Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1884-06-04
MEADOW FARM.
BY HELEN GRAVES.

Mary Miller came home from tI
factory upon that April evening
with light, quick step. The sky ws
IN tender glow; the frogs were croal
ing IN the swamps; the naples wer
crimsoned with their earliest banner
of blossom; and as she tripped alons
Mary found tuft of viotets, half hid
den un6er drift of dead leaves
purple, scentless ms!-''The frs
violets always bring good luck wit
them" she whispered to herself, as sh
pinned them into the bosom of he
blue flannel dress.
Home" was scarcely the ideal reali
cation of that poetic word to our factor,
girl. She and her mother lived in the
upper half of a shabby, unpainteC
wooden house, with the blacksmith
scolding wife and seven riotous chill
dren down stairs, and one-half of
trampled back yard by way of garden
where nothing ever grew but burdocks
nettles, and Mrs. Mugg's long-legge6
fowls.-But Mrs. Miller, who had beer
a school-teacher once, and still retained
somewhat of the refinement of her early
education, had the tea ready, with 8
shaded lamp and bunch of maple
blossoms on the table, ready for Mary
20 come home.-"Good news, mother
the girl cried lightly. "The Meadow
farm is to let! Mother, we must take
its
Mrs. Miller looked obviously at the
eager, bright face, with it's gray eyes
and waves of yellow hair.-"Can we af-
ford it, daughter?" she said, slowly. GA
whole house, and farm of forty-three
acres ?"-''It isn't such a very large
house, MOTHER" pleaded Mary, as she
laid the bunch of violets in her mothers
lap.-"Nor so many more rooms than
we hare here. And we could keep two
COWS, and [ could sell milk and butter,
and spring chickens and eggs; and
am almost sure that Will Davidge would
work the farm on shares. And only
think, mother, how delightful it would
be to have a home all to ourselves.
where we couldn't here Mrs Mugs
boxing Bobby's ears, or Helen shrek
ing with the toothachel And little
garden, mother, where we could have
peonies and holly hooks, and all those
lovely, old-fashioned flowers that your
soul delights in"
Mrs. Miller's face softened. cit
would be a great temptation, Molly"
she said.-"It is month since old Mrs.
Dabney died." said Mary. "And they
say that her daughter in the city, and
her son in California despise the old
farm, with it's one story house and it's
old red barn. So it is to be let! And
so cheap too! Only $3.50 a year!
Mother, we must take it! I'll leave the
factory and turn dairymaid. I've saved
enough, you know, to buy the two COWS
and some real Plymouth Rock fowls
to begin with, and oh, it will be such a
happiness! Say yes, mother-do say
yesw
When Mary Miller pleaded like this,
the gentle widow never knew how to
refuse; and the upshot of it was that
they leased the old Dabney house, and
became co .sovereigns of the realm of
Meadow farm. It was their first night
there. Overhead the young May moon
shone through veil of purple mist. A
solitary owl booted in chestnut-wood
back of the house, for Meadow farm was
on a lonely mountain side,
where no one came except on special
business.
The Plymouth Rock chickens were
safely shut up where foxes could not
reach them nor minks steal in to bleed
their young lives away; the cows-two
fine young Attorneys chewing
their cuds back of the old red barn,
and Mary Miller had flung a handful
of cedar sticks on the hearth, where
their scented blaze illuminated the old
kitchen with leaping brightness beau
tiful to see.
Because IFS just possible that the
house may be Damp" she said, "after
being uninhabited so long. There,
mother, isn't that cheerful? And isn't
it nice our old rag carpet should
chance to fit cur floor so exactly ?"
with a satisfied, downward glance.
"And do you see those tiger lilies? I
found them down by the garden wall
oh, such red wilderness of them
Old Mrs. Dabney set them out her.
self, they say. It seems only yester-
day." she added thoughtfully, shat I
came past here and saw old Mrs. Dab
ney sitting in the big chair by the fire,
last Mrs. Miller uttered
little shrek, and grasped her daugh-
ter's arm at this moment. Mary stopped
short, with an ashy pallor overspread-
ing her cheek. For as she spoke, the
door opened, and very little old wo-
man, silver-haired and shriveled like a
mummy, came in, and walking across
the floor seated herself in Mrs. Dab
ney's very corner. An old woman
dressed in the snuff-colored gown
which Mrs. Dabney had worn, and