The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-03-28
SUSY'S BLUE GINGHAM.

longed to John Van Nechten, and stood,
in its old-fashioned whitcness, with its
gable end to the road. In front of thc
wing was what John always called a
s'stoop," perhaps the only reminiscence
of his far away Dutch ancestry. The
stoop was the committee room, and the
committee consisted of John, his wife
and the'r sister Anna.
1t was early June, and nine o'clock of
abright moonlight night, and they were
discussing whether or not Susy should
20 to the seashore for two months. Anna
had brought the question with her from
her school in town. GAS told you,"
she now said, superintendent telton
had invited the Governor to visit the
school that day, and, of course, we were
all in q futtcr. That is, inside. Out
side, the school was in beautiful order.
Miss Forsyth, my assistant, knows Gov
ernor Fairfax very we'll. She was a
friend of his wifc's before she died,
several years ago. In fact she is to go
to Spruce Bea h this summer with his
little girl, to mother, you know. She
would give Sue the best of care"
"If ,ould see her." began t[rs. Van
Vechten, doubtfully.
81 can arrange that. I know Miss
Forsyth would bring Alice Fairfax
here"
but how did he know you were any
relation to Susy:"
''That came about very naturally.
Miss Forsyth introduced me as Miss Van
Vechten, and Mr. Fairfax remarked that
he met little glrl name1 Van Nechten
under rather peculiar circumstances last
summer. He told me little of the
story, and l knew the heroine must he
our Susy, for l had heard something of
the same sort before. And in a few days
Miss Forsyth told me about this plan.
lido hope you will let Sue go"
'But we don't know Governor Fair
fax, Anna"
s'Neither do I-mu b." Aunt Annals
face blushed and changed in the moon
light, and an inward protest went with
her words. 'But l do know Miss For
syth, and Susy couldn't possibly he in
better hands for two months"
"And make next summer without
any seashore harder than this summer
with it,"
"No, indeed, it will not" The
bright-eyed little woman spoke posi-.
lively. "Our little girl is not made of
that kind Of stuff. Widen a life once,
and it stays wider, and 50 can take in
more, wherever it is"
Mrs. Van Eechten's face looked puz-
zled, but not ill-pleased.
''She lasn't anything to wear, Anna"
II never expected to live long enough
to hear you say that! 1t does my COM
monpla e soul good But, seriously, I'll
take care of that, if you will let me. In
fact, it is already taken care of. Tell
me I may tell her to morrow, Mary
II suppose you may" answered the
mother, doubtfully, as her sister lighted
q night. lamp.
"We >hll have our summer in a light
house yet, mother, said John, cheerily,
after Anna had gone upstairs. That is,
if can find a lighthouse to let"
Mr.. Van Nechten was not TYPICAL
Amerit an farmer His nose was not IN
familiar with the smell of new books. He
really liked the outside of the kitchen
best for his wife, and the outside of the
uOu>S DCllGI Stlll- III lllhI CuNt ollC W 40
never without a deputy in what he called
''the internal regions" if it were in his
power to obtain one; but the capital was
not quite in proportion to the number of
acres, so the coast of Maine, whit b their
Western souls longed for, was, as yet, an
impossible luxury.
aunt Ann;Ls,,t on the stoop next morn
ing, with piece of dainty work, when
little girl on horseback, wearing o
rather short longskirt of dark blue,
dashed up to the gate, and round to the
barn, from which she presently came
with parcel.
"You've never told me the story of how
You came by your pony, Sue"
Haven't l! But you know2"
'tYes, in sort OF way, but not very
we'll. Tell ME all about it after you take
off your habit"
''All right" called the little girl, al
., ready disappearing within the doorway.
ssIf mother doesn't want me WILL
ITO begin with, Aunt Anna, I just
hate blue cinghams! Sometimes [ feel
like whole charity school. If mother
would only let me have calico, then this
summers dresses wouldn't be lust eX-
actly like last summers. Well, it was
last Fourth Of July; 'Forch O. Duly
Danny calls it.
Il went over to Kate Stevcns's in the
morning, and she had the beautifulest
white dress on! 1t was just full of trim
ming ruiiles and tucks and embroidery,
and she had Roman sash, and bangs.
1t was mean, wasn't it2 She waited till
the night before. after schoo', so the girls
wouldn't know, and then had her hair
banged so she'd look her best.
s'Don't you think a dress is prettier the
more trimming there is Gu it9 Well, I
do, and Kate's was lovely! You SEE, I
had on my everlasting blue gingham, but
hadn't thought word abont it., The
leaves danced about so, and the sun
shone so bright, and I had been so busy
crac,:ing my torpedoes, that I just hadn't
time to think whether | looked well
enough to go to the Fourth.
"You ought to have seen these steps
wished hadn't cracked so many when
mother male me sweep them up, and
Danny kept throwing on the clean spots
just as fast as swept.
"Mamma had put up the lunch. We
had ham sandwiches. l helped chop
the ham, because the knife was sharp; if
it had becn-dull, wouldn't have wanted
to. And jelly cake, and hard boiled
eggs, ard cold coffee in q jug, with the
cream and sugar all in. Mother lets me
have that Christmas and Thanksgiving g
and Fourth of July and such days. And
ginger-snaps.