The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1881-10-13
NUMBER %.
"Why don't you hold on tew it, then ?"

y
asked Cyrus, quickly.
"Because I'd ruther sell it now," and
Miss Mahala snapped the clasp OF her
old-fashioned reticule hanging on her
arm.
'I couldn't give 5000 fer it, no way at
all. Would you take $3.50 p
'Call it $175 and It's bargain. John
Haley 'ud jump at it ef he could git it at
that price,
Cyrus threw down the broom splinter
and reached for another.
Remember, in few years you may
git $500 for it !'
81 mought-and then agin mought-
ent," said Cyrus, then, suddenly slap
ping his knee, "Wall-call it trade at
$175! Do ye want it all to-day, cash
down?"
'sI don't want any cash at all. I'll
give you deed O. the lot an $125 in
cash beside, eff you'll trade me-"
The conclusion of her sentence had the
effect of an electric shock on her audit
or.
Thun-you don't mean it What
in kingdom be you thinkin' of, to take
hole O sech resky piece O. prcputty
ez that? %
"I hain't afeard O. the resk," said
Miss Mahala, drawing forth a roll of
greenbacks from her reticule.
The bargain was made. They went
to the Squire's to have deed made out,
and, as Miss Mahala's stiff, straight fig
ure disappeared down the road, crafty
smile crept over Cyrus Deane's face, and
he slowly CALCULATED
"Of-all-the- -tarna1- -fools-on the
face of the airth-the tarnalest is wom-
an-when she sets eout to tranzact biz
ness ~
A few hours later Miss Mahala stepped
softly across the threshold of Jerry
Deane's home.
"I hain't forgot that this is Cissy's
birthday. I've fetched her little pres
ent," setting a plate on the table:
'''Tain't g much to brag Of. only loaf O
lection cake, but Timothy Meadowses
wife (she was Liza Blynn) used to low
that I was the beatenest hand at lection
cake that she ever see. I don't say it to
boast. Go on with your dinner. I've
ct mine"
She gave Cissy loving hug, and
helped herself to a chair, receiving Mrs.
Deane's thanks with "Sho, faint
nuthin to speak of-only 1 thought I'd
jest like to celebrate. Cissy's perticler
pet O. mine, you know"
After a pause, she continued "By
the way, LOUSY Ann, you'd better put
it on another platter. It's ben on
that one SO long it's all got sweated
down."
As Mrs. Deane lifted it she discovered
a folded paper underneath. "What's
this ?'' she exclaimed, in surprise.
"Jest open it an see," said Miss Ma
hala, "Didn't I tell you I wanted to
celebrate p and the rhadamanthus
glasses grew suspiciously cloudy.
"Jerryl Oh, Jerry! It's the mort
gage! How ever did you get hold of it,
Miss Mahala ?"
"That's my affair."" said Miss Mahala.
"The only difference is that you kin
pay it to me instid O Cyrus-an' you
kin take your own time to it, Jerry. I
know what kind O stuff LOUSY AIMS
made of. She'd work herself to a shad-
der to git it paid off, eff I'd let her.
But I tell you, once for ali, I don't CAL
late tew."
Years later, when, in the inexorable
retribution of events, Cyrus Deane, by
peculiar succession of calamities, was
rendered homeless and ruined man, it
was his brothers roof that sheltered him
and hist was his brothers hand that
bestowed the wherewithal to start anew
it was his brothers hope and courage
that warded off despair. and saved him
from suicidal grave. More than this
it was his brothers voice that turned
him, late though it was, from the paths OF
greed-his brothers influence that
sowed in the long-neglected garden OF
his soul the seeds that make for loving
kindness, peace and goodwill to men.
He lives to-day-a childless man still
but every youngster in the village calls
him "Uncle Cyrus" and no man or
woman is afraid to seek favor at his
hands. Springfield Republican.