Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1884-02-08

WI Sio"hiS ipiitiN tIOuSu S!Ic lctlS u
little guilty, too, as if she ought to d.
so. Then she turns away and sighs
softly: she knows not why.
Now fate had ordained that when
Aunt Bethia came to visit i'll our family
We should he entertaining, as an
honOred guest. our unc,e, Jeremiah
Barker, or Uncle Jerry as we
children familiarlv called him, though
he was only distant relative on my
fathers side.
He had been knocking about for the
last fifteen wears or so in Australia. and
having amassed considerable fortune,
returned now to his native city, with
the hope of ending his days among his
kindred.
He was unmarried: and hidden
secretly away in his lsged bachelor
heart was the long cherished dream of
a wife and firesi,le of his own.
But after spending the best part of
his life in rongh toni, separated from
all society of women or in fact, So
ciety of any sort-he found himself
now laboring under great disadvan-
tages.
The girls that he knew and playel
with when he was boy had grown so
far away from him i'll many directions
that he felt he had no part or lot with
them, and SO. slowly and sadly, the
hope of years began to fade away.
1t was Just here that dear, old fash
ioned Aunt Bethia came into his life
and from the first moment of their
meeting Uncle Jerry appropriated her
man specially provided for him, and
straightway elected her to preside over
that ideal future he had dreamed os.
In short, for the first time in his life
he found himself passionately in love,
and as men of his years are apt to do
i'll such case, he resolved to make
"short work" of his wooing.
Accordingly he spent one week in
watching her every word and action
and in studying her face from under his
shaggy eyebro"s, while he pretended
to read his newspaper.
Another week he devoted to follow
ing her about and waiting upon her
with such alarming assidni'y, that the
little woman began to wonder and to
tremble at she knew not what.
Finally, he grew impatient to know
his fate.
what is the use of eating about
the bush?" he said to him.
self, in his blunt fashion. IF she
don't fancy me now she never will, and
may as we'll know it."
So he came in upon her one after
noon as she sat knitting by the window,
and, nerving himself for a decisive ef-
fort, he thus addressed her:
"Bethia, hain't known you long, to
be sure, but 1 feel better acquainted
with you to-day than l should with any
other woman in years time. Things
have changed 'mazingly in the fifteen
years that I've been away from home,
and the women most of all. / find l
don't know 'em.
The girls that used to study out
of the same books with at school, ]
art and 'a'iinities, and so on and so
fOrth-all Greek to me. l left 'em
doin' housework and knittin' stockin's,
and now l find 'em playin' Oh the
pianner, and ravin' over pic!ers and
statoos things l don't know not lin
about-and what's more, ] don't want
to!
"The only statoos that 1 ever liked
the Looks on at all, is the Indian girls
standin' outside of the tobacker shops
And as for mus.c-why, Bethia, Id
ruther hear you sing old Naomi, the
way You did last Sunday night, than all
their rattle and clatter.
Il did Use to think, when I was out
in Australy, that when come home
I'd git married and try to settle down,
but don't s'pose any OF these new
fashioned, highfalutin' women would
have me with all my money; anl,' says
he, ungallantly, "by George! | don't
know rs want them"
Aunt Bethia looked mildly shocked. /.
"You see." he continued, APOLOGIZE
cally, 1--WE coul ldn't take mach comfort
together less we felt some where nigh
alike about things, now could We?"
"Why no." said Aunt Bethia, can
didly, looking up ct him in medita-
tive way; Il don't s'pose you could
''And should hate to see my money
fooled away ON trash that don't care
q continental for, though 7 know wo-
men are master hands to spend money,
and mean my wife shall have o plenty,
too
81 don't think all women are extrava-
CANT, I'm sure" said Aunt Bethia, with
some show of spirit II know 1 amt,
unless she added, deprecatingly, per
haps l am in the matter of white
aprons. Mother always said so. and l
do like plenty of clean aprons-say one
every afternoon.
"My wife shall have clean one for
every hour in the day, if she wants!''
roared Uncle Jerry, with enthusiasm.
"And. now think of it, by George
if I don't believe white apron dresses
up woman more than the big Kooh-i-
moor could!
"And shouldn't wonder. after all, il
them white aprons had somethin' to do
with your lookin' so different from
other women-so kinder good and old
fashioned, you know"
Aunt Belhia blushed and laughed.
"rhey call me the 'old-fashioned
woman" she said, simply.
"And | an an old fashioned man." he
said, significantly.
Then he looked at her and met the
startled glance of her soft eyes.
Maybe it occurs to you, as it does to
me, that there's somethin' peculiarly
interestin' in the fact that am an old
fashioned man and you an old-fashioned
woman an-coincidence. amt it now?"
Dear me" murmured Aunt Bethia,
dropping dozen stitches in her con-
fusion; "why, no, 1 hadn't thought on
t."
He took her hands with gentle force,
knitting work and all, and bent over
her.
Think on t now, then, won't you?
said lie. "Come, Bethia, be my wife,
and We will show the world what a
happy couple an old-fashioned man and
woman can be-"
She looked up into the honest, kindly
face, glowing down upon her, and it re-
assured her. The grasp of his hands SC
firm yet so loving, compelled her, and
with q thrill, sweet as strange, she
I 1