The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-12-26
MISS HOITT'S HARVEST.
BY OLIVE f.. DANA.

Miss Hannah Iioitt lived alone in q
wide old house that had sheltered the
families of her father and her grandfa-
ther before her. Its square, low ccllcd
rooms were peopled for her with precious
memories and tender associations. She
would not shut the sunlight quite ont OF
any OF them, so that they all retained
some pleasant look as of OCCUPANCY. Ana
the rooms she really lived in were bright,
restful, sun h.ny, with enough of the old
time ,uantuess to give them a peculiar
charm, and sufficient subscrviency to
newer fashions and fancies OF adornment
to assure you that the owner lived in TO-
day rather than yesterday.
Miss lloitt was mu h esteemed in the
little community of Milton as a woman
of means, of s,.nsc, of character, of gen
erous purposes and practices. The farm
had dwindled from its once broad area
OF tillage and meadow and pasture and
woodland, to less than sixty acres. Yet
it was large enough for her to manage,
for she carried it on herself, with as
careful and capable an oversight as was
exercised by any of her neiyhbors Oh
their domains. 1t was the standing
wonder of the ncighborhood and Of the
little town, ''how VI So Hannah could
manage so we'll" Every spring
the boldntss and magnitude o.
her ventures astonishcd them. Every
fall the quantity and quality of
III, cropsshc produced therefrom amazed
them still more. Her beans and corn,
her ca5bages and cucumbers and onions,
her beets aud her asparagus, nodded to
one another from their wccd!c>s rows in
triumphant luXuriance. Her berries
blu>hed in exultation. Her little or
chald dropped its rosy and golden fruit
gleefully. In truth, 1t was the garner.
Ing of her harvests that perplexed her.
She re eled in the long days when she
could dig and tend and wafer, and "see
the things grow" But when the days
grew short, aud the first frosts came, and
inc pumpkin vines grew black, and the
potato tops died, and she began to fear
for her tendeler fruit, then despair and
dismay began to I'LL her sonl. For then
her Housekeeping tasks were more oner-
Gus, her neighbors could seldom be hired
to help, and ''help," proper, was
"scarce." And, although Miss Hoitt
was no scold, and didn't know how to
whine, her voice was apt to grow
plaintive as she sometimes related her
anXicties.
Hers was bright and busy life, in all
its lovelinessS: and many weaker or
less horeful heart shared its sunshine.
She had not always expected to live thus
alone nee she had looked forward TO
far different life. Perhaps it had been
all the harder that her cwn hand had
put aside her joys. But she couldn't
have done otherwise, she would remind
herself. There was only she to take care
OF the age.ng father, the tuerulous
grandmother, the invalid siSter-all
gone from her long ago. And he, Allen
Mayna,d had his own brave life to live.
She would not let him waste any OF 1T
waiting. She had sent h IN away, and
perhap she had not told h m very clear
" the reason why. But she had never
ceased to think of him and pray for
him.
Over her low threshold, above which
hop vines grew and morning glorics
hung from dawn till noon their dewy
challces of purple and crimson and
white. came one late September after.
noon her nearest neighbor, and ono of
her dearest friends. Mrs. Stcrnc. She
was younger by few years than Miss
Holt. but loved, trusted, pct:cd, even
sometimes confded in, by the older
woman.
Come in, Lucy What's the matter,
child2 Something worries you; and
you're tired out, too. Now just so into
the sitting room and take the easy chair,
and l'll be in in a minute, Just as soon
as slip on ny other dress
"Ynu see," she resumed, little later.
coming back freshly attired, "l'vc tecn
trying to get in my grapes and pears,
and some of my apples. l had to begin
in season. and keep at it, little to a
time, and I'm wofully behind. hand now :;
and help can't seem to get, for every
body else is busy, too. Now, Lucy,
what troubles you, and what can do"
Il don't like to tell you, Hannah; you
have cares enough, without our rolling
any of ours on to you. But Lothian S
sister. I'm ly. she that married Swift,
is sick with typhoid lever, the real, rag
ing typhoid. They live over to Easton,
you know, and there's nobody. hardly,
to 90. but me and it seems rs if must
20 right off and stay till she's better.
And there's only Mary Nelson, and she
so young and needless, for all l've had
her year and done my best with her to
learn her to keep house. She could do
well enough for lothian and John, but
Jotham's got men a-coming right away
the thrcshers and carpenters to do his
barn. That can't be put off. And the
new superintendent in the mills. he pro.
missed certainly he'd board, lecauso he
used to know him, and it would be
handy and homelikc"
And you want rue to take 'em?''
0uericd Miss Hannah.
80 Miss Hannah! We do hate to ask or
let YOU. But what can VIC do? And
Jotham says he'll get all your apples and
potatoes and things in, in good season,
and be glad to, and you shall have good
pay for the men, if you only think YOU
could do It. And you don't know what
a relief it would be. You see, we've got
to take Emily's children home till shes
better"
''Well, I'll try it, and if nothing hap
pens guess can carry it through" :"
How ls it. ranuah." went on the
other, that most lone folks have enough
to do to take care of Themselves They
think people ought to do for them and
look out for 'em, and especially when
they get to middle age. Eut it's always
l.