The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1882-06-15
GRGNDPAPA'S OLD COAT.


GRGNDPAPA'S OLD COAT.
Only one silk and that not new
Dear me, dear me, II dreadful | /" and
Aunt Grayson caug 5he pretty
sssei eesaSs { g Ct ~ Rstsie sad
6emming ! FuMYs t6sI 4 window,
aWhat cah'tsbs iselpeS aass !be sn-
dured; there's no AsR fcr u apntie,"
10 Yes, there Was help ii T. ofied
the lady. TOSSING, the fboflica Ham her,
t'h you hadstakep my advice; but. You
must 90 and act like p simp1eton The
idea of girl Of your age giving away
her hard earnings, and then getting mar
ried without decent change Of clothing!
L declare It is too absurd And you are
| making such good match, tool Charles
| Montague comes of one. of the best
| families IN the country, and he'll be rich
one of these days, thoug he may be
poor at the start, and you, having as
good as thrown your money away, can
contribute nothing-not even able to
buy your own clothes, which every wife
ought to do. -
/ cat which time, let us hope, my
scanty wardrobe will be replenished,
said Kathie, merrily.
| Her aunt frowned CONTEMPORARY.
ssBut what are you to do now ?" she
went on. "What do you think Mrs.
Montague, of Oaklands, will think of
you, when she sees your outfit ?"
g Not one whit less than she thinks of
me to-day" answered Kathie, stoutly,
"or should be greatly mistaken in my
estimate Of her character"
| Mrs. Grayson laughed in scorn.
"You poor little simpletonl Wait
4 until you know the world as I know it,
and you'll change your tune. I tell you,
tKathie, appearance is everything. Your
Bridegroom himself will feel ashamed Of
you, when he sees you in the midst of
his stately Sisters, In the grand rooms of
Oakland. 1.
Kathie WINGED, but she answered
bravely: ssI don't think Charlie will
eyer, feel ashamed Of me, or I should
give him up to-day"
"Wait until he sees you in. your
shabby garments.
"Shabby garments |" said Kathie,
opening her bright brown eyes. "My
garments are not shabby, auntie. I am
quite sure never looked shabby in my
| whole life."
Mrs. Grayson glanced at the trim,
| graceful little figure. The close-ftting
blue merino was faultless the linen
| cuffs and collars were as spotless as
snow. Kathie was right; she never
looked shabby. Her garments seemed
to be part and parcel of herself, like
the glossy feathers and black tuft of a
canary. Yet these garments were usually
| made of all sorts of odds and ends, for
Kathie was poor, and obliged to be
rigidly economical. But she was pos
sessed of that tact, or talent, or what
ever it may becalled, which is more to q
woman than beauty or fortune; en-.
abing her by the mere skill of her will
ing fingers and artist soul, to make life,
her home, her rown person, " a thing of
beauty and Joy forever"
+ Mrs. Grayson, Kathie's well-to-do
aunt, with daughters of her own, who
trailed their silks in the dust and tum-
bled their laces and plumes and looked
dowdy all the while, regarded the trim
little figure by the window with half
admiring, half contemptuous smile.
You are rather apretty girl, Kathie, "
continued her aunt, "and you under
stand the art of getting yourself up in
good style. What you've got will do
well enough, perhaps, but there's 30 lit
tie of it. Your bridal outfit is shameful
What will you do for carriage dresses,
and dinner dresses, and evening dresses,
when you are Charles wife? Why,
when I was bride had everything a
round dozen of silks of every hue, pop
Inns, merinoes, tissues, and half dozen
sorts of wraps. I didn't 60 to James
Grayson bare of clothes, I tell you"
Kathie said nothing for moment,
but bent over her ruff1es, her bright
eyes dim with tears then answering,
"You may well say that, aunt; but is II
kind that you should tantalize me, when
you know that your father was rich
man, while mine was poor, and my uncle,
with all his promising to me, died leav.
ing me nothing"
:" Such a s1mpleton as you've been,
her aunt continued, "after toiling ano
teaching for your money, to turn round
and give it away 1 declare it puts me
out of temper to think of it.
'sWhat else could I do?" the girl
burst out, passionately. "Could SEE
poor Georges children turned into thu
street ?"
eAssuredly," answered the lady cody
"he could have rented house eas.
enough. In your place, I should have
kept my money in my pocket; but yol
wouldn't listen to my advice. You ar
sorry for it now, no doubt.
81 am not sorry. / would do tn
same thing again tomorrow. Pm glat
I had the money to pay poor GEORGE
debt, and I don't care if even I shoult
; look shabby"
Every well, I shall not try to care
either. I shan't help you; told yo7
that In the beginning can't afford il
! and even if I could I should not feel i
my duty. You would be headstronl
and senseless, you must bear the conse
, quenoes. I'll give you some lace TO
, your neck and sleeves, and you ma,
wear the garnet set of Josephine's.
l "I am perfectly aware of your not cal
4 ing, though you are my aunt; but
a don't want the lace, nor should anyth1n
3 induce me to wear borrowed garments
/ Besides I have some very fine lace whic
t belonged to my dear, dead mother, whic
8 I shall wear in remembrance of hel
o knowing how happy she would be, wer
s she alive and with me, at the event thf
. is soon to take place."
9 "Oh! very well don't snap my hea
Q of, I beg; you needn't wear then
, Much thanks one gets for trying to a