Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1885-11-04

| good looks, Olive" exclaimed the lOung-
ing widower, In irrepressible admiration
"You seem hardly day older than you
did fifteen years ago. I've changed
outwardly more'n you have, but I've
just as warm place for you in my
heart as had then"
| An uncomfortable warm place it must
have been, provided Mr.. Varney's face
at that moment truthfully registered its
thermal condition.
Thank you. I'm glad TO keep all my
old friends" quaived Miss Olive, with a
cautious emphasis upon the pronomical
adjective.
"But / want to be more than one of
your friends, Olive, / want to be your
husband" urged her lover, holder
than in the days of his bashful indoles-
| cence.
Don't, Luther-you mustn't. I'm too
| old TO change my mode of life"
"Oldp How can you talk so, Oliver
don't feel old at forty-fve, and you're
only forty"
.Thirty-nine, corrected the lady, with
noteworthy zeal for truth. "But don't
ask me to marry, Luther. I'm welded
to the old house, like the very moss on
the roof"
"Do let me speak, Olve-do, beg"
pleaded Mr.. Varney, in the soothing
tone he habitually adopted with the fair
sex, as if intimate companionship with
the departed Pamela had brought him
to regard woman as being to be paci-
| fled.
Thus gently cntreated, Miss Olive
could but listen to the tale of his YOUTH
full love for her budding anew, and only
the more vigorous for its early nipping.
She listened, not unmoved, though her
prudish lips belied her.
"Refect upon it,. Olive. Take time
to consider" implored the willy lover,
with an appealing gesture injurious to
his cause, for the appraised hand dis
closed ring that had been Pamelas
gift. Could she, Olive Meserve, accept
bereaved husband--she who had
vowed, in season and out of season, that
she would never marry anybody, least
of all widowerp Hymen forbid! What
a stir it would makep
mo, no, Luther; let's not talk any
more about it,, she cried as if forgiving
an affront. "On no consideration"
A wall from without cut short the
sentence. Blood-stained and affrighted,
Master Willie rushed wildly in, shrek
ing. "Oh, papa! papa! I've most cut
my finger off! Oh, papa! papa!'
"Dear, blessed little lamb!" ex-
claimed kind-hearted Miss Olive, head
ing he procession to the kitchen sink.
ats his seventh birthday, and gave
him a jacknife. might have had more
Judgment" said the remorseful parent,
bathing the ugly cash with clumsy ten
derness.
"Oh, papa, you hurt" cried Willie,
hopping on one foot
Eyes, yes, sonny. It's too bad. but
papa can't help it," groaned Mr.. Var
ney, nearly as agtated as the child, sole
survivor of five, and the apple of his
fathers eye.
Wincing at the mans awkwardness,
Miss Olive quietly supplanted him, di-
verting the boy with n highly dramatic
story while she deity bound up the ach-
ing finger.
"What knack you have with chill
dren, Oliver" remarked Mr.. Varney,
pensively leaning against the pump.
81 learned something of surgery from
father" responded she, with brisk ir-
relevance, checking herself in the act of
smoothing Willie's ruflled hair Tien
she cast despairing glance ut the horse
tethered at her gate, where all the world
might see. Before shutdown it would
be rumored from Dan to Beershcba that
she and Mr.. Varney were making
bargain" Had he no regard for the
speech of peoplep
Lets 60, papa. I'm hungry" cried
the boy, OPPORTUNITY.
''Run right along, sonny; I'll follow
in a minute" was the craft reply.
But as nimble wItted Miss Olive
straightway speedcd after the boy with
three cookies, the discomltted father
was forced TO say adieu in his presence.
IL can't help hoping you'll change
your mind yet, Olive" was his parting
remark. "Sonny, can't you thank the
lady?"
The unframed boy hung his head, but,
as his mortified father secured the check
rein, shyly whispered in Miss Olives ear:
IL like you, lady"
Miss Olive was touched. What bonny
blue eyes the engaging little fellow had!
just like his fathers. All, if she were
younger, less set in her ways, how she
could love him!-the child, of course.
How she should enjoy making him balls
and kites, and teaching him to honor his
father, the best man in the world! Poor
Luther had had sorry life of it.
He deserved well-ordered home, il
ever mortal did. "But he might have
known wouldn't be so ridiculous as to
marry at my time of life," unused she,
Inn ~, hn ell
where the cat lay curled up on her un-
finished rug. "Fm thankful Climena
wasn't round when he called"
In her dreams that night little Willie
leaned upon Miss Olives pillow sobbing
because "the lady had been naughty to
his papa and the next morning he
appeared in the flesh, his finger inflamed
by a cold taken in dabbling in his aunt
Bowen's horse-trough. "Would Miss
| Olive do something to make it betterp
Oh dear! he wished papa had not gone
home"
Luther was right; the little waif does
need MOTHER" thought plying Miss
Olive, skillfully dressing the throbbing
member.
But were there not, alas! hosts of lit
tic boys needing mothers, and did she
not contribute to orphan asylums all she
was ableP Why should she distress
herself over this Individual casep Still,
it did seem especially forlorn to think
of Luther's child as mothcrless. In her
loving sympathy so happy did she make
the boy that he came the next day and
every day, though his healing finger fur
nished no further pretext for the visits.
DpDrpcatinU Oossin Mise Olive In Il nore
than once been known on the approach
of callers TO hustle the winsome little
lad into the kitchen to Climena. Des-
pite her precautions, the villagers began
to talk about herself and Mr.. Varney
In the ambiguous phraseology of the
district, they affirmed that Mr.. Varney
and Miss Mescrve chad an understand
ing between them" Indeed, this halved