Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1888-02-04

| remonStrance was spoken, not ENORMOUSLY
not anxiously, in dull, grim, even way Of
her own. "Take an bide in, can't zee
IS no good to be got in tn streets. An
Jim dom like to see zee. Get an apern an
sit down decent"
Cas- had some rudimentary notion Of
filial Difference, but none Of wifely. She
opened drawer in the counter and took
an apron and some needlework therefrom
and donned the former as symbol of de-
cency, whilst she threaded a needle with g
yard of cotton. So much was in Difference
to her mothers preudices; but she pro-
tested against her lovers.
off Jim don like my ways" she said
leaning against the wall to sew, and put
ting visible stitches in some cotton gar.
ment, and speaking with little jerk be-
tween the stitches, " l amt so bent on
marryin' with jim"
He's stiddy man." said Mrs. Brady
cheerlessly, in an absent minded way, as
one who speaks in the present with her
thoughts in the past. "They'm none SC
easy found"
L" If Jim thinks l care" said Cass, incon-
sequently, but fercely, 81 don't. Jim's
took up with tn preachin' now"-jerk, and
a bigger stitch than usual in the white cal
leo" he'd bes' marry one of they"
Mrs. Brady was sewing, too, slowly and
monotonously, with an action as unlike her
daughters as was possible. "There was
yer father" she said; shed never a good
ness, he drinked 'nself to death, an that
you know"
There was a moral somewhere connected
with these "reminiscences, but Mrs. Brady
was too depressed to point it clearly Cas-
pursued her own line of thought I'M
checked.
"There's Emily" she said. eff he wants
saint he'd best take up with Emily. Pm
willin'."
Conversation between Cass and her
mother tended to become soliloquy. Mrs.
Brady took up the thread of her own re-
Elections. "The life | led with N p she
said. /" If tn Lord d sin fit to take n
twenty years afore He did, 'twould been
for tn best, an I'd been thankful. But
there l lived with n; nobody else knew
n in same way. But Jim, he's stiddy
man."
Cass smiled a little involuntarily and
drew out her cotton with more gentieness.
1t was not unpleasant to her to hear Jim's
praises sung.
IAN serious thinkin'," added her mother.
Hes was fond o 'ee-a while back he was.
Em'ly's quieter spoken an not so took up
wi tn men,"
If there were gaps in her mothers train
OF reasoning Cas- was quick-witted and
| filled them up. She was seized with a
sudden restlessness and took her needle
work to the door, where, however, it was
too dark to sew. The wind swept in
coldly from the sea and blew about her
hair and her dress She put up her arms
and clasped her hands behind her head
and looked up the street, where the lights
seemed brighter. Presently came step
she knew, and she turned quickly and
| looked out at sea into the darkness.
The step was firm and heavy-not a
slothful and not a hurried step-the step
of man with goodly length and strength
of limb. 1t stopped where Cass was stand
ing in the doorway.
"Oh, it's you" she said, looking around
for moment and looking away again.
It's dull to-night-not a soul about"
The man before her was q tall, broad
| shouldered young fellow, who wore blue.
darned fisherman's jersey, and whose face
and throat and brawny hands and wrists
were tanned with sea air and sun. His
eyes were frank, straight-gIancing, I'M
compromising. His lips were firm and
little stern. Both eyes and lips looked as
though they seldom smiled
"Come indoors, Cass," he said, and he
spoke authoritatively and little YEARLY.
"Are you goin' in? | shan't then" said
Cass. ITS duller still indoors"
Jim took off his wooden cap and shook
the rain from it, and did not speak.
"Em'ly's indoors" continued Cas-: "you
can go an sit WI her. She's filter company
n me. | amt no saint an | don't set to
| be-"
There's nothin' to be proud of in that,
Cas-" said the man, with grave, perhaps
irritating forbearance.
Il don't know" said Cass. "They'm a
poor set, poor, pasty-face' lot-if Em'Iy's
a pattern. I'd be ashamed to look on the
men like that, as though / was afeared on
mas though | expected m to make love
to me if l didn' turn down me eyes an
look ugly. I'd be ashamed to look a man
in TIL face if couldn' have me laugh with
n nat'rel, an cheek'n back when he
checked me-"
The rain came down in thick, heavy
drizzle. The tide splashed dismally against
the stones of the Hard Cass, with her
hands behind her head, stood looking out
and humming as though cheerful sun
was shining on a merry world. The song
she hummed was bit of a vulgar little
pantomime song, which the street bows
had been whistling all winter Jim looked
down on her, and in his mind was the pct-
ure of a different woman, gentler, softer
voiced, with auieter more retiring ways,
with graver thoughts and less worldly
smiles and laughter.
81 don know bout all that, Cass," he
said coldly; "but l know this-an' / say
this-Pd like the girl Pm marryin' to be a
modest an good woman, who'd mind her
home an bide there, an bring up her chill
dren to think Of other things than firtin'
an fnery an play-goin' An there's
where a man who married Emily d be
sure. An if you, Cas-"
But Cass interrupted him. She turned
upon him suddenly, her face crimson, her
eyes flashing.
you'd bes be off wi me now" she said.
"You'm tired of it-an'-an-I tired Of
it. We'd best have done wi one another
| "Maybe we'd BEST" said Jim slowly.
Cas- laughed; but the laugh had in il
more of bravado than of mirth or indiffer-
ence.
That's settled, then," she said. "You'm
free now to take up wi Emily I'm willin';
| shan't grieve."