Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1884-01-09
MORE WAYS THAN ONE
BY MARJORIE BURNS.

tiers put their hands on their hips and
gave three simultaneous shifts of super
lative scorn, before they began their dis
cussion of the stepmother whom their
father had brought that evening to the
weather, beaten farmhouse that stood
we'll up the side of Bald Mountain.
Was he demented when he married
this little city exotic, who had the most
hazy ideas on the subject of the relative
merits of peach.leather and picked
mangoes. and had actually confessed.
without blush, that it was an article of
faith when a child that butter grew upon
the trees yclept butternut?
Hannah and Eliza returned All EN-
phat;c affirmative to this question, pro-
pounded by Mary, the third member of
the trio. But when Mrs. Hastings
capped the climax of her inconsequence
by bestowing the Tightly name of Lucille
upon the wee, foir baby, and then dying,
each registered a mental VOW that the
morsel of humanity should be brought
up in the housewlfely way she should go.
But although the most energetic women
sionally dispose of those propositions.
Lucille evinced al unconquerable de.
termination not to stir marmalade, and
evoked ready floods OF tears at the bare
sight of dish towel; and when the
three sisters went, one by one, to the
homes of neighboring farmers, they
gave up all attempts to direct her edu-
cation. So she attended the village
school, roamed at her own hayward will
over the farm, paper and pencil in hand,
jotting down leaf, bud, bird-anything
that took her fancy, went to boarding
school, aud finally returned from her
postgraduate art course, and married a
farmer.
"Train up a child in the way she
should co." murmured Hannah, BEAM
ing with satisfaction at the thought that
her persistence in teaching Lucille to
make currant jelly against her will had
at length borne fruit.
But the remaining sisters shook their
heads, like couple of New England
Cassandras; and when they went. on
their first official visit to inspect the
workings OF Lucille management, Han
nah herself became inoculated with .un-
belief and joined IN the prophecy OF a
train of disasters, concluding with tab
leau vivant of "Over the Hill to the
Poor House."
"a pretty farmers wife," said Mary,
as the trio walked into the kitchen,
where their father was taking his mid
morning lunch.
"What has the child done now" in
CURED MIR. Haskell, as he swallowed the
last crumb OF spicy, yellow gingerbread,
| and washed it down with generous
draught of butterml]k.
"Done? Nothing. That's just the
trouble. Her ,idleness and extravaganza
will ruin Harry Jocelyn, if he is the
richest farmer round about Milford!'
snapped Hannah
ga penny wasted day by day will
melt the Rothschilds' wealth away
added Mary, emphasizing Hannah's
doleful augary with one of the little
moral couplets of her childhood. "
"Ten o'clock, and she had just got
upl One of the girls asked us up to
Mrs. Jocelyn's boO.dore. and there she
klay on the sofa, looking pretty enough
to eat, but as good-for-nothing as wax
doll, having her hair brushed by her
maid!" burst in Eliza, with sarcastic
emphasis upon these two words so an.
tagonistic to Yankee prejudice and in.
dependence. II asked her if she was
going to try for the prize offered for the
best pound of butter at tho county fair,
and she opened those blue eyes of hers
till they we're most as big as her new.
tangled sane e.plates,; and said that Harry
didn't marry her bec4dce she was q
good butter-maker And then she be.
gan talking of picture that she was
painting for his birthday, and said that
she wanted to make home pleasant fol
him. Pleasant for a 6ddlestick!" she
concluded, with q scornful suort. ~
"Hum ha what can do about it? y
stammered Mr.. Haskell, as he rescued q
perishing fly from the oregs of his bnt
termjlk. "
."Do? Why demonstrate, father !"
promptly replied Jane. So. O. " !. - -
I So, although Mr.. Haskell would have
rather gone to the gallows than TO have
dimmed the blue eyes SO like that other
pair, in whose sweet depthssh he had lost
bis heart, he screwed his courage to the
sticking point, fully convinced that il
be failed in his duty he would become
responsible for all the ills that might
follow, and wey to IS demonstrate -
Ten O'Clock, and just up? Pretty
late bours for q farmers wife-hey, lit
tie girl?" be said, awkwardly, as he was
ushered into the rose-red boudoir. in
whose pink gloom Lucille, in her white
negljgee. looked like q pearl in the
heart of q rose.
''The nights are so warm that I don't
get asleep until late" said Lucille, with
q pretty, deprecatory pout, as she put
up her face for kiss.
But the boo-dore why is it neces.
sary?" locking around the cosy room
with a perfunctory severity And
why maid . he continued, waving his
bandana with would-be severity az the
delft little maiden who was brushing
Lucille's flowing hair with golden floss.