The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1880-06-03

NODO0y KNOWS
How the rain comes down
In the town.
james III. Morse, irl Harpcr's for juno.
A SLICE OF BREAD AND BUTTER.
"Dorothy-Dorothy Waldor' scream
ed Miss Lorinda Cross cscross by
name and cross by nature" the chill
dren-yes, and many of the grown-ups
of the neighborhood declared her),
as she pounced upon the huge loaf of
bread which she had taken from the
oven and put into the big stone crock
only half an hour ago, just before she
turned her straight-up-and-down back
on the kitchen, to stalk to the garret
after "that idle hussy, Molly"-the
maid-of- all-work -" who had been
twice as long as she ought to have been
making the beds there"
said the huge loaf. / should have
said half the huge loaf, for only that
proportion Of the newly-baked bread
remained.
"Dor-o-thy Wal-do-o-oi" again
screamed Miss Cross, in an ascending
scale, with an ominous tremolo on the
last note.
"Yes, aunt" replied a sweet, fresh
young voice; and q pretty young girl
came in from the garden with q basket
of cherry-red currants in her hand.
A, tiny thing she was, with round,
dimpled, rosy face, innocent chud-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 delightful
use of their freedom by curling in the
most charming manner about the low
frank brow and little pink-tipped ears.
About ''sweet SIXTEEN" 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
a half.
An orphan at the age of twelve, she
had been left to the care of the only
relative she knew, her mothers elder
sister-a woman hard in speech and
manners, and anything but soft in
heart. This maiden lady soured irrev-
ocably on her twenty-fourth birthday,
which should have also been her we'd
ding 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 eveI
worked upon farm. In mans boots.
coat and hat, early and late, hot
or cold, wet OF dry, with Sc,
mouth, lowering brow and silent
lips, she toiled side by side with hel
sturdy old father, until the day he was
struck down by the pitiless sun, anG
died few hours after--died just in
time to be saved the pang of hearing
that his youngest and favorite daugh
ter was lying at the point of death
widowed and friendless, in far-away
city. Lorinda buried her father-i
she wept for him, none saw her-pro
NOTED a man who had been long in hi:
employment to the position she useC
herself to occupy, and started for he
sisters bedside. When she returned
to Fernville again, she brought deal
little, fair-haired, soft-eyed Dorothy
with her, and some of her neighbour
fancied that since that time she has
been q shade less stern; but if she hat
been, it was so slight shade that j
was almost impossible to perceive it
True, she did less out-of-door work
and devoted part of the time thus save,
to teaching her niece to sew, and cook
and churn, and other like accomplish
ments; but never were the lessons &C
companied by an approving smile o
kindly word, much less loving kiss
Even to the gentle, winning child, Lo
rinda Cross remained a cold, sterl
woman But Dorothy, God bless her
was so sunny in disposition that tn,
could not cloud her young life. An,
though shut out from that inflexibl
woman's heayt, she found the doors o
all other hearts wide open to her. TIL,
dogs, the cats, the hens, the chic kens
the horses, the cows, the calves, tn
very geese, regarded her with adora
ton. The farm laborers blessed he
pretty face whenever she came among
them; and as for Molly-poor, hard
worked Molly!-she would have kisse'
the ground the little feet trod upon.
What wonder, then, that Dan How
ell. the young surveyor, who lived hal
a mile away, in the old stone cottage
and whom she had known from tn
verv first day of her arrival in Fern
vile (when he, then a tall, bright-face
boy of fifteen, passing her aunt's gate
and seeing the sad-looking little gil
in her black dress, standing by it, 81
lently offered her the prettiest whit
rabbit she had ever seen-a rabbit b
had been coaxing Abner Brown for
month past to sell him, and which no,
he parted with without anothe
thought, at sight of those lovely teal
full eyes and that sweet wistful face
what wonder, / say, that he ''thougf
of her by day, and dreamed of her b
night?''
But to 90 back. Dorothy came smi
ing into the kitchen, her lips and cheek
as red as the currants she carried; br
the smile faded away when she met he
aunt's irate gaze.
"Did you cut this loaf and leave
here in this hot room to dry to chip?
demanded Miss Cross; and then sh
added, emphatically, without waitin
for an answer: "But of course you die
No one else would have dared to do il
And how dared you, knowing that
never allow bread to be cut in m
house until it is at least day old?''
al am very sorry, aunt" bega
Dolly; "but he looked so hungryr
.sHer' screamed her aunt, regart
ing her with a look of horror. "Yo
gave it away then! And to he
A tramp. I've no doubt. who will com
back some night, rob the house, an
murder us all.
..Please. aunt" entreated the youn
girl, "don't be so angry. He wasn't
tramp indeed he wa'n'ti but han'