Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1883-02-08
THE MYSTERIOUS THIEF.

HE M1SIERlOJS IH1Efs
It was quiet summer afternoon, and
/ was sitting at my window. looking out
upon the lovely view that lay in the
lengthening shadows before me. The
hills were deepening from delicate
violet to a deeper purple, the sunlight
was fading from the sky, which was rich
with its crimson softness, and not a
breath stirred to rouse the flowers from
their long afternoon nap.
Baby" now six years old, was busy
with her doll, Joan D. Arc" by name;
so-called. because of her mysterious
eyes, which. Baby thought, bore strik-
ing resemblance to those OF that he
roine's picture. Her wardrobe dis
turbed her motherly notion of tidiness,
and small toy wash-tub had been
brought out from the baby house, with
all the laundry appurtenances, and the
CAMP rolled up and an important look
o. her baby face, was emulating the
laundress' skill, with consummate gift
for acting, that filled my mother heart
with tender pride.
At last the little dress was ready to be
whitened, and | watched Baby with a
lazy smile, as, utterly ignoring the fact
that the sun was almost ready to say
goodnight, she stepped out on the little
grass-plOt in front of the cottage, and
stretched its small proportions into a
proper place. and, turning back. re-
sumed her stand at the little wash-tub.
How pretty she was, with the long, fair
curls caught back with a tortoise shell
pin she had taken from my cashion,
and her little apron turned up to ena-
BILE her to realize more wildly her
"situation.'
But even with so enchanting a pict-
ure before me, my eyelids slowly
dropped, and only knew that [ had
fallen asleep by being aroused by an ex-
cited little cry of trouble. ''What has
happened?' 1 asked, starting anxiously
up.
"Why! Joan D'Arc's dress has gone,
mamma came the quiet reply; and
looking out, l saw Baby standing, q
very picture of astonishment, with the
rest of the dolls wardrobe wet and
crumpled between her little hands, the
work of bleaching being summarily and
completely brought to an end.
"Gone! Oh. that is impossible 1
said, calmly; ''of course it is there,
dear"
'But where, mamma?'' came the
question, SO practical, that my vague
assertion proved itself at once valueless.
l leaned forward, and looked out of the
window, feeling bound reproduce proof
of my superior wisdom. But, seeing
no speck of white visible on the grass
plot, 1 said quietly, with ready ingenui-
ty: "Why. Baby, the wind must have
blown it away"
She turned her deep blue eyes to-
wards me, and stood quite still for a
moment, and then said, slowly: "But
where is the acisad, mamma9''
Seeing it was the still. sultry day it
was, this logical question, only aug
mentng the difficulty as to the where
abouts of the wind as well as of the
dress. reused me from my romancing to
action. l got up from my
chair, and Joined Baby in the garden.
After asking the usual questions in
such cases, viz: Exactly where did
you put it?'' ''Then where did you
COP" How long did you stay?" etc,
Ga infnStuaa, 1 sat down again. with
Baby standing by my side, and tried to
solve'the curious mystery.
Perhaps some little child had strayed
into the garden, and, covcting Joan
dress, had absconded with it, while
Baby was busy at the little tub; and so
comforting her with the promise of IN
other, which promise | Immediately
proceeded to fulfil, went back to the
little cottage parlor.
Baby, having spread the remainder
of the dolls garments on the grass,
came and, drawing her little chair by
my side, watched me as I began my
dress making.
drew from my scrap basket dainty
bit of dotted muslin and some pretty
lace, and Joan's robe was fairly under
way. when Baby, springing from her
little chair, cried out. between despair
and dismay:
why, mamma, then Sc gone toor' I
followed her gaze to the empty grass
plot. in utter bewilderment.
''Some one must be the thiefn'
exclaimed. at last: Here! Baby" as
sudden thought flashed across my mind,
Take these little scraps of muslin and |
ace, and dampen them, and lay them /
out on the grass, Just as you did the !
rest, and we will drop the lace curtain /
and watch behind it, and discover who
t is. And having laid the snare, we !
lat in GREATNESS stiffness watching for |
our prey.
But the minutes came and went, and
not sound disturbed the serenity of !
he dying day. Baby had climbed into
ny lap, and was a picture for an artists
brush, as she sat with crimson cheeks
md shining eyes, her tiny fingers laid
on her lips, as nurse came in
o take her away for her tea. Not
-oice. not step. not sound. Still we
watched with persistent resolution. The t