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

"I'm clean discouraged! asserted
Farmer Ford, coming into the house
one cold fall day, and sitting down
hard In a chair in the kitchen.
His wife, pairing pumpkins at a table
did not ask why.
81 expected we should do well this
year, but everything has gone wrong.
1t isn't the year for fruit, yet l
thought there would be a few apples,
which would have brought 8 good
price in the scarcity but there isn't
a barrel of apples in the whole or
chard. The potatoes are poor, the corn
blighted, and the rains spoiled the
wheat. / didn't get half the hay /
expected, on account of the early
drought. The horse is never going to
get we'll OF that lameness; the brindle
OK died, and my best COW is sick. The
pigs are fat, but pork has gone down
to nothing. My whole flock of seven
ty hers are melting, and hain't laid
an egg for a month. I've got to buy
grain for my stock, and corn is eighty
five cents a bushel. To crown all, the
frost took twenty-five bushels of un-
ripe grapes from me. If hat isn't
enough to discourage a man, when
foreclosure of the mortgage upon his
farm is close at hand, / don't what
isin
Mrs. Ford wiped her eyes.
"Cheer up, father! Jennie's com
ing home"
But ever the mention of his only
daughter could not dispel the good
mans objection and sense of trial.
He rose up, covered his bald head with
his old hat, and marched out of the
house.
Then Mrs. Ford wiped away an
other tear. keI little financial ven-
lures, too, had been unsuccessful.
The price for butter was unusually
low; the turkeys had gorged them
selves ON musty wheat, and been
found stretched l,feless under their
perch. She had spent all her spare
time, all summer, braiding two rugs
for the DOCTORS wife, aud the doctor
had moved away and left them on her
hands. There were no apples to dry,
and the pumpkins were rotting dread
fully.
Such are tie trials of farmers wives
quite f%requentl. but to have the
mortgage foreclose upon the old place,
where she had lived eve since she
was married-the dear old place,
where her children had been born,
and where she expected to end her
last earthly days-this was too much
and Mrs. Ford's apron went up, and a
great many tears fell among its tidy
folds.
Suddenly, there was the roll of a
yellow old s~tagecoach's heavy wheels
at the door, the banging down of a
trunk, and. a graceful girls form in
the doorway.
mother | you dear, darling old
mother! Why, what are you crying
for"
And Jennie Ford's blue eyes opened
wide upon the now smiling and de-
lighted, wrinkled face.
~ am not crying, Jennie, dear.
Why, how you have altered, child
an inch taller and-well, it's mother
that says it-so pretty! You hardly
look like Jennie, with these blue rib
bons, and that fringe of little curls
across your forehead"
"Aunt Elinor wanted my hair bang
ed, mother"
What, child ?"
Banged, mother dear. But never
mind my hair. You have been cry
ing, and / want to know what the
matter is."
Jennie, Invested Of her wraps, with
her shoulders buried in blue silk and
lace, was an ~apparition of love indeed,
to appear, tender and blooming, in the
old farmhouse kitchen.
A wealthy aunt, peculiar and COM
paratively unknown, had come to
Wheatlands the previous spring, ard
pleased by the sweet faced girl Of six
teen she had never before seen, borne
her away, for a summer, to a fashiopa-
BILE seaside resort. Another month
had been spent at her handsome city
residence; but finally Jennie had
come home.
81 suppose l was down-hearted,
Jennie. Father - fathers dreadful
down, about the way things are going.
The stock and the crops-well, as he
says everything seems to have gone
wrong this year and-and the mori-
gaze ~foieIosts the fist of January"
added Mrs. Ford, her face bending
over her again busy hands.
She looked up, at last, in the silence
that followed, and met Jennie's blue
eyes, grave enough.
"But you needn't fret, child. You
are young, and dare say old Wheat
lands is a dull enough place to you"
ats home, mother, and l love my
home. There is some n coming
next week-a-a gent)eman-who has
been very polite and kind + me. He
is rich and elegant, but | am not
ashamed of Wheatlands, - concluded