The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1886-06-25
SELECT STORY.
THROUGH DEVIOUS WAYS.
BY ELLA w. PEATTIE.

promise of a bleak and rainy evening
| At the door of the house the wind wait
cd like sheriff to force an entrance.
Within four cousins sitting together in
the gray dusk were talking on sub
ject as full of matter to them as the
evening was of damp. The stove had
not yet been put up for the winter, the
muslin curtains hung limp at the win
| dows and the co(orless walls looked
like mounting sheets of mist, shutting
them out from all warmth and comfort
and gaiety. The cane-seated chairs,
placed geometrically against the walls
OF the room, were somewhat disarrang
ed now by the shivering persons, two
of whom sat wrapped in shawls, with
their elbows upon the centre table. A
girl, little older than these, paced up
and down the room with her arms fold
ed behind her She did not look old,
there were an activity and animation
about her that seemed TO defy even the
encroachments of an October in the
Northern Peninsula of Michigan. The
last member of the quart, tie was thin
young man with patient, cadaverous
face such as isolated farmers often
| wear
"The land amt worth SO an acre."
he was saying TO his companions, sand
| don't know as we'll have another
such an offer as we've got now. We
might as well sell and done with it. /
never was no hand for breaking up
wild lands anyhow
"Nor |, exclaimed the girl, who was
walking the floor mischievously. But
70 one paid any attention to her.
'lt might give Hattie and Nora
start down in town in the millinery or
dressmaking business or something
light and genteel. Neither of 'em amt
much Oh farmin', an | don't knows |
blamed 'em much.' The girls referred
to sat silent, with that Responsiveness
of which only an American woman is
capable when she demurs 81 don't
suppose David cares much what is done
with the land, but it wouldn't be right
for us to close the agreement till he
gets here, and he'll be here tomorrow
night at the latest. l thougbt-sure he'd
come tonight. My share will give me
a boost over the winter, for I'm not in
a state to sneeze at ready money.
What Margaret will do with hers l
can't say"
IL shall endow an asylum for indi-
gent cats, said the girl called Margaret
'lt might go quite away if it is ex-
pended for diluted milk, but l don't
think there will be enough to do much
else with
The cousins all looked little shock
ed at her flippancy. She was town
bred, and they had never gotten over
the idea that she might be little dan
gerous. For a long time after her
mothers death she had kept house for
her father, but when he too died she
came to the country to live with her
cousin Seth. lie and his sisters lived
on vast tract of land which their
father had dignitied by the name of
farm. When, worn out with his fight
with the elements and the soil, his
narrow old soul had left his toil-worn
body, his children found that his farm
was to be equally divided between
them, their orphan cousin, Margaret,
and the son of his youngest brother
This son was David, of whom Seth had
spoken, and he was i'll his last year at
Ann Harbor, having taken the law
course in the university. None of the
cousins had ever seen him, but they
knew that he had sufficient money to
relieve him from the pressure under
which they labored
"You speak as il you didn't want to
sell, Margaret, Now if you don't why
just pipe right out and let us know it,
81 can't help wondering, COZ, what
makes this man so anxious to buy. I'm
sure the land doesn't present an at.
tractive appearance at present. / cant
get over the idea that there is more tc
it than appears on the surface"
"Well, | haint no Judge of that
Margaret. I'm fair-dealin' man and
| don't look for nothin' but fair dealin
in others The two sisters looked al
Margaret as much as to say,"See there
now Blush for your suspicion" But
Margaret continued to look wise.
"Theres no use in waiting here long
er to night for David. If he had come
on that train surely he would have
reached hire by this time. I'm going
to the kitchen to pop some corn"
But the brother and sisters still
clung to the unaccustomed splendor o.
the "best room," and Margaret was
forced to go TO the kitchen alone
Margaret tied wide gingham apron
about her, coaxed the languid fire to {
generous blaze, brushed the hearth, Ii,
the lamp, drew the curtains, softly
singing all the while, and then sa
down with painful of ears of corn an(
briskly snapped the kernels from tn,
cobs. A few minutes later a shiverine
way yfarer pausing by the outer doo
heard the merry popping of the kernel
in the frying pan. He Knocked
"Come in y
He entered. The glow of the fir,
lit up her bright young face. Th
warmth, the light, the cracking of tn,
fire, and the popping of the corn mad,
a benevolent welcome.
"Are you Cousin Nora 7"
mo Dut you are Cousin David"
Il was never called David in my life
, | am Dave !"
81 am Margaret. Are you wet 2 l
it raining I"
"Raining 1t is doing nothing hal
so hearty or pleasant. The wind
like wet sheet. | am shivering.
He threw his coat off and revealed In
! slenderness of his figure. His eye
J were quick and sharp, his mouth firm
his expression reserved. Sue look
like very proud man." thought MAJ
: garet, as she went to call her cousin
from the parlor 81 wonder how he
: get on with Seth
I "My y exclaimed Nora, ''to thin
of his goin right into the kitchen
and you must have made an awfu
muss with the corn T.
sit seems a very good thing to bav
some relatives" said the young mar
or spreading his hands to the blaze whe
. Nora and Seth had set down by hiI