The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1884-06-04

ing, Sarah, if we couldn't do something
for herr You being on the relief com
mittee, you know, could easily"
"John Baker, do you suppose-do you
actually suppose Pm going to lift one
finger to help that old woman who in
suited me ten years agol 1t would look
we'll for me to be rushing to her aid now.'
"I think help would look better comm"
from you than from any one else, Sarah.
She'd know you'd forgiven the past, and
that your religion meant something"
''When she comes TO me and asks my
pardon for what she did ten years ago,
I'll think about helping her." said Mrs.
Baker, coldly, ill-pleased at her husbands
criticism. 81 do my duty as far as see
it, and fatter myself Pm as good as the
general run o. folks"
The entrance of Madge prevented
further conversation on the subject, and
with heavy sigh John Baker took his
seat at the supper-table He noticed
that his daughters eyes were very red,
but did not question her about them, for
he suspected the cause of their condi-
ton. But he was more than usually
kind in his manner to her, and on rising
from the table slipped silver dollar in
her hand, whispering; "Buy yourself
some little trifket, darling"
The unexpected gift, coupled with
the tender words, proved too much for
Madge in the over-strained condition
of her nerves. Throwing her arms about
her fathers neck, she laid her head on
his breast and burst into tempest of sobs
and tears. And the eyes of the father
were dim rs he tried to soothe her.
"This is perfectly ridiculous" said
Mrs. Baker, exasperated at the scene.
Gone would think the girl was seven
years old instead of seventeen. Leave
the room, Madge, and don't come back
again until you can behave yourself" p
You're too hard on the child, Sarah, "
said John Baker, as Madge went out,
sobbing wildly. "She's all we've got,
and we'd ought to make her home
happy"
"And do you pretend to say that ]
make it unhappy3" demanded Mrs.
Baker. "You just spoil her out of all
reason. She don't know what she really
does want, and so she makes mountains
out o. mole-hills. If she had to drudge
as Lucy Cole dses she'd have room for
complaint. l wish you wouldn't put
notions into her head. / have work
enough to manage her without your
setting her up to think herself abused. u
John Baker said no more. He knew
by long experience that further argu-
ment would be useless. Sarah called
herself a Christian, and was one of the
most active members of the Calvary
church; every Thursday evening her
voice was heard in prayer meeting, and
she held prominent positions on various
committees appointed by the elders. She
was always ready to join in plans to pay
the church debt; she was the chief
worker in every fair and sociable; heI
contributions to the poor box and to the
foreign missions were always large,
and the minister depended greatly
upon her help in every scheme
in which practical energy was
drop from her heart like cloak from
her shoulders when she entered her own
home. She did not appear to think il
necessary to exercise it there at all. The
gentle reproofs of her good natured hus-
band and the rebellion of her pretty
daughter only irritated her without bring
ing her to see where she erred. She was
very angry now, and began to clear the
table with unusual energy. But as John
took his hat and went out on some err
rand at the village postoi1ice, and SHE
was left alone, she grew calmer, and by
the time the dishes were all washed and
put away her irritation was almost for
gotten.
"I guess I'll run over and see Mrs
Marsh a minute" she said to herself, as
she took off her big gingham apron and
hung it up. "Like as not that Tom told
her all l said. He's one to enjoy making
fuss, and l don't want any hard feel
ing. So I'll just step over and tell hel
myself why l can't sit up with hel
mother"
Mrs. Marsh and Mrs. Baker were very
near neighbors, and had always beer
very intimate. They were accustomed
to running into the houses of each othel
at any hour without the ceremony o.
ring or a knock and so Mrs. Bake
went around to the back of the houst
when she reached Mrs. Marsh's, and
finding the kitchen door open, steppeC
in at once.
As she did so she heard the sound o
voices in the adjoining room, the door o
which was ajar.
She had advanced halfway across the
kitchen, intending to make her presence
known, when the sound of her own namt
spoken by voice which she recognized
as belonging to Mrs. Long, anothe
neighbor, made her pause.
'Mrs Bakers religion amt the kline
that stands soap and water" this woman
was saying. 'It hasn't made spark o
difrence in her. She's as stiif-neckeC
. . as ever. She may be good at rushin
round to society meetin's, but as TO
maxim personal sacrifices, it amt il
! her."
Mrs. Baker heard and trembled witt
indignation, but worse was to come.
"She certainly doesn't carry her relig
ba, Hoilu 1ifa