Afro-independent. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn. ;) 1888-1???, 1888-09-22

The old woman sat listening, her
jaw let down little, her eyes unspec-
ulaiiv5 and wide, as OF one who waits
In thick darkness for his vision TO
frame itself to the gloom.
Veranda ratified on, her needle keep
ing pace with her tongue. its steely
CLEAN seeming kind of material pro-
lection OF the thin metallic tones.
Uncle Henry's mighty pleased to
think thar's chance o. our gittin'
shet o. the house at fair price; he
thinks We never in the Twin world
could palm 1t off on any person 'cept
the railroad men. Them steps nd faze
any one. and the house needs repairs;
some o. the shingles on the kitchen
roof are turned up like they wuz
thirsty, an most know tharss some
palms off the fence some'eres, fer |
run out one o. Briggs hens this morn
I'M she chuckled at me rale sassy"
Surprised at her grandmother's ST.
lence, Veranda bent curious gaze
on the drawn old face, fnrrowed and
rutted like a country road. Mrs.
Giltner had taken off her mitts, and
was smoothing the half-fngers in an
absent way. When Yeranda, asked
her what she thought of the matter
she looked down at her open palm as
II the subject lay In the hollow; then
she said, slowly:
II don't seem to rightly ha'bor the
idee; faint got clar thoo my head yit.
Kind OF odd. Meb by I'll git to sense
1t more ef lay down an rest some.n
She got up and walked feebly into
her bedroom, stopping once before the
small glass over an old dresser crack
ing under innumerable coats of var
nish, as II she wished to assure herself
OF her own reality by viewing her
face. Then she went on TO the front
window, where a green shade hung.
a fat tassel depending from it like an
uprooted weed; she rolled the curtain,
slipping it through loop of dingy
cord, and stood looking down the
cliffy yard and into the quiet street be-
yond.
The sun was gone down, but there
was downy crimson on the dark hills
where his head had lain.
Mrs. Giltner always came to this
window at sunset that she might see
the western skies cast the morrow's
horoscope, and though she was now
something jostled from her senses,
the old habit prevailed with her.
'Red fer PROMISE she muttered;
''m-m. TIN be u good wash-day to-
morrer. Let's see; Verandy wuz sayin'
somethin'-meb by it'll come to me
arter lay down"
As she lay in her lofty bed that
night, propped nearly to a sitting
posture with great pillows, it came To
her with such force as kept her wake
full into the lessening hours. As they
sat at breakfast the next morning she
made known the result of her ponder
ing.
Il thought some on whut you told
me, Verandy, an I'm goin' to tell
Henry thet I've bout decided not 10
sell, even eff the railroads thinks o.
tradin' with me-"
"Why, gra'maw!"
81 amt a-goin to sell. Don't talk no
more bout 1t. You got too much sody
in the biscuits, Verandy; your man'll
git the soggiest bread he ever put in
his mouth. promise him thet"
She was carrying of her inconsist-
ency with an irritable air, and Veranda
wisely held from further speech.
After day or two Henry Giltner
came to talk over things. He was
plump, elderly man, whose form as he
rolled up the path bore striking re-
semblance TO crescent with the hol-
low at his back; his jovial face had a
yellow-gray beard, rayed around his
mouth like the spokes of a wheel.
He was hardly over the threshold
before his mother forestalled her deci-
sion by shaking her head with solemn
emphasis. "rTain't wuth while to
waste words. Henry; amt keeriu' TO
sell"
"verandy told you, did shee
might of known she would! Whut's
tibet bout not wantin' to sellp Why,
you've spent your hull life frettln' over
them steps, mother"
II amt keerin' to SELL"
"But-m
am kind o. uset TO them steps now;
they're rale pretty-lookin' this time o.
year; thar's little messy things peek
in thoo the chinks; see EN- yistiddy;
some OF 'em he'd red spots on. Take
The hottest spells we've ever he'd, you
kin alwuz ketch breeze on tibet top
step. | dun know | ever took any
exceptions to 'em nohow--to speak
off,
well, l lodged you'd be pleased out
o. tongue 10 git the old place of your
hands. The railroad men hev offered
a mighty square price for it. I'm tur-
rible sorry you feel this way about 1t.
mother. for the roads goin' clean
through this lot; it'll go caty-corner
through the house.
.sfhoo the-the houser'