The Penn's Grove record., 1882-02-04

head, with it's line of golden fringe.
Mrs. Ford understood.
$50 my grille has got asweetheart, y
she said.
A bright, eloquent, blushing look
from Jennie, but no words for the
kitchen door opened, ard with a glad
cry, Jennie sprang into her fathers
arms. 1t was pleasant to see the old
mans grim face break into smiles.
$50 you've come home at last, child"
"I'd have come home long ago, dear
father, but Aunt Elinor wouldn't let
me"
As Jennie sat down by the great
open fire place, her father looked her
over from head to foot. No n no.
ticed the look of his face as he turned
away. Jennie herself was very
thoughtful, and sat gazing m~editative-
ly into the open blaze, while her
mother made the tea, and toasted
bread on a pronged fork.
Mrs. Ford was one of the few that
are fond OF old fashions, and chung TO
the old-time way of doing things. She
had never been persuaded to have a
cooking stove, a modern bedstead, or
a clothes wringer.
All the f~ire-places at Wheatlands
were open, the bedateads were high
posted piled with beds filled wi h fifty
pounds of live goose feathers, sheets
white as snow and smelling of laven-
der, and patchwork quilts OF the most
elaborate designs.
Every carpet and rug in the house,
Mrs. Ford had made with her own
hands. She had, in use, china and
crockery which had been her mothers
and grandmother's. Nothing equaled,
In her estimation, their habits and
ways, and she had been suffered to
perpetuate them, though Jennie often
wished her mother would have a
cooking stove :" and her husband, on
a summers night, often escaped from
the smothering embraces of his feather
bed, and spent the night on the
chintz-covered lounge in the kitchen.
When Jennie had kissed her mother
and father goodnight, that evening,
and silently carried to her pillow the
problem of the mortgages foreclosure,
the father and mother sat, silent, be-
fore the red embers of the hearth.
The old mans elbows were upon his
knees, and his face In his hands. He
uttered agroan.
"As if it wasn't enough to have
things going the way they are" he
exclaimed, without having Jennie
come home with Der hair in bangs ~
"Why, father"
"What sense is there in frizzling
and frowseling her hair Owe her
forehead like that? It's the foolishest
thing in the world! / knew Elinor
would spoil her; I knew it from the
first !"
81 think it looks very pretty, father,
but"
ITO think a daughter of mine should
ever bang her hair !" groanes the poor
gloomy man, as he gsse, set his chair
back against the wall, and betook
himself d~isconsolately to bed.
II wonder if I'd better speak to Jen-
ME about her hair ?" unused Mrs.
Ford. 1t seems a pity. Those little
curls, just like tendrils on the grape
vines, make her forehead and eyes
look so pretty. 1 guess won't just
yet. 1t does seem to make father
dreadful cross-grained."
No complaint was made to Jennie
of her bangs. She came down the
next morning with the same fringe of
little, soft curls above her pretty
brows, but with a broad Bingham
apron tied over her neat print wrap
per; and she washed the breakfast
china, made brown bread and pump
kin pies, made up the plump feather
beds, and prepared dinner, as deity
as though she were In total ignorance
of the fashions.
Mrs. Ford was satisfied that Jennie
was not spoiled, if her father was not.
II Jennie had known of her fathers
d'sapproval, it would have been hard
to abandon those Objectionable bangs,
for some one else had been especially
pleased by Jennie's adoption of the
style.
Mr.. Chester CHILDBIRTH was very APP
preciative of nice effects in the toilet
of ladies, and at last reports, was still
undecided, as to whether the loose
tresses made the deep hinged, blue
eyes 90 lovely, oil the pretty eyes made
the little curls so charming, The
thought thrilled Jennie's heart every
time she looked in the little mirror,
and it would have been actual cruelty
to have deprived her of her bangs. MI.
CHILDBIRTH seemed so far away and
though she loved her home, it was
very bare of romance, and the refine
ments of the summer, which she had
found so c%ongenial.
Hasn't anything done well?" ask
ed Jennie, wiping the tea things with
her mother, ana referring again to the
mortgage.
"Nothing but the ounces, Jennie.
They have borne wonderfully this
year. Nearly two bushels apiece, and
there's fifty trees. But there isn't
much sale for ounces about here. 1
think I'd better put up enough to last
two years, and father will get what he
can for The rest of them"
Just here Jennie dropped the snowy
dish towel, and had nearly dropped a
china tes-cup but though her cheeks
were very red, she shut her lips tight,
and would not speak u word until she
was sure. SIZE only remarked, after a
little: