Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1881-10-08
MRS. PENNY'S MISTAKES.
A STORY.

| CHURCH browning the opposite bank was ar
| ivy-ciad, gray stone wall, behind which two
solemn. slumbrous yews kept sleepy watch OF
their theological brothers in the churchyard
and behind the yews, also solidly built Of the
gray stone with its mulhOned windows, wa
Elmholt House, the residence Of no lesf
a parsonage than Mrs. Penny, who now
sits with sort Of blue woollen antimacassal
over her plentiful frowsy irOn-gray ringlets
| deeply immersed in political pamphlet. The
room is barely and somewhat anonymously
furnished. An old-fashioned grand piano, Of
| which the legs and rather rich carvings had al
one time been gilt occupies one corner of the
room; in another stands a harp, whose better
days belonged to the years when George the
Third was king; and other articles of furniture
bear the same impress of faded gentility. Mixed
with these are homely uncushiOned Windsor
chairs: plain deal table, scantily covered by q
threadbare common cloth: and other furniture
not quite too far gone to be rejected from the
kitchen OF house where the exchequer is very
| limited.
| Mrs. Pennys studies were interrupted by a
loud but not unkindly voice outside
| Put 1t down, tell zee. won't haze thee do
| it."
With snort. Mrs. Penny tossed down herpoli-
tics and strobe out with masculine tread.
| Let the boy alone, Penny" said she, 81
won't have you interfere with him."
Il tell 'ee," said Mr.. Penny, for it was he. ''he
shant fling stones at the jenny-wrens. They be
GodamOighty's birds"
Mr.. Penny was a hale-looking old man, rather
forid, with wiry-gray beard and mustache, and
| somewhat bowed in figure. He wore CATERS,
corduroy breeches, and a drab coat with brass
buttons, which looked as though it had formed
part OF some discarded livery.
| The boy who was the subject of the threatened
alteration stood irresolute, with the stone in
| his hand and his eye on the bush where the
jenny-wren had disappeared. Just in the nick
OF time blackbird started out, and that the
| stone might not be wasted he hurled it at the
golden billed lover of cherries, and then ran of
| laughing.
GAY, ay," said Mr.. Penny. "Dang the black
birds Hull at they if thee likes"
Mrs. Penny pushed her blue antimacassar a
little more on one side, hitched up her dress in
nautical fashion, and retired to pursue the inter-
| rupted consideration of wOmans rights.
| She was lady Of good birth, respectable edu-
cation and fairly well endowed with those
''good gifts" of which Sir Hugh Evans had so
high an appreciation. She had been left an or
phan before she was out of her teens, and having
always very strong opinions as to wOmans
ability to do anything that men could dO-and
| do it better tOO-with a marked partially for a
country life and for independence, it was not
| long after she became her own mistress that she
| took into her own hands the farm on which Elm
holt House stood, and began to manage it on
strictly original principles, although she cOnde-
scended to dip into Virgil and Columella for a
| hint sometimes.
The neighbors occasionally made merry at her
expense when she committed more eggregious
| mistake than usual, but she bore such lest as
reached herear with imperturbable good humor;
for. without having any of his morbid sensitive
ness, she rivalled poor Hayden in sublime con.
| tempt for criticism.
| There was an element Of practically in her
| nature, however, which led her at times to con-
| template the necessity of considering her ways.
| Penny occupied the nominal position of
| steward on the farm, but Miss Gurteen was too
much of an autOcrat to admit of this position
being more than normal. His advice she by no
means felt bound to follow, though she did not
prohibit it. He had, on one occasion, urged the
| necessity of having more sheep on the farm, and
| as the suggestion seemed to her reasonable she
purchased small but beautiful flock on what
| she thought to be favorable terms.
well, Penny, what do you think of the
Sheep she asked. after he had returned from
Inspecting them.
Penny, whose face was unusually red and
rigid in the lines of it, opened his lips to reply
and loud laugh, which he had been at much
pains to suppress, took the opportunity to
escape
" Have you lost your senses, man." said Miss
Gurteeh angrily, "that you behave in that way
before me!"
81 beg pardon, Miss" he said, recovering his
gravity with an effort that nearly checked him,
II couldn't help it."
"Penny, you're great baby" said his mis-
tress; "that's what you are. And now about
the sheep"
"Why, lor' bless you, miss"
He stopped suddenly, grew purple in the
| face, resOiutely compressed his mouth, turned
| his head, and burst into an uncomfortable roar
| of laughter
Miss Gurteen looked on with amazement.
When the paroxysm was over, she said severely:
Penny, you've been taking too much cider ="
81 haven had a drop O. zider sin'-eyer so
long," said he, substituting an indefinite phrase,
as it flashed upon him that he had Just refreshed
himself with cup in the kitchen. ''But they
| sheep-they be all rams"
Some time after this, Miss Gurteen who had
been meditating much said:
penny, I've been thinking about those sheep.
/ shall always be making mistakes"
Like enough, MISS" said he with all the
| gravity he could command.
| II can only see one way to keep clear of
them," she went on. II shall have to marry
you"
Penny grinned from ear to ear.
Ion. man" she said petulantly, "dOnt grin
like that. 1t makes me sick. What do you say
to it?"
"Well, miss" said he 'ff you be willin' 1
And with that brief wooing Miss Gurteen
became Mrs. Penny. The relations between the
pair were scarcely altered. She remains auto
| ard with but little increased responsibility. He
was placid and Obedient, and their life was happy
enough. In the course of time a son and heir
was born-the young malignant whom he found
casting stones at the jenny-wrens, then about
fourteen years Of age, plump, well-grown,
affectiOnate boy.
Mrs. Penny had from his birth destined him
for the church, the living of Elmholt being in
her gift, and the lad, with placidity which
would have done no dscredit to his father.
acquiesced in the destiny. Not that he felt any
special vocation for that sacred Office, Of which
he would even the young scapegrace!) with
considerable humOr make fun when he made his
way into the kitchen, and extemporized a pulpit
with couple of chairs, and a surplice with
tabiecloth, to the infinite merriment Of the
servants.
The proclivity Of the boy for finding compan
ionship in the kitchen was Mrs. Penny's greatest
trouble. She had been at infinite pains to make
him understand that he was gentleman. and
must avoid slow company" such as that Afforded
| by the servants and-his father. That "Penny"
| should prefer to sit in the kitchen smoking his
! pipe and chatting with the laborers after his
days work, was natural and right; he belonged
to ''that class of peoples" but her son was ex-
pected to keep state with her in the parlOr, or
| in dignifed promenade up and down the fl
bert walk. Gus opposed to this arrangement a
passive resistance. When caught and marched
of with Mrs. Penny's hand in his collar, he
made no complaint, took his book or his pencil,