The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1882-08-12
SELECTED STORY
Destiny,

Young girl was VI am tempted TO say man
fully "Womanly" making her way along
the main street of a New England factory
village. a bright daring face was hers
one That said, as plainly as brown eyes, red
lips and piquant features could say: Here
l am. Let fate send her worst L shall
fight the good fight" The very curls on her
temples, blowing this way and that, under
her simple straw turbau, looked fearless,
almost saucy, yet without any Suggestion
of that hideous, straight hanging, modern
crank of fashion termed "Dang. she
wore neat waterproof SUIT, sensible IN
length, and pepper-and-salt OF hue, though
a shrewd physi0gomlst might have been Will
ing fo wager that somewhere among her FEM
mime adornings would be found vivid dash
of scarlet She carried her cotton umbrella
without endangering peoples eyes, and ap-
peared altogether business-ike and self-sus-
tained, A passing stranger, glancing 1t her
eager face and quick gait, would think,
"That girl is in dead earnest"
She looked occasionally at the pictures,
vases and other pretty trifes i'll the shop win
dows, but without twinge of envy i'll heI
healthful soul. She was wont TO say that
she could enjoy them four times a day lex
cept when she carried her dinner) without
the trouble of taking care of them. In short,
she seemed fully equipped for possessing"
in the very best sense. She did stop,
however, before a confectioners window
where some tempting oranges were display
ed, counting the contents of shabby little
purse, then snapped the steel clasp with a
determined shake of the head. "Nettie Ran
dali, YOU re a selfish coward" was her men,
tai comment as she walked resolutely on.
Turning into quiet street, yet not too
far from the business center of the village,
she entered a small frame house by the door
of which was tackled modest tin sign let
tered, Ladies' Trimming Store, L. q A.
Randall" In the front windows hung a
few ribbons, cheap laces, Hamburg edgings,
etc.-a most unpretending establishment.
As Nettie closed the door upon her dripping
umbrella and the general discomfort of a
storm and fast thickening darkness ontside,
CHEEKY warmth and light greeted her, and
another fresh faced, brown eyed girl year
or two younger, looked up with bright
smile from her seat behind the counter,
where she was swiftly and dexterously draw
ing the bristles through those indispensable
aids to civilization-tooth brushes.
CLOVIS 'Destiny?" asked Nettie, in a
matter-of-course way, as she hung up her
outer waterproof and pushed her overshoes
under the stove to dry.
In explanation, let it be here stated that
these two were once singing that beautiful
poem, which begins:-
''Though the day of my destiny's over,
And the star of my fate has declined
tiny, lisping cousin caught the melody, and
piped out: "Though the day of my destiny's
'clined." 'Destiny's 'clined" became there
after a most appropriate expression, when
the 'best laid schemes" seemed obstinately
bent on ''ganging agley."
The answer to Nettie's question came
promptly:
awful Just Is cents in the cash drawer!
l haven't sold anything to-day but paper
of needles and yard of elastic"
"That means oatmeal for supper again, L
suppose, said Nettie. II hate il" she added
sayagely, her good humor oozing away at
the uninviting prospect. She had been work
ing all day for ''cut-down" wages, in wool
en- factory, and was wet, tired and most I'M
sentimentally hungry.
"That's because you haven't got far
enough in !Epictetus," said her sister, Sc
fsnely.
Netlie glanced around at the hanging shelf
of carefully selected volumes, ancient and
modern, gathered for these two, in years
past, by a studious fathers loving hand and
judicious brain.
1--WE can't eat Greek philosophy. If we
had the original manuscripts, we might
make papyrus soup. I'll tell you what it is,
Flo" she continued decidedly, as she put
her feet up to warm, something must hap
pen pretty soon. My pay won't amount to
much this month, and the next lnstallment
to Mr.. Stone falls due on the 18th, you
know Besides, the coal is nearly all
gone"
nOh, dearl Those payments to Mr.. Stone!
What do you suppose ever became OF that
money, Nettie?'
I'VE have asked ourselves that question
for the last two years, Flo, and we don't
come any nearer to the solution of the riddle
whatever we accomplish toward the solu-
ton of the debt
''Is it debt, WONDER" said Flo-"a le-
gal one l mean? | know it is moral one,
and shall not give IN. trying To nay II as
long as can I'LL brush or-mOp Kitchen
floor, if it comes to that. Our literary ven
lures don't amount to anything l should
rather write stories and paint pictures than
make brushes, Pm sure, and you would
rather give dramatic readings than be tied
down to factory bell-but we are evidently
not headed for the temple of fame, and
may as well give up"
"Famer' rejoined Nettie, ''who cares for
the empty bebble? It's the money we want
wish we had back all we have spent
in postage stamps on the miserable scrib-
lings."
ct suppose it's true las some editors tell
us, in their polite little notes. that writers
seldom accomplish ything of real literary
merit till they are at least thirty. We don
belong to the fortunate group of phenome-
nal geniuses," and Flo twitched away her
finished brush from the wise, with quick,
practiced movement, and began to spread
the table for their simple supper, in the back
part of the store. In cold weather they l1v-
ed in this room as much as possible, to save
fuel.
Nettie toasted her feet luXuriously, and
looked rather admiringly at her pretty hands
lying Idly in her lap. Her work at the fac
tory was by no means detrimental to their
shapeliness.
eff Mr.. Stone had only been at home the
night father brought the money for him
from Ashield, it would have been all right.
Or if father hadn't had the stroke before
morning." Her lips quivered and her eyes
filed at the memory.
"Nettie,' said Flo solemnly, as she cut
the rye loaf, 1--WE are sure that Mr.. Sackett
is an honest man, and he never would have
said that he sent the money by father II 1t
hadn't been true"
'.Why do you emphasize Mr.. Sackett SO
strongly? Don't you suppose Mr.. Stone IS
honest too?"
ST don't know anything about it," said
Flo. People can't always help their sus-
picions. Perhaps he was at home that
night"
Nettie laughed incredulously.
''Nonsense! Don't you suppose people
would have found him out before this if he
was rascal? l don't think myself he's
very amiable. Father very likely put the
money 10 such a safe place till morning,
that nobody will ever find it, unless the old
homestead should be pulled down or struck
by lightning, and then it will probably. be
discovered in some mysterious Granny Of the
floors or walls. Secrets come to light in
strange ways, sometimes"
II know one thing" said Flo resoutely,
'you and I are going to pay back that mon
ey, Nettie Tor the remainder, seeing that Mr..
Stone took the very house from over our
heads), if we have TO live on dry bread and
oatmeal for twenty years"
(Ah, how easy is prospective heroism at
sixteenD
tsWe shall be almost old women at that
time, and cross and ugly, as like as not,
said Nettie, taking discontinued bite at
her BUTTERFLIES bread. Despite her buoyant
demeanor on the street. she was more sub
iect to ups and downs than Flo.
''We needn't be cross and ugly" answered
Flo, carefully measuring out her share OF
milk from the tiny pitcher. 81 hope the
lamp won't smoke again tonight How nice
1t would be to have new burner"
A short, bobbilg figure, in an immense
rubber cloak, with an umbrella in one hand,