The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1884-09-11
MRS. BATTERBY'S CRAZY QUILT.
BY AMELIA SULLIVAN.


baleful spell of "crazy" patchwork, becomes
surely and swiftly lost to every other influence
and needless of every appeal either to hei
conscience Dr. her affections.
Well, Mrs. Batterby was dear little roly-
poly of woman, with dark blue eyes, and a
soft gurgGng laugh that was perfectly infec-
hous, and which had the added charm of sud
denly bringing into view two rows of little
white teeth and some hitherto unsupported
dimples. Her bright brown hair waved natur-
ally on either side of her smooth white fore
head, and Mr.. Batterby who had the reputa-
ton of being quite connoisseur il
female beauties, and given to admirine
snowy, brilliant women, thought there never
was anything in these days of bangs and friz-
yes, so exquisitely feminine, and bewitching
and suggestive of home and happiness as
that tiny white parting in his wife's bounteous
brown hair, and the little ripping waves on
her white brow. However, he simply re-
marked that he liked that way of wearing her
hair" and let it so at that In his instantane-
Gus mental conceptions of her there was al
ways distinct in his mind, her bright loving
glance, her pretty brow and hair, her dark
dress and white apron and plump, white
hands; and generally he thought of her with a
baby in her arms. They had been married
ten years, and there had been three children,
so that Mr. Batterby had good cause to re-
member his wife as holding babe
Such woman it was who fell victim to that
'crazy quilt mania, which is now insidiously
undermining the moral and intellectual charac-
ter of the females in all ranks of life through
out the whole country
1t was Nine Pumpernickel, who, being her
self demented, introduced the contagious mania,
into this hitherto happy household Who is
Mime, Pumpernickel: Everybody asked that
the moment they saw her. With her gray hair
cooled like a coronet on her well-poised, head,
and her air of good breeding and her lively wit,
and her gracious manner, one almost expected
TO hear she was duchess. But in reality
she was only woman of defeated possibilities.
She might have been world renowned plan
list if she had been born to poverty She might
have been Senator's wife, if she had married
her first love. She would have been great
writer if she had been better talker, and she
would have been celebrated as a wonderful
n,
and in Boston, instead of spending her first
twenty years in learning and teaching music in
Western State.
But despite her disadvantages Nine Pun
pernlckels consciousness of her own superior
ity to criticism never deserted her, and never
failed to impress, with more or less inten-
sity, those with whom she came in contact.
So wh mo al al
valise, and from every part of it came tumbl-
ing out silk rags, snippings and clippings of
every shade and shape, she said in her gay
way:
Il travel like an aesthetic ragman. It's my
crazy quilt. You must have one. They are
elegant" And Mrs. Battery Immediately de-
cided to have one
That night, when Mr.. Batterby, who as one
of Chicago's prominent men, had been re-
quested to attend "a ratification meeting" down
town, arrived home at 1890 p. m, he looked
over the banisters into the dining room, and in
voluntarily exclaimed:
up yet? Why, what in the world are you
doinG?"
Well might he exclaim
The floor of the room into which he looked
was strewn with rags; the dining table was
strewn with them; and bending over the table,
arrayed in loose wrappers, their cheeks
flushed and their hair dishevelled in their
eagerness were his wife and her guest pulling
about and tossing around the heap of silk
scraps.
ooh I'm making crazy quilt" distracted
" returned his wife, scarcely raising her eyes
from her work Mime Pumpernickel is helping
me plan squares"
Mr. Batterby looked on moment, his habitual
abiding sense of man s inability to comprehend
the mysterious workings of the feminine intel
lect enabling him to maintain becoming COM
posture efmanner
''Woii, good night" he said. with the air of one
who was giving up problem.
But as he turned TO go his eyes was caught by
the familiar pattern of one silken fragment He
drew it from the heap
My old necktiei another of nv scarfs,n
"Now, Gustavel' cried Mrs. Batterby, snatch
ing it away; you gave up wearing that years
ago.
Here is one bought in Paris" said Mr. Bat
terbF, giving another pull at the pile, and bring
ing but rich blue satin scarf.
And she is so close and stingy with them
she won't cut one!" cried Nine Pumpernickel
gayiy.
Here Nine. Pdmpernickel, I'll give YOU
this for your quilt, very calamity responded
Mr. Battefby, handing over the bright silken
ribbon
Ca involuntarily gasped his wife "Why
GEstave. and I've been saving that to use in
some such way this these five yearsi,
''Oh, thank you Mr.. Batterby. Now 1 shall
always have something to remind me of you in
my quilt Now you see how your wife feels
about it! But l shall not divide with herl"
"Ne, you keep il ALL" jocuosely advised Mr..
Batterby, keeping up the joke; and he betook
hlmgelf to bed, leaving the two women delving
anto the rags
They finished their squares, though Mrs
Batteroy had to let the baby cry little while,
TIL she pieced out a corner; but there was not
the same cordially between them as before Mr.
Batterby's entrance. Mrs Batterbv's good
sence was all that restrained her from jealousy.
She knew what a belle and firt Nine Pun
pernlckel used TO be, and really" she was
mentally saying, gray hairs and wrinkles
wonld Het prevent her being q coquette vet
Will she really take advantage of Gustaves
fun and carry away that scarf she knows was
boarding"
But Nine. Pumpernickel, who had keen
sense of humor, and read Mrs. Batterby's mind
like book really did carry the scarf away to
her room and yallse. and poor little Mrs Bat
terby (who lay awake that night planning
squares, and thought about that beautiful tie.
and Gustave's reckless generosity)never saw
again the treasure of which her husband and
her guest had SO ruthlessly despoiled her.
Immediately after breakfast the next morn
ing the two women sat down TO their work
I'm going to let Mary dress the baby and
pick up the house I'll just let things go, and
devote myself to you"
s'Yes, and well see how many squares of
your quilt we can finish while I'm here"
"We must go to the opera matinee this after
noon, you know"
s'Dear me! hardly feel as If we could take
the time" cried Nine Pumpernickel, who was
Musician by nature and training, and adored
the opera.
They worked on their respective squares till
the last minute, barely allowing themselves
time to dress and swallow a cup of tea each.
ssWe shall be little late" said Mrs. Batter
by, when they we're almost at their destination
The next moment she gave little cry of con-
sternation
sob, mercy If 1 didn't leave our tickets on
the mantelpiece!"
'sHow long will it take for us to go for
them"
Forty minutes, and forty back Call it an
hOur and n half The oY)era will ha nearly