The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1881-09-17

from rouge as she tossed her head AMI
muttered various uneouFteous remarks i
regard 10 Amy Egbert and her beau
Uncle Abel lsldthe hat Q while longer
quite patiently, but at length despaired Q
the interview being ended, so he coughet
and then said;
q good deal. Betsey's worth It, amt she
Johng"
John needn't have started 90, or sale
"very," which wasn't u sensible answer a
all; but Uncle Abel laughed a little to him
sell, and said softly, "0h, boys will bt
boysp and he WINS Obliged to tell Miss Eg,
bert the direction over twice.
Outside the door John turned 10 leave
his uncle, and looked at him as shy as q
girl, rs he said: ats all right, Uncle Abel.
You've found u new bonnet and I've found
an old, old friend"
Uncle Abel held his hands fast, and
looking u moment without speaking in the
the young mans eyes, said: Shes .
motherless girl, John"
"Uncle AbelW and John turned angrily
away, or would have done so il the detain-
ing hand had not held him. "Look here,
my boy, | mean nc otfense. None Of my
blood turns villains" he added proudly
'but you see she's young and purity, and
%forlorn, and may be II you see too much Of
her she might get to thinkin' more OF you
than would be good for her, and II you amt
in earnest, Iguess it would break her heart.
Shake hands with your uncle, my boy, /
mean no harm but | promised Liza when
she was on her dying bed that | wonld
allus try to give you good advice, and the
last words almost that she spoke, says she,
Abel, watch over my boy"
"My dear, kind uncle, l thank you-in-
deed l debut | could not bear 10 think
that you should misjudge me, l knew
Amy long ago, when her parents were both
living, and she had all that wealth could
give, l loved her then in q quiet way, but
/ was too poor to tell her 80. Then Glme
reverses and death, and in her poverty and
pride the girl hid herself from me absolute
ly until now. She tried to earn her bread
by her accomplishments, but failed, and
took this means to do so. Now, II | can
win, her for my wife | shall bring Mrs.
John Dare to sec you some fine day this
summer-may |, Uncle Abelw
"Wa'al wR'al, il things don't turn out
queer!" soliloquized Uncle Abel, home.
ward bound, with a handbook placed on the
seat before him. ITO think how near |
come to gcttin' one Of them gypsies for
Betsey. Why, she would have laughed n
week about Il. And then to think that
painted piCtur' OF u girl was making game
OF me all that while, And then the other
one taking the trouble to tell u stupid fel.
low like me what was the right thing to
buy. guess sho would make u John q
good wife; and after Betsey and me has
passed away there'll bo a nice bit OF prop
erty coming to John, and that'll help him
on"
How pleasant Aunt Betsey was whenthe
old man gave her the new bonnet. How
fairand young she looked in the fresh rib
bons and soft blonde around her face. And
how she laughed at the idea Of wearing
zone ofthem dish covers on her head"
Just when tho country was In It's June
glory John Dare brought his bride to the
farmhouse where he had spent so many
childish hours, and he led her to the old
familiar spots, But as long as astraw and
may endure 10 keep them both in
mind how John Dare found his wife, they
tell the story Of the time when Uncle Abel
Aunt Betsey'S bonnet.