The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-05-22

scape, darkening the sky. Then again
she was. recalled to herself by the
silence of the house. Where were the
childrenp She looked out of the
window. At a considerable distance
from the house, something that might
be child's head or a dog was moving
back of log. Then another object ap-
peared and disappeared, but the instant
OF time sufficed to satisfy the maid Of
all-wOrk. The children were playing
in the open field near the house. But
where was the nurse? Strolling a long
distance from the little heads that were
bobbing up and down between the logs
that were scattered over the open field,
Nelly Moore observed familiar figure;
beside her, moving an arm as though
he were switching the air with cane,
was another form almost as familiar.
The nurse evidently was proud of her
conquest. 1t was not every girl in her
sphere who could boast a lover who
carried cane.
The maid-o' '-all-work turned back
from the window, renewed the fire in
the range, and sat down at the table
with the paper she still held in her
hand. Producing apiece of lead pencil
as long as ones finger, she bent over
the paper.
AS she drew curious lines upon the
paper, her thoughts ran this wise:
'|The new suit, the cravat, gloves,
hat and boots must wait Jamie's COM
ing. So long as the main >thing-the
mOney-is provided, I'm noways I'M
easy. There's enough and to spare
it ii be my lookout to set him off SO that
no one will call him Paddy, al
though there's no disgrace in it-only
when one comes among strangers
there's nothing lost by putting the best
foot foremost. Many pain and ache
would have been saved these seven
years past if somebody had thought for
and provided for me beforehand. I
hope Jamie will never experience what
I've endured. and nobody any the
wiser. Iherer' looking sideways at the
paper covered with curious marks and
lines crossing each other. "That'll be
Mowers mills up there by the dam. |
think I've not got it too near Drexers S
mills. He'll never lose himself once he
lis in sight of either. That's the short
side of the city. too. If he'll get Penn
Avenue set fairly in his mind, the long
side will be as easy to learn. But 1
must make the near cut plain-the near
cut across to the South Side. And the
bridgeS-that'l be all that's needed.
There's not mill left out"
'Nellyr a voice cried at that mo-
ment. 1t was Mrs. Britt, who stood on
the landing.
"Yes, NAM"
'Where are Mary and the children?"
''ln the open lot"
''Is Mary with them?-the fence is
down now. and they must not be allow
ed to go near the railroad. Tell her to
be very careful. | am going to my
room and must not be disturbed"
Mrs. Britt spoke like woman ac-
customed to implicit obedience. Mrs
Britt, well-meaning woman who had
never experienced hardship nor misfor-
tune-One of those people who are born
to ease and plenty, and accept them as
a matter of course rather than as bless
ingS-Sat down before her eScritOtre,
waiting for the inspiration which expe-
rience justified her in assuming nine
times out of ten was belated ere it
reached her pen. The best incidents,
the extraordinary condolences and
dramatic situations were always worked
out by other people. In her leisure she
had written many verses perform
ances that occupied her time, were ad-
mired by her friends and dreaded by
the editors of the daily papers of Grits-
burg more than competitors PROPOSE
ton to compare circulation. Unfortu-
nately for Mrs. Britt aud the editors, two
or three of these performances got into
print, and ever after they were COM
PEELED to do penance. Mrs. Britt's life
was as placid as a pool of water in q
prairie, but like many whose lives are
barren of incident, she was forever in
quest of the intense; her disrelish of the
commonplace was so great that she
was in the habit of declaring lit posi-
lively amounted to disgust Time
and again she began intensely thrilling
poems and stories, but she never got
farther than five or six verses or as far
as the middle of the first chapter.
Fragments of these performances lit
tered her escrttoiTe and amused her hus
band. OF the tragedies enacted every
day about her, she had no conception.
She sought incidents in the new West,
in flood and battlefield and in the wake
of lost steamers. The drudgery OF
every day life could not supply her with
heroism.
Mrs. Britt had at last found thrill
ing situation. All it required was
good management. There was the
great steamer with its machinery dis
abled, the signal guns firing, a tremen-
dous cliff within biscuit-throw of the
steamer, the steamer pounding on the
rocks. and breakers foaming all around
the hapless passengers. 1t required
some dexterity to reach this point and
extricate the half-dozen passengers es-
sential to Mrs. Britt's story after COM
mitting the remainder to the waves.
Down stairs Nelly Moore was making
strange lines and marks on the paper
that occupied her attention.
Mr.. Britt, who was employed in a
large factory near at hand, run in a
moment to see how they were doing"
and to satisfy the inner man with piece
of pie and glass of milk. He was in
the habit of popping in and out unan-
nounced. As he returned to the factory
a vision of curly head, laughing, mis-
chievous eyes, and blue stockings =
that seemed to twinkle in the
sunlight, as his youngest, Benny,
scampered from log to log. scrambling
up and down with his brother Oscar
and his sister Grace in his wake-rose
before him.
The first chapter of Mrs. Britt's new
story was half-completed when the loud.
shrill and unusually prolonged whistle
of a locomotive attracted her attention
She glanced carelessly aimleSSlY out of |