO her
trouble, nor did dare TO press for her
confidence.
"Irs so lucky we've the baskets and
frames 10 make, Bess," said Lutte, as
We sal down under the Pine-ridge, to