The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-02-04


as she sat by the fire, joining at last the
completed waist and skirt.
"Well, what more do you find to do
to't?' affectionately inquired her mother,
as she bent to ladle out the Christmas
crullers from the kettle over the fire.
"I'm trying to set in pocket, ma, y
said Electa. "Aunt Hepsey told the
other day about fashion they have now
of setting the pocket right into the skirt
of the dress, and am trying to manage
it somehow"
"Lal child" and gentle mother Mill
ington's tone implied reproof. 81 wouldn't
be the fust to ventur so bold fashin /;
you must try not to banker AFTER the van
tiles of the world, Lecty."
81 think it beats losing my pocket off,
ma, and can't see the harm of trying it."
"You must be keerful of your behavior,
darter. 1 low I'm onreconciled to yer
goin' out SO rash-like inter the world. I
haint no opinion O. tavern balls. Don't
be too anxious about dancin' and don't
engage in no light and trifin' talk with
young men, and, for maesy's sake, don't
drink nothin' stronger'n water. Wiser
heads 'n'yourn hev been upset by warm
cider, hot flip, and sangaree. low dane
ms pretty pastime, but it's resky takin'
the night fort and eatin' and drinkin'
when folks orter be abed and asleep. I
shant sleep wink whilst yer away"
snow, mother Millington, if you are
goin' to take on 80, you'll spoil all my
happiness. If you let me go I'll be as
cross as the tithing man and make the
boys afraid of me. 1 won't eat nor
drink for your sweet sake, but dance 1
must, because I enjoy it SO that I couldn't
keep still, and you needn't blame me,
ma; for you've told me what store you
set by dancin', and I'm sure / take it
from you"
With these tilial promises and the hap
py reminder of earlier days, the last trace
of opposition disappeared as the last
stitch was set in the engaging dress. She
held it aloft for her mothers inspection !;
then giving it final little shake, to dis
lodge any bit of thread or particle of dust,
she ran upstairs with it over her arm to
hang it away, and to muse unmolsstedly
upon the coming time.
Electa Millington was not entirely
selfish, nor crazy for admiration, nor bent
solely upon good time, but this was a
wonderful first experience in her young
life. She had danced at the neighbor-
hood huskings few times, but to par
ticipate in a ball in the great old tavern,
into which she had never set foot except
once with her mother at the time of the
Seattle show" was an era in her existence.
She had often looked up at the ballroom
windows, which were securely covered
with wooden blinds, and tried to imagine
what was within. The ballroom still re-
manned to her as some deep rich mystery
which she longed to penetrate.
Now she stood at her glass, wreathlng
her brow and curls with yard and a
half of red chenille the color of her dress.
Next a little gold bosom pin, which had
been gift to her mother by her father
before they were married, representing
two little birds with beaks attached, was
polished with powdered chalk; fine old
linen lace that twenty-five years before
adorned the neck of her mothers we'd
ding dress, was lovingly inspected and
laid with the other waiting treasures;
and the immaculate handkerchief, trihe
starched for the occasion, was half shyly
deposited in the aforesaid pocket
There was little doubt that she would
do her share of dancing ON that evening.
What did she know of playing "wall-
flower" this girl with the kindest, dark
est, brightest eyes, the rosiest cheeks and
the frisk lest curling locks Of any girl in
town. Small need of diamonds and vel
vet sheen or "gloss of satir and glimmer
of pearls" to enhance the charms which
youth and health and sparkling beauty
had so lavishly bestowed.
As she closed the old red chest con-
tanning her treasures she wondered if
Thursday night would ever come. Twice
after tonight the sun must set before
the happy time would arrive. Rubbing
her little cold hands, she drew aside the
curtain and looked out into the storm.
Already the daylight was waning, and
lights shining on the snow told her the
kitchen candles we're lit and that her
mother would need her help.
The evening meal of smoking brown
bread and pork and beans was over, and
Farmer Millmgton sat with his family
around his ample hearth. Between him
and Ashael Bentley, the farm hand, was
huge basket of corn which they were
Smelling on the fiat edge of the long ham
died oven slice passed through the han
dies of the basket. Mrs. Millington sat
at her little wheel, busily spinning the
fax with which to weave the spring web
of family linen, and EIecta, having wash
ed the supper dishes, sat dreaming rosy
dreams to the click of her knitting nee
dies as they glistened in the rounds of the
blue-gray stocking she was fashioning
for her sire.
"This is the iercest storm yet" said
the farmer. "No human bein' has pass
ed this house since 10 o'clock. We shan't
be called on to keep no trampers tonight.
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