The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1881-10-20
ef she'd knowed heow different you'd

Cyrus Deane drew down his bushy
eyebrows, and gave an energetic kicI
to a small bowlder.
"Jerry's he'd ez good chance to gi
along ez me. We started even. It's hi;
own lookeout He hain't no hand tx
manage-neyer was-never could git for
handed in his born days!''
s'The more reason why you ought tx
be merciful. He hain't he'd ez good {
chance ez you. The year that your barnl
was groanin' an runnin' over, his whea
got the weevil, an his corn ketched th.
mildew. His cattle died, an his took
were stole. He laid sick with rheumatic
fever, and had doctors bill of 800 tx
pay. Do you call thet ez good chance
ez yours? Lousie Ann works ez hard ej
any woman cookin' an cIeanin' an
grubbin'-sn' never had the first SCRAP
O hired help, 'cept for eleven days wei
Cissy was q baby-an' she never gifts {
ride in bran new buggy, nuther," cast
ing keen glance toward the Wagon
shed.
Cyrus mopped his beaded brow with
red cotton handkerchief, and took ur
his hoe with a determined air, as if to
end the conference.
81 hain't been harf as hard on him ez
some folks would ha' been. I've gin him
time, and gin him time. till my patience
is clean tuckered eout, an he keeps a-fal.
lin behind instid of gettin' forrard. He's
younger'n 1 be, he kin go West!''
Miss Mahala took off her 'shaker, >
and shook out the cape, Strengthening
out the bow, and set it on her head again,
then said, in slow, measured tones:
'May the lord hev mercy On your soul,
Cyrus Deane! Eff He measures it eout
to you ez you do to other folks, you'd
hev precious little to be thankful for"
She walked slowly down the road, and
Cyrus went on with his hoeing. He
did't consider bimself hard man. Hon
est outwardly, he was, as Jerry had said,
but ''war to the knife to get his own. "
In two short weeks he could foreclose
the mortgage, and Jerry's little place
would be his own. Would he do it2
Miss Mahala's words were verjuice to
his conscience for brief minute nobler
feelings strove with his greed of gain,
then, dashing down the hoe:
''Nol Jerry's got to look eout fer him
self. He's grown man-not baby!
Why carn't thet old vinegar mind her
own business?',
In the afternoon he drove to the next
town in his new buggy. A little fossy-
woods, and cried:
ssMan-man-take me little ride, do,
please.
He reined up the horse and helped
the little creature in. Cyrus Deane had
one soft spot in his heart-it was for lit
tie tiny children. No prattling lips had
ever called him "father." It would have
been better for those he had to deal with
had it been otherwise.
'And whose little gal be you, pray,
out here in the woods alone2" he asked.
"I'm Cissy Deane, and mamma let's me
go to the big rock by myself, cause
know the way" She looked up and
gave little howl. ''Let me out! Oh,
let me out! You're bad, dreadful mani
You're the man that made my papa cry!''
She scrambled down, and shaking he1
tiny little fist at the buggy, stamped hel
foot, and ran away.
A bitter look came into Cyrus Deaue's
face. "My own brothers youngster-
an I never would ha' knowed her ef she
hadn't told me her name. She'll hate
me too, like as mott"
He whipped up his horse and drove on
rapidly. Fate seemed determined tc
thrust the mortgage business in his face,
at every turn. He had two weeks before
him. He could change his mind when,
ever he chose. Should he do it2
Cyrus Deane and his wife were eating
their early breakfast next morning, when
Miss Mahala gave short knock at the
door. then, according to the prevailing
custom, opened it and walked in. With
rather grim ''good morning" to Cyrus,
and stiffish nod to Mrs. Deane Num-
Der Two, who handed her a chair, she
proceeded at once to the business that had
brought her there.
"Heow much ill you give fer that big
blackberry lot o'mine, Cyrus Deane,
south of Anthony Woods place?"
Cyrus looked surprised. "Why, what
be you wantin' to sell that t,ackb'ry loi
fer2''
'That's just the identikal question.
Sposin' 1 dew want to sell it, what will
sell it for9 in other words, what i'll you
buy it for2"
Cyrus Deane's little gray eyes twin
kled. His vulpine instincts scented q
bargain. He hemmed and hawed:
"Waal-now-come to think ont, th
amt much good in blackb'ry lot. You
carn't keep the pesky boys off of it tc
save yer lifel"
"Ef you couldn't scare 'em off, don'i
know who could" said Miss Mahala
with snap. "It's splendid land. You
could plow 'em under and raise mos,
aaythin' on it. / hain't had much time
to bother with 1t. lately, so it's laid there
and laid there. Thurs one or two ber
askin' me bout it."
"Yaas-yaas!" saidCyrus, and hitehed
in his chair.
Miss Mahala sat silent. She felt sure
of her man.
Cyrus pushed away his plate and nlov
ed back from the table. His wife heear