The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1881-11-11


II don't want anything, father; but
there is so little for me to do at home. +"
Nonsense! In my time, gals were
always full of business. Can't Won make
sheets and plllew-csse5 aid get ready to
be married +? Who knows but some
body'll ask We one of these days ?"
" I'd rather teach school, father"
WAL, wal, folks can't always have
their 'drathers in this world. I amt
willin'. and that's the end cn't:"
But this was hot the end ont, and
Dora easily obtained school. She de-
veloped a governing talent which
charmed the committeeman, and the
congenial labor in the compafiy Of little
children took her out of herself and in
fused new life into her hope deferred,
Every week she walked to the post
Office, three miles away, to ask for a
letter, going In With d bright flush In
either cheek, and coming out pale and
dull-eyed after the stab of disappoint-
ment. I wonder that people in the
country are so anxious to be Postmas-
tiers; if they only knew it, they ere ect-
ors In more tragedies than shy member
of Q theatrical stock company. Much
sealed happiness passes through their
hands; but they have to refuse many a
"Mariana in the Moated Grange .
weary women who reach hand out of
their dull lives for letter and draw it
back empty.
1t was far into the second year before
Joe's first letter came. It was surely a
fanciful and foolish thing for a school
mistress to do, but Dora carried it to
her own little room and put on the red
dress before she read Joe's letter.
Joe was working In the mines in Colo
RADIO. His luck had not yet come, in
nuggets at least, but hard work and
sober living were slowly giving him the
advantage over the other miners. He was
never SO well, and he loved her better
than all the world.
Dora lived on this letter for many
weeks, and she set "Colorado" for q
copy 80 often to her scholars that they
will write that word better than any other
to their dying day.
Letters came oftener as years drew on:
sometimes Joe was up in the world,
sometimes down; once his carefully
boarded gold was stolen from him, and
he had to begin all over again but this
was nothing to long illness in which a
friend wrote to Dora SO soon as Joe was
out Of danger. Then Dora envied the
doves their wings.
New Years day was the hardest of all
to bear. She could not help a strong
pressure of excitement when she put on
the red dress, which grew more and
more old-fashioned, and watched the
sun go down on the road which Joe must
travel when he should come home. The
next morning she fitted her shoulders
sadly to the burden of another year.
One young farmer after another found
his way tie the old farmhouse on Sun
day evenings, and Dora pushed them
down an inclined plane of discourage
ment SO gently that they scarcely knew
whether they had meant to court her or
not. It was not the least of her trials to
meet the entreaties of her mother end
the rough arguments of her father when
one or two more persistent suitors would
take nothing less than "no" for their
answer.
Dora could give no reason for re-
peated refusals to marry, only she loved
no one well enough, a reason which
would be all-sufficient if parents re-
manned Immortality young, but it loses
weight after sixty.
AS the seventh year drew to close,
Dora's heart beat light within her. Joe
had mentioned seven years, as if he
meant to come home then at any rate.
She wore out the first day of the "glad
New Year" with busy cares till late in
the afternoon. when an old man spent
with much walking stopped to rest him
self in the farmhouse kitchen. Pru-
dence bestirred herself to give him a
hearty luncheon, and, when he was
warmed and fed, he began to talk of his
travels, He had been to seek his fortune
oil over the West, and, never finding it,
had come back to die at home. He
mentioned Colorado and Denver, and
when Dora found herself alone with him
for moment. she said, "Did you ever
seq Joseph Raymond in Denver?"
"Joe Raymond? Oh yes knew, him
well lived with him nigh on to month.
His wife was real good cook; couldn't
be beat nowhere in them parts.
You say he was married?"
"To be sure; right smart teller,
and mighty fond of his wife. Women
are scarce out there"
Prudence came in, and the old man
went on his way all unconscious of the
great stone he had cast into the still
waters Of Dora's heart.
whats the matter ?" said Pru-
dence /; you're as white as a ghost"
Dora's only answer was to dart out of
the house and run, as for her life, down
the frozen orchard-path by which she
could gain upon and overtake this ter.
rible man. She might have said, with
"holy Herbert y
My thoughts are all case of knives,
Wounding my heart
With scattered smart
only misery must have time to crystal.
lie into memory before it takes the
form of poetry. She stood before the
old man at the turning, bareheaded and
breathless. elbow did the Joe Ray,
mond look that you lived with ?" gasped
Dora,
81 never said Joe Raymond, said
the old man peevishly; 81 said Jim
Raymond. They had big boy named
Joe, who" but Dora was eff again be-
fore he could finish his sentence.
She ran back through the orchard.
giving thanks with all her heart thai
she had not suffered herself to be per-.
suaded of Joe's faithlessness on one
hearing. Her feeling of grateful awe as
if she had escaped from sudden death
kept her from mourning much over the
passing away of this seventh anniversa-
ry of Joe's departure with no sign of his
return.
His letters had wholly ceased, and
there was nothing left for Dora but to
possess her soul with patience. When
another new year dawned upon her, she
put on the old red dress more from habit
than from any CLEAN of hope in her
heart, and did not care to look in the
glass. In the twilight she walked slow
ly down the orchard path and leaned on
the gate that opened into the road.
Suddenly man sprang out from be-
hind the wall. Theodore, my gift OF
God 7" he said; and Dora, though she
recognized no mark of the lover who had