The Penn's Grove record., 1883-11-03
PENIS GROVE, n. j., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1888.

trees after b rising OF the yellow
moon. Beyond all these attraction:
for Debby there was one yet more
powerful; young Mr.. Thing-Hmau
Thing--was TO be there. Now Del
was is; and to her thinking. Hiram
was an interesting youth.
In fact, everybody had a good word
for Mr.. Thing. He had a lovely farm,
to begin with. His sheep sheared 1(
pounds to the fleece; his wheat averaged
30 bushels to the acre. He had a nice
house; and since his mothers death
| only his crippled little sister Jessy tc
take care of it. 1t was plain to all the
gossips in the country that he needed q
wife. And all the girls liked him.
Alice Preston, with her bright black
eyes, Betty Browning, who could turn
out such a loaf of bread as couldn't be
| equalled in Perry county; Christy
Wicker, the shy Swiss girl; they could
all be casting a line in Big-Muddy anC
smiling on Hiram Thing. Deb's very
existence would be forgotten-so Del
| thought-unless she should be there in
the white dress with the futed ruffles
She sat on the porch looking up to
the sweet silent stars and thought il
over. In the sitling-room her father
dozed in his chair, with Il newspaper
over his face to keep off the night
moths and the stray flies that were
sleepily sticking to the ceiling; hel
mother nodded over Ellis" ~half-darned
stocking. The work for the day was
done. Nothing between Deb and her
| conselene.
She sat there so long, and vas 80 still
that finally her mother reused herself
to call, "Why, Debby, child why don't
| you come in? Have your wits gone a
| wool-gatherin'2"
That's just it, motherl" cried Deb,
with a laugh, though she brushed
something warm from her eyes as she
spoke. 'l've just about concluded to
give up the picnic and go to the wool
pickin'."
"Debby Hornish! L thought your
heart was plumb set on the picnic"
$50 l thought myself; but it's a little
more set ON helpin' Mis- Manly git her
wool out. She is such a shif'less little
c%ritterl An it'll be. a real misfortune
for her if she don't sell her wool for a
good price. So I'll just go along and
bear my bob with the rest of you. And
if you don't mind, mother, I'll take
over the cakes and things l baked for
the picnic.'
chats a good plan, honey, for L
reckon she won't have much of a din
ner.n
by "sun.up' the next morning Deb
and her mother were off. AS they
reached Mis- Manly's gate, a buggy
whirled upin a cloud Of dust. A voice
called, "Debl Debby Hornishln
tsWelll wellln cried Mrs. Hernish, "if
there amt Hiram and Jessy Thingl"
"Why amt you on your way to the
picnic, Deb? cried the young girl in the
buggy.
"Ohl you know wool-pickin' is such
fun,n said Deb, with a droll look, II
couldn't resist COMM over and lendfn'
a hand.n
"Well, you girls are crazy" said Mr..
Thing, jumpin'out of the buggy; there's
Jessy, nothin' would do but that she
must come to the wool-pickin,.n
"That's natural enough, brother. /
never did want to go to the picnic
much. What could 1 do on my crutches
amongst a lot o. lively young folks. L
should just a. been a drag ON you.
But / can pick wool with anybody, so
here l am. It's different, however,
with Deb"
"Yes, indeed,n cried Mr.. Thing,
eagerly, 'and now, Miss Deb, do let
me persuade you to change your mind.
You see | haven't any company now
that sis has deserted me. III be proud
if you'll let me drive you to the picnic,
and keep company with you to-day"
Poor Debl how handsome he looked
as he stood there twisting his fingers in
the horses name. Tall and slim, his
eyes as blue as his calico shirt, and
dancing with fun under his wide straw
hat. How nice, this warm day, to
drive along the waving wheat-felds,
meeting the breeze as it rntled the
young corn; to fish under the shade of
a cottonwood tree. Much, much bet
ter than to sit in a stuffy room, picking
brambles out of wool.
"Do co." urged Jessy; ''you know
I'm as good as two at wool-pickln'."
Whether Mr.. Things smile was too
confident or Deb's own heart ~reproached
her, l know not, but at any rate she
said resolutely:
sI1l run a race with you in WOOL
pickin', Jessy Thing, an that's all there
is of that"
In the widow Manly's house there
were two rooms. One the kitchen,
dining and company" room, with two
beds in the corner, the other a sleeping
room for the widow and her children.
1t was here, too, that she retired to
weep over her miSeries, a solace neces-
sary only too often.
BY the time they had fairly got to
work four more were added TO the
Observation-Disclosures all too old to care
for picnics. Grandma Bixby,n took
the lead; she was as spry as a girl and
said she was 100 years old. Mrs. Hig-
gins, noted for having survived three
c~ongestive chills; Mrs. Harte, doubled
up with the rheumatism; and a funny
little old woman who had Is children
and was nicknamed Dame Thumb"
by her boys, made up the party. A
great heap of wool was piled up in the
middle of the floor. They sat around
il and peeped at each other yer the top
of the pile as people do at dinner parties
over the epergne.
'I'm afraid, ladies, that my wool is
dreadful dirty" said the widow Manly,
with a depressed air.
"Why, Mrs. Manly" cried Jessy
Thing, gayly. ''what would you do IL
your sheep were like some / read of the
other day, out in Colorado9 Why, in
the time of drought their feeces get
full of dust; then the wind blows the
grass seeds into the wool, and when
the rain comes tho seeds sprout, and
after a while the sheep strut around
with the green grass growing on their
backs
All heads turned to look at Jessy.
No one smoke. But after a long silence