Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-03-19
,ers, nor set his barn afre, hev r."

little, curly-headed chap that, like
enough, slept on the same pillow with
you many night. What would your
mother ha' thought, eff she'd ha' knowed
heow different you'd turn out?'
Cyrus Deane drew down his bushy
eyebrows, and gave an energetic kick to
! small bowlder.
"Jerry's he'd ez good chance to git
| along ez me. We started even. It's his
own lookout He hain't no hand to
manage-never was-never could git
fore. handed in his born days"
"The more reason why you ought to
be merciful. He hain't he'd ez good
chance ez you. The year that your
barns was groanin' an runnin' over, his
wheat got the weevil, an his corn
ketched the mildew. His cattle died,
an his tools was stole. He laid sick
with rheumatic fever, and he'd doctors
bill of $50 to pay. Do you call tibet ez
good a chance ez yours? LOUSY Ann
works ez hard ez any woman-cookin' an
cleanin' an grubbin' an never had the
fust scrap O. hired help, 'cept for eleven
days wen Cissy was a baby-an' she
never gifts a ride in a bran-new buggy,
nuther!" casting keen glance toward
the wagon shed.
Cyrus mopped his beaded brow with
red cotton handkerchief, and took up
his hoe with determined air, as if to
end the conference.
ct hain't been harf as hard on him ez
some folks would ha' been. I've gin him
time, and gin him time, till my patience
is clean tuckered eout, an he keeps
a-fallin' behind instid Of gittin' forrard.
He's younger'n I be, he kin 60 West F."
Miss MahaIs took off her shaker, J"
and shook out the cape, Strengthened out
the bow, and set it en- her head again,
then said, in slow, measured tones
".May the Lord hev mercy on your
soul, Cyrus Deane Eff He measured it
eout to you ez you do to other folks,
you'd hev precious little to be thankful
for"
She walked slowly down the road, and
Cyrus went on with his hoeing. He
didn't consider himself a hard man.
Honest outwardly, he was, as Jerry had
said, but "war to the knife to get his
own" In two short weeks he could
foreclose the mortgage, and Jerry s little
place would be his own. Would he do
| it? Miss Mahala's words were veriuice
| to his conscience-for brief minute
nobler feelings strove with his greed of
gain, then, dashing down the hoe
"No! Jerry's got to look eout fer him
self He's grown man-not baby!
Why carn't thet old vinegar-face mind
her own business ?"
In the afternoon he drove to the next
town in his new buggy. A little fossy-
haired girl ran out from nook In the
woods, and cried:
-takem me little ride, do,
please"
He reined up the horse and helped
the little creature in. Cyrus Deane had
one soft spot in his heart-it was for lit
tie tiny children. No pratthng lips had
ever called him "father." 1t would
have been better for those he had to
deal with had it been otherwise.
"And whose little gal be you, pray,
out here in the woods alone?" he
asked.
"I'm Cissy Deane, and mamma lets
me go to the big rock by myself, cause
I know the way" She looked up and
gave little howl. "Let me out Oh,
let me out You're bad, dreadful
man ! You're the man that made my
papa CRY /"
She scrambled down, and shaking her,
tiny fist at the buggy, stamped her
foot, and ran away.
A bitter look came into Cyrus Deane's
face. "My own brothers youngster-
an / never would ha' knowed her eff
she hadn't told me her name. She'll
hate me too, like as not /"
He whipped up his horse and drove on
rapidly. Fate seemed determined to
thrust the mortgage business IN his face,
| at every turn. He had two weeks be-
fore him. He could change his mind
whenever he chose Should he do it?
Cyrus ,Deane and his wife we're eating
| their early breakfast next morning, when
Miss Mahala gave short knock at the
kitchen-do then, according to the pre-
vailing custom, opened it and walked in.
| With rather grim "good morning" to
| Cyrus, and stiffish nod to Mrs. Deane
| Number Two, who handed her q chair,
she proceeded at once to the business
that had brought her there.
"Eeow much Ill you give fer that
big blackberry lot O mine, Cyrus Deane,
south Of Anthony Woods placer"
Cyrus looked surprised. "Why, what
| be you wantin' to sell that blackb'ry lot
fer?"
"That's Jest the identikal question.
Sposin' I dew want to sell it, what will 1
sell it for? In other words, what Ill you
buy it for ?"
Cyrus Deane's little gray eyes twin
kled. His vulpine instincts scented a
bargain. He hemmed and hawed:
"Waal- come to think ont, tn
amt much good in blackb'ry lot. You
carn't keep the pesky boys off of it to
save yer life !"
"Ef you couldn't scare 'em off, [ don't
know who could" said Miss Mahala,
with a snap. Its splendid land. You
could pillow 'em under and raise most
anythin' on it. hain't had much time
to bother with it, lately, SO it's laid
there, and laid there. Thurs one or two
ben askin' me bout it"
"Yaas-yaasr said Cyrus, and hitched
in his chair.
Miss Mahala sat silent. She felt sure