The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1882-10-12
Miss Britman's Last Lesson.

Zone, two, three, four! One, two,
three, four y
Itwas dreary and monotonous enough
sitting all day in that cheerless room
beside the tuneless piano, giving lessons
to dull children, and Margaret Britman
heaved sigh OF relief after. The last
pupil departed.
After sitting still for few minutes.
Just to realize that her work for the
day was over, she stood up, closed the
piano, put away the ragged music, and
busted herself tidying the room. 1t
was little any one could do to make the
gloomy apartment bright or CHEEKY, but
what little lay in her power Miss Brit
man did against the coming home of
Dot.
The round table was pulled in front
of the fire, and the frugal tea set out
with good deal of show and very lit
tie substance. Miss Britman knew
how to make the most of the sSiitary
muffin Dot enjoyed so, and the tiny pot
-fe,ree.,7atse.., .,er s.slH Ike am island
in an ocean of china plate. The ma
jolica teapot was hidden under coy
crewel, embroidered in the highest OF
art patterns; the spoons and forks were
silver in the last stage of attenuation,
and the cloth, though white and fine,
was darned out of all identity of the
original pattern.
The few bright little water colors on
the walls but made the darkness of the
drab paper more visible, and no ar
rangement of the scanty furniture
could disguise the fact that the walls
were hopelessly crooked; still, in spite
of disadvantages there was something
about the little room that struck one
on first entering. Perhaps it was the
air of refinement struggling with the
aggressive poverty; perhaps it was the
pale, patient face of Margaret Brit
man, with its frame of prematurely
gray hair and meek, sorrowful eyes.
Very slowly she moved about, for
she was weary, and her thoughts were
heavy, for she was anxious about Dot
She had been out as daily governeSs
for whole year, but her salary was
small and her wants seemed to increase
out of all proportion to her earnings,
Boots and gloves wore out, hats and
gowns got shabby in frightfully short
time; and Miss Britman felt that she
could not relax single effort Ior spare
herself a single monOtonous lesson, for
Dots wants had to be supplied some
how.
Just at five o'clock she come upstairs,
singing lightly:
Duc VI d IOSo LII uSI DOuuet, ilu Ou. ouS
looked sweet
AS the little pink flower that grows in the
wheat"
"She wouldn't look sweet if she had
to be out in such ghastly weather as
this, would she, auntie, darling?" and
Dot kissed Miss Britman energetically
on both cheeks. "There! what a heart
less thing 1 am to come near you all
dank and foggy. My hair is perfectly
limp" and she pushed back mass of
golden waves from her forehead.
"Take off your things, dear, and have
some hot tea. Here are your slippers,
all nice and warm"
"Thanks, dearie. Oh, it is nice to
get indoors, if you could only imagine
what it's like outside, auntie. Streets
three inches leep in liquid glue, fog
thick enough to hide nail in and hang
your ulster on"
"Dot! Miss Brltman lnterposed
mildly.
"Fact, auntie. I was really bewil-
dered at Regent Circus, and had to
throw myself on the mercy of a police
man; then an obsequious young man
followed me all down Oxford street
and kept bobbing his umbrella against
mine"
"oh, my darling, that you should