Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1889-02-22
ing him there alone.

ry to himself Il don't think / should
be man to require any more decided
rebuff than this! I've often heard
that women were full of tricks and ca
prices, but / did think that Matte
Popham was superior to the rest of
her sex. II they're all alike, then
here's an end Of it."
Pretty Lillian Tuft ran in that even
ing to borrow Martha's new checked
silk umbrella.
I'm going on picnic Thursday"
said she, with the dimples all dancing
about mouth and chin, Ito Spiderweb
Falls, with Harry Perry's folks from
the city. And my parasol isn't fit TO
carry. Harry asked ME himself. We
are to go in the carriage to the foot OF
the mountain and to walk the rest OF
the way. Won't it be fun? wonder
they didn't ask you"
Lillian was a fair-haired, balsam-
comple1ioned young girl, with blue,
wondering eyes and an infantins in
nocence Of expression.
Martha looked at her with a sudden
pang of dislike and jealousy.
Here is the parasol, said she, curt
ly.
"Oh, you're vexsd, amt your said
Lillian, with a cracking laugh. We'll,
of course, you know they can't ask
everybody, and perhaps they may
have some more picnics before the
the parasol I'll be very careful with
it."
And away she went, great confu-
sion of flying yellow curls, dimples
and pink muslin gown.
She thinks-poor Lii Tuft!' said
Martha to herself that am jealous.
And of her Am jealous, wonderg'
with quick impulse Of self-e1amina-
ton. "As if Harry Perry could ever
seriously care for an empty-brained
little butterfly like that! And after
all, even supposing that he did, what
does it matter to me who Harry Perry
cares for and who he doesn'tf"
And she sewed more diligently than
ever.
But when Thursday came-a per-
feet day, with blue sky, and breezes
softer than fan the orange groves in
Italian climes-she could not keep
herself from following, in spirit, the
progress Of the picnic party.
Now she said TO herself, they
are at Wild Spring, stopping to let the
horses drink; now they are driving
up to the very hubs of the wheels in
daisies and red clover blooms, across
Long Meadow; now they get into the
purple shadow of the mountain, where
the hazel copses are, and the ferns
growing like miniature trees; now
oh, pshaw there is the custard burn
ing in the oven / wonder why | can
not mind my own business and let
other peoples aloneY"
Still her mind dwelt uneasily on Lii
lian Tufts exultant words and looks;
and when old Mrs. Dartmoor came in
that evening to bring a new pattern
Of crazy patchwork for her mother,
and began to talk Of DR.. Tufts pref
ty, silly daughter, she listened eager
ly.
Widow Bartlett tells me, p" said that
gossipy old lady, that it's going to
be match between Lii and Harry
Perry; but somehow l can't settle to
believe it. They amt no more alike
than q stalk o. corn and cabbage
sprout. | always supposed-well"-
with quick, laughing glance at Mar
tha Popham, lit don't matter what |
supposed" and she went home.
She had scarcely closed the garden
gate behind her than another visitor
arrived Old Betsy Black, a wrinkled
village crone, who gathered herbs on
the mountain, sold pennyroyal, thyme
and burdock roots to the wholesale
druggists, and gained a precarious
living by the sale of root beer and
cough syrup, which she brewed her
self in the cellar OF her wretched cab
in, down the road.
Il see you've more camomile blows
than you need" said old Betsy. "Ef
We hain't no other use Tor 'em, Tdlike
to bile 'em down, and III give you Il
bottle OF the tea when it's stepped"
You can have what you want" +"
said Martha, listlessly. I'VE shall
not use them"
"And I'm dreadful 'bleeged for the
fresh baked loaf an the soft ginger
bread you left at my house yester-
day." added old Betsy.
You are quite welcome, Betsy"
1T amt everybody would stop to
think of a poor old body like me!'
sniffied Betsy. "And I'm right down
sorry-that be-that / wrung your
peacock's neckr'
You wrung it, BetsyY"
Martha was reused into interest at
last.
Yes" admitted Betsy, guiltily,
twisting a stalk OF lemon-balm in her
fingers. He was a-scratchin' up my
roots Of lettuce, and he tormented Inc
ever since first began 10 make gar
den, an just did it in a minute when
old Satan got possession Of me. 4
dunno what allied me. I've been sor-
nv ever since. / can't say no more
than that, can II
But Martha heard nothing further
OF the old woman's excuses and palli-