Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1883-07-11

school Of yours, Well, if you DON
like my offer, you're not obliged tt
accept it, BE fine lady, if you please
and see where it will land you"
BY way of answer, Essie marched
out of the room with all the dignity o.
a royal princess, She only stopped il
the kitchen long enough to kiss Ruth
who was in the midst of baking.
"Poor darling said she, "How
wish l could carry you off with me
For stay, WON'T
Life is hard work, Essie," said Mrs
Martin, beginning to cry, in spite Of
herself; "and it's a woman's duty tC
help her husband"
And mean to help mine--when
have one" said Essie, blushing bright
ly. "But not by wearing myself out.
Mr.. Martin shook his head.
"If Stephen Smith is foolish enough
to marry that saucy gypsy, she'll
lead him a pretty life,' said he. 81
wonder if she expects to sit on {
satin sofa all her days, with a rose
in her hand, and her hair frizzled, in
that preposterous fashion, all over
her eyes? But | warn EN-, they need
never come to me for help! Esther
has treated me with too much insolence
for me ever to receive her again"
81 am sure she did not mean any
thing" said Mrs Martin, apologetically,
"Well, then, her words belied her
meaning" remarked Thomas Martin
grimly COMPRISING his lips.
But Stephen Smith was apparent
ly undaunted by the possibilities OF
ruin predicted by Farmer Martin, for
he married Esther and went to the
city to live, within three months.
81 give 'em just year to come
back here and eat humble pie'' said
Martin, vindictiyely.
"Oh. Thomas; don't talk So" said
his wife. "One would think you
would be glad to have some evil
befall them"
"And 50 | should" said Martin,
viciously grinding his teeth together
"That girl needs lot of humbling'
and | hope she'll get it."
Three years afterward there came
one of those terrible droughts that
undo farmers life-work in a sea
sou, and sweep away his prospects as
an autumn wind sweeps away a sere
forest. The cattle died, pestilence
broke out among the flock of sheep.
which Thomas Martin had just bought;
a high wind blew his best barn over.
and disaster stared him in the face on
every side.
"It's no use talking" said he. 81
cannot meet this wears interest on the
mortgage. The place will have to &C"
"Oh, Thomas" groaned Mrs, Martin,
who, poor soul, now lay all day on a
hard wooden lounge, and groaned to
see how wofully she was needed at the
helm.
81 can't help it," said Martin.
"Everything is against me-
It's only five hundred dollars" said
Mrs. Martin. "You might borrow it.
who'd lend tome, I'd like to knowY
said Martin, remembering with sigh
how he had hardened his own face
against every humble suppliant in the
golden days of his prosperity.
"There's Esther's husband" suggest.
cd Ruth. 'I've heard that he's doing
well in Boston. And, after ALL Esther's
my own sister"
Mr.. Martins features contracted into
a hideous grimace. OF all the bitter
cups which circumstances had held to
his lips of late this was the bitterest.
But it had to be swallowed There
was no help for it.
81 didn't suppose Smiths folks lived
as genteel as this" said he to himself,
as Il neat maid led him across an
octagonal vestibule, tloored with black
and red marble, and fragrant with
flowers, under the golden fringe of an
antique porti"re, into large taste
fully-furnished room, where the sing
ing birds, the open piano, the low satin
sofa all bctokencd no lack of money.
Yes--Mr. Smith was at home. He
had not yet gone TO the store, and pres
emily he came in, waving welcomes to
the man who lad married Essie's sister
LEND you thousand dollars?" said
he. "Of course we can lend you n
thousand dollars. What is money for
if not to help each other with. Oh,
yes. We've a snug little sum laid up
in the bank, and we live very comfort
ably. My business? Yes, it's tolera
bic, but it never got usall these things"
glancing at the soft arabesques OF the
carpet, the graceful folds of the Grim
son silk curtains and the easel filled
with proof engravings. THAT is my
wife's doing"
"Eh?" said Mr.. Martin, staring
around him.
"Yes," said Smith, with a certain,
quiet satisfaction. "Essie is an artist,
you know-a designer. she invents
patterns for the paper-hangers and up
holsterers. They are glad to pay her
fifty dollars II week.
Fifty dollars week. exclaimed
Thomas Martin. "Why that's more
fifty dollars is, mean than poor Ruth