The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1888-04-07
TIE YOUNGEST SISTER
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

1 y
things always happen cross-grained."
whats the matter nova" said
Georgia, the eldest sister, who, with a
blue apron of checked domestic Cing-
ham tied around her waist, aad her
luxuriant flaxen hair confined in a red
bandanaa pocket handkerchief, was
cooking tomatoes for kctchup.
"Why, here have the Morefields
come to spend the day, and mamma has
jus: taken to her sofa with Al attack OF
neuralgia, and THERE'S nobody on earth
to so to the train to meet the city board
or. You couldn't go, George, 1 sup
posea"---with faint CLEAN of hope.
Georgia glanced Up at the clock, and
shook her head.
''Couldn' tpossibly," said she. There
isn't time to get ready. Why don't you
send Peterl'
peter, indeed! He's cleaning the
cistern out Such figure as he isl"
"Then I'm sure" observed Georgia,
'Idon't see what you are going to do
Couldn't I go, Katc'" pleaded a
small, sweet voice.
And the second Miss Blessington be-
came conscious of some one pulling
gently at her sleeve. She turned
sharply around. A tall, rosy girl stood
there-a girl just arrived at the age
where ''brook and river meet" half
child, half woman, but infinitely pretty
In both her personalities. Sunbu-ned,
dark-eyed, clad il an outgrowa calico
frock, and with her hair braided into
one long, gold-gleamlng queue behind,
she stood there. with an imp oring face.
"a good idea.' sail Georgia, tasting
of the bubbling scarlet mass in the ket-
tie, and adding trife NOR, red pepper.
Let Chrissy go"
''But Chrlssy can't drive"
ooh, yes, l CAM urged Christine, the
youngest and least prescntab,e of all the
Biessingtons. II drove old jerks up
from the farm yesterday with load of
pumpkins. I've often driven him when
you didn't know it. George"
ooh, you horrid tom-boyw sail
Georgia. ha!f-laughing.
But KITE CAV, little Chrissy a SQUAD
box on tae car. Her black eyes flashed
wrathfuly.
"Christinc," said she. "Tm ashamed
of you. You're disgrace to tn, family.
Don't howl now" (as Chrissy rubbing
her empurplci car, broke into an inliy-
nant wdlD. "Thc Morci Ids will hear
you. Go qu:ck--cct on your hat; and
mlad you doa't show yourself at the tea
table. Your new frocli isn't flashed,
and your old one isn't half decent; and
besides, you'll be needed in the kitchen
to wash dishes"
The tears dried Oh Chrissy's cye,ashcs
at the prospect Of driving oil jerks to
the depot all by herself.
She made haste to pull a white
worstcd polo cap over her rcbellous
hair, and to scramble into the rather
diiapilatcl buggy that was waiting at
the door.
"G't up. jerks she cried. brandish-
ing the whip with gleeful countenance.
''Pcte. I'm going to drive to the
depot
'A!l right, mis-" said Peter, who,
fresh from the depths of the newly
emp'i;d cistera, was holding old jerks,
as If there was any danger of that
ancient steel running away. "Drive
kccr!ui past Bowcry Lane i he arays
wants to turn in therc--and mind YOU
Keep tight grip o the rcins, if You
meet a load o barrel, or one O them
jan=lia' tin pc ldl.r'' wagons"
Away clattcrcd the venerable buggy,
old jerks falling into stlif trot like |
an automaton horse, and Chrissy
fairly radiant with delight.
'Bnt Katc oughtn't to have boxed |
my cars, " she poadercl, as the first Ella
ton subsidized. "Therc was NOTHING
wrong in driving the load Of pumpkins
home. came by the back road, and
nobody saw me. don't love Kate
nor Georgia neither. They're always
laughing at me and making fun of me,
Just because l grow so fast. They won't