The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1881-11-11
practical sort OF man, and never asked
me to do anything unreasonable.
6What If ha had ~ aaEni 1oro


love that will draw women through fire
and water. 1t makes them throw them
selves away on poor, shiftless men that
will never provide for them nor their
children, and they know it as well as
any one else does. It is the greatest
wonder to me why such senseless feel.
ing should ever have been created
Dora had bent low over her work to
hide her roguish smiles at her sisters
discourse; but at this point she fixed
her deep gray eyes on Prudence, not
smiling, but simply earnest. "Such
love brings happiness sometimes, / sup
pose, said Dora.
Next to never said Prudence, with
great decision. I'VE amt made to be
happy, and anything that's too good al.
ways leaves a bad taste in The mouth.
Comfort is bird III the hand, and you
don't gain anything by letting it fly on
the chance of happiness.
Did you ever know any one about
here, Prudence, that threw herself away
for love? 1t seems to me they won't
look at man unless he has house and
farm all ready for them"
"Thats where they're right" said
Prudence. You are rather given to
high-fying notions, and it's time you
found out that bread don't grow ready
buttered. Yes, I did know one girl,
who was pretty and smart and had no
end of chances to get married Ct think
my David courted her spell, but he
never would own it,, and she would have
that shiftless critter Joe Raymond, who
never could make one hand wash the
other. Even when she was a-dying she
pretended that she had been happy and
wouldn't have done no other way if she
had it to do over again."
Was she our Joe's mother?" asked
Dora quickly.
Yes, to be sure and when she died
we took him to bring up and work on
the farm. He's more than paid his
way but he's rolling stone like his
father, and won't never come to any
thing. I forgot to tell you-he's going
tomorrow"
Going tomorrow /" cried Dora, with
a great start. 81 thought his time
wasn't out for another MONTH"
Swell, it amt out rightly till he's 81;
but he was In such hurry to be off that
[ gave him the last MONTH"
Then silence fell upon them.
These two women had the same father
and mother, though score of years lay
between them. Prudence had been born
in the earl y married life of her parents,
when they were struggling with stony
New England farm and there was work
for even baby hands. The lines of duty
and patience were deep-graved in her
rugged face, which yet beamed with a
kindly common sense. But Dora had
come to her mother late in life, as an old
tree sometimes blossoms into loneliness
after every one has forgotten it. Her
little feet had walked in easy paths and
Prudence yearned over her like mother.
She sat now by the open fire, bending
her graceful head over some delicate
work that Prudence would never have
found time for; her red dress and the
Pickering freight made her a picture
too lovely for that dull room. "Pru-
dence," she said suddenly, "as this is
Joe's last night, I think I'll go down and
Say gOOd-Oy 10 MIN.
"You might call him up here"
No; think 1 will go myself"
81 believe l haven't ever told YOU,
Dora, how much you pleased me by civ.
ing up that childish way of going on
with him that you used to have. It did
very well for you to be fond of each
other when you we're little, but OF course
it is out of the question now."
1t might have been the red dress and
the fire light that brought such vivid
flush to Dora's cheek as she listened and
turned away. She ran lightly down.
stairs and opened the door of the great
farm Kitchen.
A young man sat by the dull fire, look
ing into it as one looks into the eyes of
an enemy before the fight-an overgrown
farmer-boy, in homemade clothes, with
nothing about him to fall in love with,
least Of all for the brilliant little figure
that stood waiting for him to look up.
He was too intent on his own thoughts
to notice her, till she went swiftly across
the room, and, taking his head between
her soft hands, turned his face up to
hers. "Joe, bad boy, were you going
away without letting me know"
The hard lines of his face softened and
frightened under her gaze till one would
not have known him for the same man.
81 thought l should not see you to,
night" he said.
You know better; you know I would
have crept through the key-hoIe for one
last little minute with you"
How long will you wait for me,
Dora ?"
Till you come back"
eff it were seven years, think how
long it would be-"
eff you loved me as you make be-
leve," said Dora, "you would not go
sway at all, but stay here till you coulC
build little house, and then we would
rough it together"
"No, little Dora, that is not my kind
of love; my mother tried that and she
lived a slaves life.
/ must go now, l must truly" said
Dora, as she felt herself locked in arms
that would not give way. eff I live
without you for seven years I shall be a
homely old maid, and you will not
thank me for waiting for YOU"
He put her away then and looked at
her curiously, as if he had never thought
of her prettiness before. "Do you know
what your name means?" he asked,
earnestly. II saw it in the paper that
Theodore means Gift of God;' and
you have been just that to me. If had
never seen you, should never have had
a notion above days work and a
nights sleep. I will write whenever
have any luck, and come home on New
Years eve, when 1 do come and if you
wear this red dress I shall know you
have waited for me-"
L think [ shall live to wear it when
you come home. if it is seven times sew
en- years, Joe for women are very hard
to kill, said Dora, slowly disappearing
from the kitchen.
What have you been doing all this
time? said Prudence, severely.
!" was only giving Joe some good
advice"
Well, hope he'll profit by it."
So do |, said Dora, heartily.
It's as easy to say seven years as one,
and we read OF Jacobs seven years serv-
ice for Rachel, which seemed but as
one day for the love that he bore her.
Rachel's feelings are not thought worthy
kO bo mentioned ~, L oI,- .--,..S IL r. L y