The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1880-01-16

such light and frivolous occupations as
befit such day.
| Toward three o'clock the stOrm-clouds
roll up over the sky, a whirling wind
darkens the air with dust, and low
mutter of distant thunder growls from
the darkening west. Unfastened shut
tiers and open doors bang suddenly with
a force which shakes the house from top
to bottom, and acts on our nerves, al
ready tense from the electrical influences
which are abroad, like signals of menace
and deadly peril. We fly to close win
dows and make all fast, and, as we fin
ish our task, Lou says:
"Poor Aunt Con! This storm has
struck the city before it reached us.
She must be thoroughly drenched."
The o'clock train comes in, but we
watch in vain for Aunt Cons
figure toiling up the street from the
station. The o'clock train, too, fails
to bring her, and we begin to grow
little uneasy.
elf she does not come by the 6
o'clock train l shall telegraph" says
Lou.
At 10 minutes past o'clock precise
ly we see drenched, disheveled figure
toiling slowly up the street, and fly to
the door to meet and greet Aunt Con.
The storm is over by this time; its
skirts are rolling away in tender tangled
deeces of silvery white from the pure
blue of the sky. The foliage glitters in
its diamond gemmed freshness, the
birds twitter their delight that
"the rain is over and gone"
Across the eastern sky a rain
bow has flung its brilliant arch,
softly reflected in fainter, fairer tints on
the pale clouds above. In the midst of
the radiance and the glory stands Aunt
Con, limp, draggled, detected. Inky
drops follow each other in sad process
sion from the brim of her weather-beat-
en- bonnet. Streams of moisture flow
from every fold of her garments, which
cling to her figure like wet bathing
clothes. Every step she takes sounds
as if she were treading in pool of slush,
and from her parasol dark stream diff
fuses itself slowly over the spotless floor
of our little piazza. Lou catches the
parasol and carries it off to safer re-
gions, while stay to question and con-
dole with Aunt Con.
"Why didn't you take hack,
aunty?" 1 cry, forgetful for the moment
Of her principles.
81 would-yes, I think would, ~ says
Aunt Con, "only, you see, was as wet
as could be, anyhow; and them had
no money"
"Spendthrift aunty!" I cry, in de-
light. "Why, Aunt Con, 1 have hopes
of you yet, if you can spend all your for
tune in one day in this reckless manner.
What have you bought? A white ele-
plant, "a"
81 wish had," interrupts Aunt Con,
so dolefully that my POPULARITY receives
sudden check.
Lou comes back, and hurries Aunt
Con up stairs to change her dripping
clothes; then comes down again to brew
sundry wonderful decoctions, warranted
to prevent ill effects from the worst
drenching to which humanity is liable.
With beautiful Though, alas! i'll found
ed) faith in their efficacy, Aunt Con
makes her appearance at the tea table,
fully primed with the tale of her day in
the city.
All her operations had, as usual, been
conducted on scale of the strictest
economy. From the ferry she had, in
deed, INDUCED in the extravaganza of a
horse-car to her first shopping-place
but with that her superfluities ceased.
Wonderful bargains she had made, but
the particulars of them she was some
what shy of disclosing. With luncheon
or dinner she had dispensed, as need
less waste of money. When the rain
began she was in side street, and
started to walk to the Sixth Avenue
cars. "For," she explained, 81 had
about finished my shopping, and thought
1 might as well come home. My boots
were rather thin, and
"Why didn't you stop and buy pair
of India rubbers and an umbrella?"
asked Lou.