The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-03-28

| ItblC6ub dDDuJ IL 10 OUh6T people, but she
felt aggrieved that she did not unbend and
| talk it over with her.
"He says | may keep it," she told Emme-
| line when she went in. "He guesses Mis-
| Weeks don't set no great by it, am he don't
care. He was awful toppin' at first, but he
| begun to look kind of ashamed, an wilted
right down after I'd talked to him while.
| told him jest what thought of the whole
| business from beginnin' to end"
| The hair wreath was hung up in state in
the front room after that, and openly dis
played. Everybody upheld Charlotte in
| taking it, and she felt herself quite hero
inc. Nothing delighted her more than to
have people speak about it and admire it,
| One day she was descanting on its
| beauties to one of the neghbors, when a
question arose which attracted Emmeline's
| attention.
''Whose hair is that reddish rosebud
made out off," asked the woman.
| Mrs Steadman gave d warning ''Hush !"
and a scared glance at her daughter. En-
incline saw it. After the woman had gone
she went up to the wreath and looked at it
closely. "Mother," said she, ''whose hair
| is in that rose bud?"
Mrs. Steadman shrank before her daugh-
| ter's look.
mother, you didn't 90 to my drawer
and take that out missed it! How did
| you know | had it,"
snow, Emmeline, thar amt no reason
y
| drawer one day for something, an hap
pened to see it. AM poor Nancy wanted
some hair that color dreadfully, am she
| didn't really want to go out Of the family,
an we all thought"
"Mother, did he know it?'
"Now, Emmeline, it's ridiculous for you
to fire up so. | s'pose he did. You remem-
| Der that last Friday night when Paulina
was here last summer, an we Ell went to
meetin'? He came that night and we
warn't to home, and Nancy was settin' on
her door step when he drove by, am she
had to call him in an show him the wreath.
AM | s'pose she let on bout his hair bein'
| in it. | told her she was awful silly: but
she said he kinder cornered her up, am she
couldn't help it. | scolded her for it. She
said he seemed kinder upset.
"Mother, that was the reason" 4
| treason for what"
''The reason he stopped coming, ano-
everything"
"Emmeline Steadman, don't believe it.
'Tain't likely a fellar'd get so mad as that
jest cause somebody'd made a rosebud
out of his hair to put in wreath; faint
reasonable. | should think he'd been rather
pleased than anything else.
so, mother, don't you see? He-gave it
to me, and he thought that was all | cared
for it, to give it to Aunt Nancy to put in a
hair wreath. And he is awful sensitive and
quick tempered"
! SuOulu OuIuh no WAS, W SCb IllttI dO
such thing as that; l can't believe he
did,"
II know he did,"
"Well, there amt any call for you to feel
huffy about it, Pm sorry did it; Pm sure
| wouldn't if I'd dreamed it was goin' to
make any trouble, l didn't have any idea
he was such fire an tow kind of fellar
as that. | guess it's jest~as well we didn't
have him in the family; thar wouldn't
have been no livin' with him"
That night Emmelne wrote q letter to
Andrew Stoddard. She sat up for the pur-
pose after her mother had gone to bed,
pretending she had some work TO finish.
She wrote the sort of letter that most New
England girls in her standing would have
written, She began it: Dear Friend"
touched very lightly on the subject of the
hair, just enough TO explain it, then deco
rOusly hoped that If any misunderstanding
had interrupted their friendship it might
be done away with; she should always
value his very highly. Then she signed
herself his true friend, "Emmeline E.
Steadman"
Nobody knew what fortunes of suspense
Emmeline suffered after she had sent her
poor little friendly letter. She sewed on
quietly just as usual. Her mother knew
nothing about it.
She began to go regularly to the post
office, though not at mail times. She would
make an errand to the store where it was,
quietly and casually after she was through
trading.
One morning she came home from one of
those errands, dropped down in chair,
and covered her face with her hands. Her
mother was frightened; she was mixing
bread; they We're both out in the kitchen.
"Emmeline, what is the natter"
Emmelne burst into a bitter cry: "He's
married. Mrs. Wilson told me Just now.
Mrs Adams told her; she lives next to his
folks"
"Why, Emmeline, didn't know you
cared so much about that Teller as all that ="
81 didn't" said Emmeline, fiercely; but
Wrote TO him, an what's he goin' to
think? I'd died first if I'd known. o, if
you'd only let that lock of hair alone! Y GU
brought all this trouble onme?"
"Well, Emmeline Steadman, if you want
to talk to the mother that's done for you
what [ have, on account of a fellar that's
showed pretty plain he didn't care any
great about you, you can"
Emmeline said no more, but, with look
of despair, rose to go upstairs.
I've told you [ am sorry took it,"
81 think you'd better be-" said Emmeline,
as she went through the door.
She did no more work that day; she
staid upstairs, and would see nobody: she
did not care what people thought now.
Mrs. Steadman grew more and more con-
science stricken and worried; she went for
Ghe nlSht mai herself, with tOrlOrn nope
of something, she did not know what.
When she got back she came directly up
stairs into the room where Emmeline was.
"Emmeline," said she, in shaking voice,
there's a letter for you; guess it's from
him."
Emmeline took it and opened it, her face
set and unmoved; she had it all settled that
the letter was to tell her of his marriage.
She read down the first page, her face
changing with every word. Her mother
watched her breathlessly, as if she, too,
was reading the letter by reflection in her
daughters face.
At last Emmeline looked up at her
mother. She was radiant; she was trying
to keep from smiling. lest she betray too
much; but she could not help it. She
looked blissful and shamefaced together.
"Mother-he amt married after all: and
he says it's all right about the hair; and
he's coming homa!"
Charlotte's face was radiant as her
daughters, but she said: "Well, what do
you think now? After you've been such an
ungrateful girl, blaming your mother, an
falkin' to her as you did this mornin', l
should think you'd be ashamed You
don't deserve it,"
Emmeline got off the bed: with her let
ter in her hand she went over to her mother,
and kissed her shyly on her soft old cheek.
Pm real sorry | spoke 50, mother. MARY