Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1885-03-04


neighbors," added Saba. "Or help
around in soap-making and preserving
times There are good many who
would pay fifty cents Il day and board
for good, intelligent help. And that
s a deal more than she earns here"
Little Kate looked rather sober.
81 have my doubts about that plan
working" said she. "But ! couldn't
stay here, away from you. IT, you all
go, why, so will l."
"Tafcn," went on Saba, "Ive laid up
six dollars toward a winter cloak In
Gle John wants it more than | do. I'll
keep it for him.
"There is my ten dollars in the say
ings-bank," added Helen. 81 did
want a pair Of thick boots and warm
winter shawl. But if Uncle John is
really in need"
81 haven't saved any money" said
little Kate, sorrowfully GLOW could
I,with my wages of two dollarsa week?
But Twill do all that l can to help"
"You are dear. generous girls, both
of you," said Saba. at may be little
hard, just at first, but it is clearly our
duty to go to Uncle John. And will
write and tell him so this very night
EDO" said Helen. "pll borrow Miss
Clitch's ink-bottle, and there area a pen
and two sheets Of paper in the wash
stand drawer. l can buy a postage
stamp at the druggists on the corner"
"Wouldn't a postal card be cheap
err" said wise little Kate.
But Saba shook her head.
"Would you put Uncle Johns pow
erty on postal-card, for all the world
to reud?" said she.
And little Kate answered, some
what abaShed
81 didn't think of that. I only
thov vght Of economizing cent. l
wonder if the time will ever come
when we don't have to think of say
ing?'
And little Kate put on her bonnet
and tripped around to the druggists
where one particular clerk put him,
self out to wait upon her.
"She has got face like a daisy"
said the druggists clerk. "It ever I
marry, l should like wife like that,
No, she's not much of customer of
ours, but | have seen her at church
meetings, and walk home with her
sometimes of an evening. She lives
in Timm's tenement-house with her
sister and cousin, and works in Ora.
cey's store. That's all | know about
her. But she always makes one think
of wild-llower."
Uncle John Jaycox was sitting by
his fresde when his niece's letter
came. The fire of birch logs blazed
gloriously up the chimney; pair of
fat, home-run candles glittered on the
table. In all the room there was an
evidence of gripping poverty.
"Yes," said Uncle John to a tall
young man who sat opposite, 81 guess
III have you here to run the farm for
me, Israel Penlield. It's gettin' too
much for me to manage alone. But as
for some woman to keep house for me,
now that Anastasia Grixon has been
fool enough to marry old Simpson
Eh? what?-a letter? I'm obleeged
to you, Mrs. Pinkney! Stop and take a
warm while read it, and I'll git you
basket of glliflower apples to carry
home afterward. They're jest spilin'
to be eaten, them gillillowers is"
But as he perusod his letter, a curl
Gus expression stole over his rugged
features.
"Sakes alive." said he, stamping one
foot on the floor. "What in creation
does all this mean? guess We'll have
enough housekeepers, Israel. Here's
my three nieces from New York a
comm to live with me. because Mrs.
Pinkney here has writ 'em that I've
lost my property. And they're goin'
to take care Of me. Well, swami"
81 didn't write no sich." whined
Mrs. PinAney, with rather an alarmed
air. 81 only said you was dreadful
poor in health. / meant the lumbago
and rheumatic. II didn't say nothin
about money"
"Well, no matter what you said, nor
what you didn't say" declared Un:le
John, crumpling up the letter in his
hand and staring at the fire. "The
gals think Pm poor, and they're comm
here to support me, and make a home
for me in my old age--bless their
hearts! don't know why they should
do it." he added, with a conscience
stricken face. 81 never did nothin'
for them. And Kate and Helen are
my sister James darters, and Saba is
IIepsy's only child. And they're
workin' for livin,' and I've got
muren | know what to do with. It's
a shame now mint IT, that th;nps is SO