The Evening critic. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1881-1885, 1885-04-07
A SITL.ATION.

"Well, girls" said my Uncle Bsrnabas,
and now what do you propose to do about
il p
We sat around the fire in a disconso-
late semi-circle that .droary, drlzzling May
night-when the rain battered against the
window-panes and the poor little daflo-
dis IN the borders shook and shivered as
if they would fain hide their golden heads
once more in the mother soil-my mother,
Eleanor and /.
Uncle Barnabas Berkelin sat la the middle
of the circle, erect, stiff and rather grim.
He was stout and short, with grizzled
mustache, a little round bald spot on the
crown of his head and two glittering black
eyes that were always sending their dusky
ightnings in the direction least expected.
Uncle Barnabas was rich and We were
poor. Uncle Barnabas was wise in the ways
of the world, and we were inexperienced.
Uncle Barnabas was prosperous in all he
did, while If there was bad bargain to be
made we were pretty sure to be the ones to
make it. Consequently, and as matter OF
course, we looked up to Uncle Barnabas and
reverenced his opinions.
What do we propose to do about it ~
Eleanor slowly repeated, lifting her beauti-
full jetty brows.
Yes" that's exactly it, said my mother,
neryously because, Brother Barnabas,
we don't pretend to be business women, and
it's certain we can't live comfortably on our
present income. Something has got to be
DONE"
~ suppose your girls are educated"
said Uncle Barnabas. 81 know | found
enough old school bills when | was look
ing over my brothers papers,"
"Oi course said my mother, with evil
dent pride; their education has been most
expensive. Music, drawing, use of the
globes"
"Yes, yes of course" interrupted Uncle
Barnabas. But is it practical? Can they
teachY ?"
Eleanor looked dubious. | was quite
certain that ! could not. Madame Lenoir
amid all her list of accomplishments, had
not included the art of practical tuition.
"Humph" grunted Uncle Barnabas
Queer thing this modern idea OF educa-
tion. Well, well, If you can't teach you
can surely do something. What do you say
Eleanor, to situaton2'
"a situation?"
The color huttered in Eleanors checks
like pink and white apple-blossoms.
81 spoke plain enough, didn't ~ said
Uncle Barnabas, dryly. eyes, a situation"
What sort of a situation, Uncle Barna-
bss?
well, ! can hardly say. Part servant,
part companion TO an elderly lady" ex-
planned the old gentleman.
"Oh, Uncle Barnabas, couldn't do
that"
80 you won't tako the situation, eh 4"
said Uncle Barnabas, staring up at a wishy-
wasby little water.color drawing of Cupid
and Psyche, an exhibition piece of poor
Eleanor's, which hung above the chimney
piece.
"Fcouldnt indeed, sir"
Sorry" said he. Sister Rachel to my
mother "What do yOn say ?"
My mother drew her pretty lttlo figure
up trife more erect than usual.
81 think my daughter Eleanor is quite
right said she. The Berkelins have al
ways been ladies'"
had sat quito silent, with my chin in
my hands, during all this family discuslion
but now | rose up and came creeping to
Uncle Barnabas' side.
"Well, little Susy," said the old gentle
man, laying his hand kindly on my wrist,
what is it?"
III you please, Uncle Barnabas, said /,
with rapidly throbbing heart, 81 would
like to take the situation
Bravo cried Uncle Barnabas.
my dear child ~ exclaimed my mother.
''Susannah y uttered Eleanor in accents
by no means laudatory.
"Yesp said /. Twenty five dollars a
month is a great deal of money, and never
was afraid Of work. ! think will go to
the old lady, Uncle Barnahas. I'm sure
could send home. at least SEQ q month 10