The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-11-13
TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.


widow in her need; but everybody was
taken up with the picnic. In the hard
work-day life Of these people, few pleas
ures arise; and in all the farm houses
through the six-mile and the nine-mile
prairie this picnic had been talked about
for a month of Sundays.
They were going in buggies, wagons.
and Oh foot; we're to fish in Big-Muddy
creek; to gather wild roses and black
berries; to light a fire in the "timbern
so they called the wooded portions
OF the flat country-and make hot cof-
fee for dinners and dance under the
trees after the rising Of the yellow
moon. Beyond all these attractions
for Debby there was one yet more
powerful; young Mr.. Thing-IIlram
Thing-was to be there. Now Deb
was 1G; and to her thinking, Hiram
was all interesting youth.
In fact, everybody had a good word
for Mr. Thing. He had a lovely farm,
to begin with. His sheep sheared 10
pounds to the fleece; his wheat averaged
30 bushels to the acre. He had nice
house; and since his mothers death
only his crippled little sister Jessy to
take care Of it. 1t was plain to ali the
gossips in the country that he needed a
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 q line in Big Muddy anG,
smiling OH Hiram Thing. Deb's very
existence would be forgotten-so Deb
thought-unless she should be there in
the white dress with the tiuted rutlles
She sat or the porch looking up to
the sweet silent stars and thought it
over. In the sitring-room her father
doZed in his chair, with a newspaper
over his face to keep off the night
moths and the stray flies that we're
sleepily sticking to the ceiling; her
mother nodded over "IIisn haif-darned
stocking. The work for the day was
done. Nothing between Deb and her
cOnsclene.
She sat there so long, and was 50 still
that finally her mother reused herself
to call, "Why, Debby, childl why don It
you come inS Have your wits gone a
wool-gathern'?"
''That's just it, mother!" cried Deb,
with a laugh, though she brushed
spoke. ''l've just about concluded to
give up the picnic and go to tho wool
pickin'."
''Debby Hornishl I thought your
heart was plumb set Oh the picnic,O
$50 l thought myself; but it's little
more set OIL helpin' Mis- Manly git her
wool out. She is such shif'less little
critter! AM it'll be real misfortune
for her If she don't sell her wool for a
good price. SO III just go along and
bear my bob with tho rest Of you. And
II you don't mind, mother, I'll take
over the cakes and things I baked for
the picnic"
'"'fhat's a good plan, honey, for 1
reckon she won't have much of Il din
ner.''
by "sun.up" the next morning Deb
and her mother were off. AS they
reached Mis- Manly's gate, buggy
whirled up in cloud cf dust. a voice
called, ''Debl Debby Hornishl"
''Welll Welll'' cried Mrs. Uornish, eff
there amt Hiram and Jessy Thingl"
why amt you on your way to the
picnic, Deb? cried the young girl in the
buggy; esGH, von ,,no,r ,,o., ,,,,,.;,,, :.
fun" said Deb, with a droll look, "I
couldn't resist cOmn' over and lendin'
a hand.'
"Well, you girls are crazy" said Mr..
Thing, jumpin'out Of the buggy; ''here' 8
jessy, nothin' would do but that she
must come to the wool-pickin'.
"That's natural enough, brother. I
never did want to go to the picnic
much. What could do on my crutches
amongst a lot o. lively young folks. L
should just a. been a drag on you.
But l can pick wool with anybody, 50
here | am. It's different, however,
with Deb"
Eyes, indeed" cried Mr.. Thing,
eagerly, "and now, Miss Deb, do let
me persuade you to change your mind.
You see l haven't any company now
that sis has deserted me. iii be proud
II 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-fields,
meeting the breeze as it ruflied the
young corn; to fish under the shade of
a cottonwood tree. Much, much bet
ter than to sit in a stutfy room, picking
brambles out of wool.
'Do CO." urged Jessy; "you know
I'm as good rs two at wool-pickin'."
Whether MIR. Things smile was too
confident or Deb's own heart reproached
her, know not, but at any rate she
said resolutely:
'IIl run a race with you in WOOL
pickin', Jessy Thing, am 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 III tho corner, the other u 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
party-grandmothers all too old to care
for picnlcs. "Grandma Bixby,n took
the lead; she was as spry as a girl and
said she was 100 years old. Mrs. IIig-
gins, noted for having survived threo
cOngestiye chills; Mrs. Harte, doubled
up with the rheumatism; and funny
little old woman who had Is children
and was nicknamed "Dame Thumb',