Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1888-06-09

goa Wleu cOOkeQl IOdSteu III tHC
ashes, she would call out in her gen.
tie and trembling voice, Come on, my
honey, de vittles is hot and handy" and
then Uncle Price would sit up on the edge
of the bed, his wife would ''set him up
btu with clean ''hankicher, and to-
gether they would eat their breakfast.
How still the little dingy room would be!
You could hear the chicks pecking about
on the front porch, the young birds chirp-
ing in the trees, the shouts Of Mis- juicy
Robinson's five woolly headed sons as
they fished for crawf1sh for their mas
dinner in the gutter at the end Of
the lane Uncle Price sat on the edge OF
the bed, with the table drawn up in front.
His head was as white as the wool On
bisoue doll His shirt was blue and clean
and his pants were of all colors, being
patched into a resemblance to a crazy
Quilt. Strips of red flannel were tied
about his wrists and ankles to keep off
the rheumatism, and he always carried
half a dozen matches and couple of
nails stuck in the wool over his / ear,
SO that they would be handy for the ''old
owman."
Uncle Price sopped his corn bread in his
coffee on this particular morning, and as
he did so said sadly: Pears lax de baby
amt gwine come to bre kfas' no mo-
''WeIl, she mout, an den gin she
moutn't," Aunt Betsey answered, having
no notion of committing herself to be-
lief one way or the other.
Just then there was terrible noise out
on the porch; the little cabin quaked Wis
IDLY. Somebody began to tumble and
pull at the door latch, finally lifting it
with desperate tug, and the baby, ac-
companied by her three dogs, TootS,
Baboo and Jake, walked gravely into the
room.
Such funnie little lassie as it was that
battered in; her bare feet all wet with the
dew, with nothing on but her ruff1ed,
cross barred nightgown, and her yellow
hair like soft little furze, standing out
all over her head, all the world like
dandelion gone to seed. Her dogs, as dis
reputable lot Of CANNES as ever lived,
Baboo being long bodied, low in stature
and fearfully bowlegged, had been all
dressed up in bibS and collars, and looked
miserable in consequence. But they
skunk faithfully az her bare heels and en-
dured the pins that stuck into their necks
with doglike devotion.
The baby stepped ina little 3-year-old
rrInaway-and as the big door opened a
trailing robe of warm, white sunshine
followed after her, and spread out a fine
court train about her feet.
Betsey picked the child up, and she and
Price kissed her, and then as she sat her
down on the table along with the two
stored coffee pot, the plates and the yell
low disks of corn bread, she said to her:
"Ain't l done tole yer yer mus'n be
comm down hyar no mo dis time in de
mawnin in yer night gownd and yer bar
feet? ScandaliZin' Miss juicy Robinson
and keepin' me on de aidge O. torment
bout yer gittin' snake biti Drink yer
cau-fee, honey" And Betsey held the
yellow bowl to the baby's mouth. With
out word the small one took her scold-
ing and her "cau-fee.' 1t was a funny
sandwich the three made-the two old.
wrinkled black faces, glowing with love
and bacon grease, bending over the milk
white slip of a child, who eyed them
fondly and took impartial bites Of their
corn bread and sups from their bowls.
To Price and Betsey ''the baby was as
dear as if she had been their very own.
Betsey had always been the child ''mam-
N.Y." and related with pride, at least once
every day, how she had been ''the fuses
one what toch dat chile" And the devo-
ton begun on mammy's breast had never
been lessened. For her Uncle Price had
trapped popbirds and mockingbirds; for
her he had cut the lid off Of his treasured
cowskin trunk and made it into q
cradle; for her was the best in the cabin
the prettiest chicken, the browneSt egg;
and when the old man hobbled up to the
big house one day with a noble gift of
bantam hens and a tiny rooster, nobody
dared ask how he had come by them, for
Price had always boldly declared that he
would go through fire and water for the
ckild-a VOW that, translated, probably
meant hens roosts.
When at the cabin the childs vernacu-
lar was that of her hosts She seemed to
drop into it uncOnsciously, and SO when
the meal was over and the things cleared
away, and Uncle Price fixed in his chair
by the window, and Betsey had put on
her brass rings, the baby said, You
gwine way, mammyP'
II amt gwine no furder den 20 mars.
honey. Mammy's got to step out in dc
sun an soople up her ole bones. You kin
stay hyar longside 20 Uncle Price twell
gifts back
1t was not the first time the two had
been left to keep each other company
while Betsey was off in the sun ''sooplin
up her old bones," and this old black
dying December and the fair, sweet baby
May were well pleased to be left ''settin
together on de wheel o time" as Uncle
Price would say
The old fellow sitting by the window,
the warm sun like rug over his knees,
the milk white child clasped in his feeble
arms, was as happy as the day is long.
What wonderful tales he told her of how
he was going up into the clouds, sail on
the golden sea, and finally come to ''our
Father in Heaven" and of how Le was
going to see and be with the baby's own
papa, the young 'Marse Jim," who had
died a year before.
'Ef | write my papa letter, will you
take it straight off TO him. asked the
child.
Yes, honey, sho I will I use ter
kyarry de mail reg lar bout fifty er forty
years ago"
And SO the child slid down, and went
to the old abandoned cradle in which her
nanny kept playthings for her visitor.
She fished out some rumpled scraps of
paper, stub of d'pencil, and then
sprawling down on the floor, in the midst
of her patient dogs, she set to work to
write her letters TO papa. How busy she
was, and how fast she covered the dirty
bits of paper with her little scrawlings,
folding them up and crowding them into
Uncle Prices hand, Who has not seen
such letterss who has not written such
letters that can only be read with the
eyes of the heart, but when read reveal
baby wants and wishes, condolences and
secrets, hopes and hints about candy, and
"a Clore't