Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1886-09-02
LOVE THE LITTLE ONES.
Apop,estlo rae


there was such thing as school and
lessons, when the kitchen window was
lung noisily up, and shrill
voice broke in upon their dreams OF
happiness.
Children come in out of that
meadow Don't you see how you're
tramping ali the grass down. scream
ID Mrs Hall
She was spare, hardfaced woman,
who was engaged in picking
\ huge pan OF beans at
The table, while her husband sat
opposite mending the dislocated leg OF
, milking stool with a pot Of glue and
some hempen Irvine.
"Now, mother, said Ebenezer Hall,
why can't you let these young 'uns
snjoy themselves? Their little feet
won't hurt the grass"
"That's just like YOU" said his wife,
luerulously "The children are al
ways in mischief, and you're continu.
ally upholding 'em. Didn't ] tell
Fanny to mend her apron the minute
school was over? And there she is,
| pudding in the brook, running her
dress sleeves. And Johns dog scratch
I'd up all my flowers in the back gar
len this morning. But / settled the
question:" she added, setting her
thin lips together like a steel trap. 81
gave the varmint to the tinker. He'll
neyer bother me any more"
''You oughtn't to have done that
mother" said Ebenezer Johnnie
was fond OF the dog.
John must make up his mind to
10 without him" said Mrs. Hall. g!
won't be tormented by anybody's
mischievous dog. And ] found a
Robinson Crusoe' hidden under little
Joes pillow this morning"
chats natural enough, mother"
said Ebenezer, alphabetically. "All
boys like story-books.
! Now | know the reason he never
could say his cateehiz," sharply added
Mrs. Hall. 1.-THE trouble those chill
lren make us can't be told. And I've
made up my mind to bind 'em out to
trades as soon as ever can"
"They'r re my darter's children, moth
En-" said poor Ebenezer. 81 can't
bear the idea OF partin' with EN-"
""rhen why don't you bring 'em up
to earn their own living, like other
paupers?" said Mrs. Hall, who had
been the farmers second wife, and
whose grabbed nature had never been
thawed out in the light of % baby's
smiles. "That's what want to know.
This amt goin' to be an orphan
asylum. Not ii / know it.
"If you feel so about it, mother, I'll
take 'em over to Cornelia Crashaw's, .
said Mr. Hall, whose face had grown
very grave. "CornelIa's husband
owes me money, and she's fond OF
children. She'll be good to 'em If my
own wife won't"
Good radiance to bad rubbish"
was Mrs. Halls tart retort, as she
flung the last handful of beans into
the pan. "But ii you really meant
tt"
81 do, most assuredly." said Eben-
ezer Hall, sternly. "Nelie's children
shall not be subject to unjust rebukes
OF tyrannical ill-temper while can
help It,"
"I've done the best | could" said
Mrs. Hall, with toss of her head.
But don't like children, and | never
lid!"
The three little Berkeleys did not
know what was the cause of the I'M
wonted gloom on grandpa's face at
5ea-time. They sat quite silent.
Grandma had always tried to impress
it on their minds that children must
be seen and not heard, and take their
tea, with longing glanees at the plum
FAKE, which was always cut in such
economical slices, and of which grand
ma never would allow them more than
one slice.
Mother" said the old farmer, when
the meal was over. "pack up the chill
lren's boxes tonight. / shall start
early in the morning."
where are you going, grandma
Johnny ventured to ask.
''To Cornelia Crashaw's," said Mrs.
Hall.
"Do you suppose she will let me
Keep my dog?" said Johnny, wistfully,
jor Tiger came hack there afterward
"Tiger won't stay away from me"
"Oh, good good" cried Fanny,
slapping her small brown hands
MRS. Crashaw always lets us play
where we please. And she gave me
handful OF roses the last time we went
there"
81 am glad, too" said little Joseph,
With kindling eyes. "AIrs. Crashaw
las got all the Vicar of Wakefield
and Pilgrims Progress and The
Arabian Nights in her cupboard.
saw them there once"
Mrs. Hall bit her lips. Indifferent
as she had professed herself to the
children, there was a drop of bitter
ness in their willingness to leave her.
Ebenezer was fond OF his grand
children, and 1t seemed hard to separ-
ate them. Had they, expressed a
single objection to going away her
neart might have melted. But as it
was, she only compressed her lips, and
Towned the gloomy frown which John
and Fanny and little Joe knew so
we'll.
The boxes were packed that night,
and early in the morning Ebenezer
and the children drove away.
Goodbye, children" she said,
standing on the doorstep, and shading |
aer eyes with one hand from the sun
shine. And they answered in shrill, |
sweet voices, Goodbye, grandma" |
But there were no tears, no loving |
words of farewell, no last clinging ca
he
that she cared for such things-but 1t |
:hagrined her little nowl
'Oughtn't we to have kissed grand |
MAJ" said Fanny, in whisper, as the
wheels ratified on.
"Oh, pshaw!" said Joe. 81 don't !
believe grandma knows how to kiss"
The house seemed strangely lone |
some when Mrs. Hall turned back in
20 the deserted kitchen.
al declare, said the old woman, az |
iidn't know how | should miss them.
I'm almost sorry now that"
And without completing her SEN
fence she went to the sink and began
20 wash the dishes.
From Cornelia Crashaw's house, Mr.
Hall was going up to London to see
about some farm business. Hewas to
De gone a week-and during all that
lime his heart ached whenever he
thought OF the empty little beds, the
iesolate hearthstone athome.
1t was @ sultry afternoon when he
irove up once more to the old farm
house. To his amazement, Fanny,
Johnny, and Little Joe, with the
aithful dog, Tiger, at their heels, all
rushed, shouting and laughing, out to
meet him. And there was not single
Uprising "Hush-sh.shv' from Mrs.