Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1884-01-02
4U.--NO II. WOODSTOCK WEDNESDAY, JAN. g. 1884.
Iris Brooke flew into them, and burst
into wild tempest Of sobs and tears,

Iris Brooke flew into them, and burst
into wild tempest Of sobs and tears,
with her face buried on his shoulder
"Now, what is the use of that?"
said Mrs. Milson, impatiently, IF
you was to cry gallon measure full,
you couldn't bring her back; and us
downright folly Of NTillson to encourage
it,"
"But what am | to Go without
mamma?' pleaded the child. Where
am to go?'
ITO the asylum, to-be-sure |" prompt
ly answered Mrs. NGi.lson, needles of
her husbands gestures for silt ice.
"And be thankful that the town finds
so good home as that for you, Now,
Mlllson, you needn't be glimacing at
me in that sort of way. Facts is
facts, and I'm only speaking for the
childs own good"
"Pd rather die" breathed Iris in so
low a tone that only Joab Nillson
heard the ,huddering syllahles. ooh,
please don't send me there"
The child's pathetic words served
only to strengthen resolve that was
gradually forming in the farmers
kindly heart
"Becky," he said next morning to
his wife, don't send to the asylum
authorities until l have been to the
city. III see Mrs Brooke's folks. You
say you found their address among her
papers,
"Yes," said Mrs. Millson. "Dut she
told me herself they wouldn't have
nothing to say to her since she married
against their will Where's the use Of
spending time and money to-"
death is wonderful softener,"
said Joab. 81 shouldn't be surprised
if they'd be willin to do something for
the little gal, arter all. Anyhow its
worth trying for"
His expedition, however, proved ut.
terly fruitless Mrs. Brooke's relatives,
"a sour-laced old mail and flinty-
hearted ship-broker-were ineyorable.
"She made her own bed" said one,
Now let her lie upon it."
u warned her just how things would
turn out sad the other. Il told her
washol my hands Of her and her
concerns. And l am not one to 60
back from my word What's that you
say? The little girl is not to blaine? I
am not chopping logic with you, my good
man. l am simply stating my determi-
nation to have nothing to do with eth
er Charles Brooke's wife ur daughter.
Good morning"
Joab Nlillson came back home with
his mind made up.
(Which is worst" said he to himself
"to tell little hb--a pious fraud tho
elder would call it, 'spose-or to be a
selfish brute. One things sartin, I
aint goin' to let little Iris be sent to
any asylum And Rebecca's one O
them women rs has got to be managed.
We'll" Mrs. Millson said, n5 he got
out Of the old box wagon that had
been sent to the depot to meet him,
"What did they say?'
"Well," said Joab, with 4 little twist
of his features, "it ailt convenient
for them to receive Iris just now. But
we are to keep her
"On what terms?" said Mrs. Mllson
crisply,
six dollars week." declared Joab,
inventing as he went on,
THAT amt unreasonable" said Mrs. |
Millson, complacently, But about
her clothes and schoolng?"
"Oh, we're to supply all that, and .
they'll pay usl'
They give ma money to pay for it,"
said Joab, who had stopped at the bank
on his way back and drawn out all his
little hoating balance of cash.
"Well, declare" said Mrs. Millson,
with gratiGel look. 81 wish we'd
thought Of applying to them before.
They seem inclined to do the right
thing"
Joab screwed his face into worse
contortions than ever, the minute his
wife's back was turned.
81 s'poso Pm mis'able sinner" he
thought "But there What's a fel-
low to do, with Iris big, mournfu eyes
looking up into mine? I've lied like
trooper; but | declare to gracious, I'd
do the same thing over again to keep
little Iris out of the asylum"
And looking toward the child, he
said. aloud:
You'd rather stay with us, Iris,
wouldn't you?"
Iris nestled fondly up to his side.
You are good to me-" said she.
"But | would starve sooner than 60 to
those people who neglected my poor
mother in her worst need"
So Iris Brooke grew up, wild, lovely,
unframed as her beautiful lfameSake
along the river shores.
And Mrs Millson looked ont as sharp
as ever for the main chance; and hon.
est Joab, discouraged by poor crops,
haunted by persistent creditors, and
puzzled to keep up the
mystery of Iris semi-annual allowance,
knew which way to turn.
But there never yet was a secret 50
profound that a woman will not find it
opt. And one unlucky day. Joab was
driven by dire necessity to confess nil