The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1889-08-01
A PIOUS FRAUD.
BY HELEN FOREST GRAVES.

by HELEN FOREST GRANESs
Saturday Night.
docs Mrs. Murray live here?"
Mr.. Webb knocked apologetically on
the glass counter of the bakery with
the handle of his whip. 1t seemed
almost q liberty thus unceremonious-
ly to address the gaily attired young
woman who was adding up the ac-
counts behind the tall desk.
He stood near the door, keeping a
sharp lookout on the barefooted boy
who was holding his sleepy old horse
for had he not heard, many a time
and oft, OF the juvenile New York?
In reply to his respectful question,
the young woman nodded her head
and curtly answered:
"Up stairs"
"Tt's pretty big house." said Mr..
Webb, glancing about him. "The
Murrays wasn't rich when they lived
down our way; but Rachel never had
good Judgment. l should say, now,
the rent of house like this"
"It amt house." said the young
woman, speaking with a lead pencil
between her teeth.
"Ain't house, eh?" Martin Webb's
honest, onion -colored eyes gradually
expanded, until you would have
thought the lids could scarcely con-
tain them: "Not-a house?"
"No; it's a fat. Fourth story,
back room. Name OF Murray. Stair
case Just out in the hall there"
And so for the first time in his life,
Mr.. Webb found himself in the pre-
cincts of "fat."
He lost his way half dozen of times
this gaunt, good-humored giant, with
a ham in his arms, two or three
strings of a country sausage over his
shoulder, and basket of red apples
clasped tightly against his breast.
That was q matter of course.
He walked into the kitchen of one
flat, brought up IN the parlor ofanoth-
er, ,and presented himself, smiling, at the
late breakfast table of third, where
a luckless printer, who worked all
night, on the early edition of morn
ing paper, was sleepily chipping the
the shells Of an egg.
"Call them eggs?" said Martin, con-
temptuously. 'If our Volts Corners
hens can't beat that ere sort % thing
But am sure ask pardon; guess
I've got into the wrong fat. P'r'aps
you can tell me where O. lady named
Murray lives?',
And by dint OF many such question
lngs and inquiries, Mr.. Webb at last
got himself, his red apples, ham and
sausages into a scantily furnished
room looking out on bare brick wall
"a room where everything had n
starved look, even down to the cat,
which sat intently watching mouse
hole in the wainscoting.
Mrs. Murray, p tall, pinched, elder
~ woman, was engaged, through a
double pair of spectacles, in mending
fine laces, but the slow motion of her
needle, and the uncert ain expression
of her face, denoted no very brilliant
success.
And seated on the window ledge op-
posite her, ariding habit of dark green
cloth, a beaver hat with dark green
veil twisted around it, and a jaunty
little ivory handled whip, was a pret-
ty girl of Is or 20.
Both started at the entrance OF
Mr.. Webb, both smiled glad recogni-
ton.
Why" cried Mrs. Murray, it's
cousin Martin! ;Hilda,- lEve your cous-
in q chair declare, Martin, I am sur
prised to see you here!
"No more'n l to get here, I guess, ~
returned the farmer, with q peculiar
chuckling noise down in his throat.
"These ere city folks, they do take
the starch outen fellow. Amt
much like our medder flats down at
VOLTS Corner, eh? Here, cousin
Rachel, I've brung ye one of Eliza s
best sugar-cured hams an some
sassages, and bushel of the apples
that growed ON the tree beyond the
we'll the real, red-cheeked Jasey
Moores you know"
cts very kind OF you, Pm sure"
said Mrs. Murray. "Hilda, can you
not offer our cousin some refreshments
after his journey?"
Hilda colored painfully, How could
she explain to her mother that the
cupboard was utterly empty, even OF
q crust OF bread?
"I'l bring up something directly
she murmured.
And then she vanished.
From one good neighbor-the very
printers wife, indeed-she borrowed q
potful OF freshly made coffee; from an
other, a few slices of cold boiled beef.
from third q pan of new,haked bis
cults, with little butter aud O. comb
OF honey, and then she flew back to
spread the frugal meal.
care they all well, cousin Webb?''
she asked, timidly, as holding up her
riding habit with one hand, she ar
ranged the table and ministered to the
appetite of her guest with the other.
+ Mr., Webb nodded his head, keenly
surveying her the while.
"All well" heresponded between the
swallows of coffee, 'tElixa, she sent
her love, And Reed--no Reed didn't
send no love. But he wanted to be
specially remembered, Reed did, He's
had dreadful good luck with the sweet
potato patches and tobacco crops
this year" ...
'Has he2" and Hilda blushed rosily.
She might have added something
more, but Mrs. Murray officially in
terfered.