The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1888-09-28
LITTLE MISS PRIM.
The Story of Her Life-Happy Re-
turn of Her Lover.

Gray, angry-looking clouds obscured
the blue sky, a cold east wind blew
tiny particles Of snow into the faces of
those persons who were so unfortunate
as to be exposed to the cutting blast.
warm fire and comfortable easy
chair were things to be appreciated,
an so thought the Laurence family
as they stood or sat around the great
blazing logs of hickory in the open
fireplace of the luxurious sitting
room at Pleasant Park, the old home
stead of the Laurences.
Harry, the eldest boy, tall, bright
eyed lad of fourteen, went to 'Ne win
dow that looked out upon t. high
way. 1t was nearly school-tim-. and
troops of boys and girls were passing
swiftly along in the direction of the
huge brick edifice, the pride of Fair
mount.
Lizzie, Johnny, come here" cried
Harry, and his handsome countenance
beamed with merriment as he gazed
upon the scene without. A lady not
much taller than Lizzie, the twelve
year-old sister of the merry youth at
the window, was walking, or rather
trying to, for the slight figure swayed
from one side of the road to the other,
beaten and blown by the high winds;
and the umbrella she carried was
turned inside out, while her long gray
hair was floating like d banner in the
wintry breeze. The girl and boy ran
to the pretty alcove, with it's snowy
lace curtains Topped back, showing the
stand of plants bright with bloom, and
joining in the laughter caused Mr.. and
Mrs. Laurence to look up from their
reading to inquire the cause of so
much mirth.
"Oh, mother, you ought to see the
capers little Miss Prim is cutting; old
Boreas makes her move lively" said
Master Harry, and even his parents
could hardly suppress smile as they
saw the ludicrous figure the poor
dressmaker made in her vain, en-
deavors to keep her feet and avoid the
rude embrace of the northeast gale.
Jimmy, but she is scarecrow," said
little Johnny. Wonder what she goes
out such stormy days forp"
why, my son, Miss Prim is poor and
is obliged to earn her own living. She
has no kind papa to give her nice warm
clothes, or provide her with food, as
you have. 1t is not right to laugh at
the little woman, for she has hard
life of it, and is so patient and kind in
every trial, and Mrs. Laurence
patted the soft curls of her six-year-
old boy, mentally thanking God that
she and her dear ones were free from
the curse of poverty.
at is nearly nine O'clock cried
Lizzie, CHANGING at the huge, old
fashioned time-piece that licked away
so unsteady in the corner of the room.
81 will take Johnny with me, mother,
md then one umbrella will shelter us;
Harry is large enough to take care of
himself. " So saying Lizzie arrayed
herself in her warm cloak, hood and
f1rs, looking like the pictures of Little
Rod Ridinghood, with brown eyes
shining and cheeks rosy with health.
lust as the three children descended
the steps to the garden, the huge iron
gate changed to, and Miss Prim met
them on the broad graveled walk.
Mamma at home, BlossomPn said
the little lady in cheerful tone to
Lizzie, and at the same time laughing,
as she saw the half-concealed smile on
the faces of the children. sYou
rogues! you might just as we'll shout
and laugh at the funny figure / cut.
/ shall not feel at all hurt. know ]
am perfect scarecrow, but no matter,
my beauty will not suffer-" And with
a nod and goodbye, dearies,i not
waiting for an answer to her question
Miss Prim vanished within the open
doorway, and the children fastened tc
school.
Miss Charity Prim-or Miss Chatty,
as she was called-was the village
dressmaker. She was maiden lady
thirty-five or forty years of age, small
and delicate in appearance, but always
in good health Her face was always
smiling, her soft, blue eyes mild an6
pure as those of a child; her abundant
hair, long and silken, crowned hel
head as with coronet of silver.
II thought would come and finish
thai dress OF yours, Mrs. Laurence, ,
said Miss Chatty, as she entered the
firelighted room, the warmth and glow
making such contrast to the gloon
without. am little late, but had
hard time of it, fighting the wind all
the way from the cottage. My umbrella
is wreck, and look as though hat
been in a gale, and was flying the flas