The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1882-05-13
DESTINY.

DESTINY.
On stormy March day fresh.faced young
girl was q am tempted to say "manfully"
"womanfully" making her way along the maiI
street Of New England factory village. a
bright darling face was here-one that said al
plainly as brown eyes, red lips and piquau
features could say: Here am. Let fat
send her worst. shall fghgtbe good fight.
The very curls on her temples, blowing thi!
way and that under her simple straw turban
looked fearless almost saucy, yet without any
suggestion of that hideous, straig hanging
modern crank of fashion termed "bang." She
wore neat waterproof suit suitable in length
and pepper. andsalt of hue though shrewc
physiognomist might have been willing to
wager that somewhere among her feminine
adjoining would be found q vivid dash OF scar
let. She carried her cotton umbrella wlth0u,
endangerlng peoples eyes, and appeared alto
gether business.like and selfsustained. A
passing stranger, glancing at her eager face
and quick gait, would think, THAT g,rl is IN
dead earnest"
She looked occasionally at the pictures
vases and other pretty trifles IN the shop win
dows, but without twlnge OF envy IN her
healthful soul. She was wont to say that she
could enjoy them four times day (excep,
when she carried her dinner without the
trouble of taking care of them. In short, she
seemed fully equipped tor possessing" in the
very best sense. She did stop, however, before
a confectloner's window where some tempting
oranges we're displayed, counted the contents
of a shabby little purse, then snapped the steel
clasp with determined shake of the head
"Nettie Randall, you're selfish coward" was
her mental comment as she walked resOlutely
onward.
Turning into quleter street, yet not too Tar
from the business part Of the village, she en-
tered small frame house by the door of
which was tackled modest tin sign lettered,
"Ladies Trimming Store. +. 81 A. Randall"
In the front windows hung few ribbons,
cheap laces Hamburg edgings, etc.-a most
unpretending establishment. AS Nellie closed
the door upon her dripping umbrella and the
general discomfort Of storm and fastthlckening
darkness outside, CHEEKY warmth and light
greeted her and another resh-faced, brown
eyed girl, year or two younger, looked up
with bright smile, from her seat behind the
counter, where she was swiftly and dexterous
ly drawing the brlstles through those indis.
pensable aids to civilization, tooth brushes.
"How's Destiny"" asked Nettie, IN mat
ter OF course way as she hung up her water
stove to dry. &.
Qn explanation, let 1t here be stated that
these two we're once singing that beautiful
poem which begins:
"Though the day of my destiny's over.
And the star OF my fate hath declined;"
tiny, nspIng cousin caught the melody, and
plped out: Though the day of my destiny's
'clined" "Destiny's 'clined" became thereaf
ter most appropriate expression, when the
"best laid schemes" seemed obstlnately bent
on "gangng agley.")
The answer to Nettie's question came very
promptly:
Awful Just fifteen cents IN the cash draw
er l haven't sold anything to-day but pa
per Of needles and yard of elastic"
"That means oatmeal for supper again,
suppose" said Nettie. 81 hate it." she added
savagely, her good humor oozing away at the
uninvitlng prospect. She had worked all day
for cut-down wages IN wooden factory, and
was wet tired and most unsentimentally hun
cry yyr,,,. ,.,,,s. ,o, y, .vou,, ,,o, e.. o,,
in Epictetus, said her sister, serenely.
Nettie glanced around at the hanging shell
of careiully.selected volumes, ancient and
modern, gathered for these two in years past
by a studlous fathers loving hand and judi
1--WE can't eat Greek philosophy. II we had
the original manuscripts, we might make
papyrus soup. I'll tell you what 1t is, Flo
she continued decidedly, as she put up her
feet to warm, something must happen pretty
soon. My pay won't amount to much this
month, and the next Installment to Mr.. Stone
falls due on the 18th, you know Besides the
coal is nearly gone"
"Oh, dearl Those payments to MIR. Stone
What do you suppose ever became of tina,
money, Nethe"
ave have asked ourselves that question foi
the last two years, Flo, and we don't come any
nearer to the solution of the riddle-whatever
we accomplish toward the solution of the
debt"
as it a debt WONDER" SAID Flo-"a legal
one, mean? know 1t is a moral one, and
shall not give up trying to pay 1t, as long AS |
can fill Il brush, or-mop kitchen floor, If II
comes to that. Our literary ventures don't
amount to anything. should rather write
stories and paint pictures than make brushes
I'm sure, and you would rather give dramatic
readings than be tied down to a factory bell
but we are evidently not headed for the temple
Of fame. and may as well give up"
"Famer reJoined Nettlc, "who cares for
the empty bubbley It's the money we want
l WISH we ndu OhCk Ill we ndu spent III post
age stamps on the miserable scribblings."
81 suppose IT'S true-as some editors tell US
in their polite little notes-that writers seldom
accomplish anything OF real literary merit till
they are at least thirty. We don't belong to
the fortunate group of phenomenal genluses, "
and Flo twltched away her finished brush
from the wise with quick, practiced move
ment, and began to spread the table for their
simple supper In the back part of the store
In cold weather they lived in this room as
much as possible to save fuel.
Nettie tossed her feet Enormously, and look
ed rather admiringly at her pretty hands lying
IDLY in her lap. Her work at the factory was
by no means detrimental to their exquisite
shapeliness.
"lf Mr.. Stone had been at home the nigh,
father brought the money for him from Ash
field, 1t would have been all right Or II faith
er hadn't had the stroke before morning"
Her lips quivered and her eyes filled at the
memory