The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1881-10-13

anOGner STEADY look 1fOm those Rhada-
manthus-ike glasses. His gaze fell be-
fore hers.
"I hain't pizened none O. Jerry's crit
ters, nor set his barn afire, hev II"
You've pizened his peace O. mind.
You've worn him out with worry, till
he's walkin' ghost. set great store
by LOUSY Ann, do, and when see
her -gittin' that fit O. high-stericks last
night, all along O. your hardness and
scrinchin meanness, come as nigh
bilin' over as ever I did in my life
Your own brother, Cyrus Deane The
little, curly-headed chap that, like
enough, slept on the same pillow with
you many night. What would your
mother ha' thought, ef she'd ha' knowed
heow different you'd turn out?"
Cyrus Deane drew down his bushy
eyebrows, and gave an energetic kick to
small bowlder.
"Jerry's he'd ez good chance to git
along ez me. We started even. It's his
own lookout He hain't no hand to
manage-never was-never could git
fore handed in his born days |"
"The more reason why you ought to
be merciful. He hain't he'd. ez good
chance ez you. The year that your
barns was groanin' an runnin' over, his
wheat got the weevil, an his corn
ketched the mildew His cattle died,
an his tools was stole. He laid sick
with rheumatic fever, and he'd doctors
bill of $50 to pay. Do you call thet ez
good chance ez yours? LOUSY Ann
cleanin' an grubbin' never had the
fpst scrap o, hire hired help, 'eept for eleven ven
asysr asys wfn ss os rae Tas 5ran1sv paaa she
nuther!" casting keen glance toward
the wagon shed.
Cyrus mopped his beaded brow with
red cotton handkerchief, and took up
his hoe with determined air, as if to
end the conference.
"I 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-fallin behind instid of gittin' forrard.
He's younger'n be, he kin go West ="
Miss MahaIa took off her " shaker"
and shook out the cape, Strengthened 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 Ell He measured 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
didn't consider himself a hard man.
Honest 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 little
place would be his own. Would he do
it Miss Mahala's words were verjuice
to his conscience brief minute
nobler feelings strove with his greed OF
gain. then, dashing down the hoe:
"No! Jerry's got to look eout fer him
self. He's grown man-not baby!
Why carn't thet old vinegar face mind
her own business ?"
In the afternoon he drove to the next
town in his new buggy. A little fossy-
haired girl ran out from a nook in the
woods, and cried:
-man-takeme 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." 1t 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 alone?' he
asked.
"Pm Cissy Deane, and mamma lets
me go to the big rock by myself, cause
I know the way" She looked up and
gave little howl. "Let me out Oh,
let me out! You're bad, dreadful
man! You're the man that made my
papa cry
She scrambled down, and shaking her,
tiny fist at the buggy, stamped her
foot, and ran away.
A bitter look came into Cyrus Deane'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 not ]"
He whipped up his horse and drove on
rapidly. Fate seemed determined to
thrust the mortgage business in his face,
at every turn. He had two weeks be-
fore him. He could change his mind
whenever he chose. Should he do 1t ?
Cyrus Deane and his wife were eating
their early breakfast next morning, when
Miss Mahala gave short knock at the
kitchen-door, then, according to the pre-
vaiIing custom, opened it and walked In.
With a rather grim "good morning to
| Cyrus, and a stiffish nod to Mrs. Deane
| Number Two, who handed her a chair,
she proceeded at once to the business
that had brought her there.
"Heow much i'll 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 blackb'ry lot
fer?"
I "That's Jest the identikal question.
Sposin' I dew want to sell it, what will I
| sell it for? In other words, what ill you
! buy it for 2"
Cyrus Deane's little gray eyes twin
kled. His vulpine instincts scented a
bargain. He hemmed and hawed:
"Waal-now-comet to think ont, tn
amt much good in a blackbry lot. You
carn't keep the pesky boys off of it to
save yer life !"
| "Ef YOU couldn't scare 'em off, I dou't
know who could" said Miss Mahala,
with a snap. cts splendid land. You
could pillow 'em under and raise most
anvthin' on it. I hain't had much time
to bother with it. lately. SO it's laid
there, and laid there. Thurs one or two
ben askin' me bout it"
"Yaas-yaas!" said Cyrus, and hitched
in his chair.
Miss Mahala sat silent. She felt sure
of her man.
Cyrus pushed away his plate and
| moved back from the table. His wife
began to clear off tho dishes.
"Sposin' you struck party that
wanted it, heow much 'ud you take feI
it, did you say?"
ct didn't say. I asked how much
you'd give me for it."
Cyrus reached out his horny hand and
pulled splinter from the broom that