The San Saba news. [volume] (San Saba, Tex.) 1873-1966, 1889-09-13
SAND COTTAGE.

liOIu his laSh VI utt ulCuNuuH Will DlSdI6u
eyes, and long gray beard blowing in the
salt wind, ''there amt no houses herea-
bouts to let. Most every one lives in his
o7Tn. house
Mrs. Cheverel and Kate eyed each other
with disappointed glances.
HStrangers mostly boards at the tab
vern, added the old man, stitching dill
gently away.
''But we can't afford that, said Kate.
''We are obliged to economic, added
Mrs. Cheverel.
Old Nathan Plowden nodded.
''The tax is pretty steep at the tahyern, "
said he, rehectively.
'rMy daughter paints, said Mrs. Chew
erel, with modest pride, ''and we thought
this neighborhood would afford her unu-
sual facilities for"
Nathan stared.
'rWomen has took to that business,
heyln said he. ''Wal, there's no tellin'
what they'll do next. But there's two
house painters at Rocky Signal already,
and one as does signs and inside cell
ings."
Kate Cheverel laughed
81 do not think they viii interfere
with me, said she.
''If only We could find house," said
Mrs. Cheverel. II wouldn't mind how
small it was"
Al of a sudden Nathan Plowden's
wooden visage heightened up.
fsTF -, zoe -.-;IIfr1 p, +al-ao toor1or -
said he. ''there's Old Man Simpson as
goes with Sard Cottage. There's six
rooms in the cottage, and he don't need
but one. He's poor, paralyzed creetur.
But he don't make no more trouble than
he can help, and he amt noways pa'tik-
lar about MS vittles. Guess likely you've
seen the plsce-a little one-storied house
Jest this side of the lighthouse, with red
brick chimblyl"
'sOh, mother, that houser' cried Kate,
ecstatically clasping her hands. 'With
the Travellers joy vine climbing all over
ragged cetfag posts, and the row OF red
hollyhocks along the garden wall. The
very nook of all others that 1 would have
chosenl"
'But-a boarder!n hesitated Mrs. Che
verel.
Hes a dreadful quiet old creetur,"
said Plowden. 'Wouldn't be much
trouble; and his folks they give the rent
of the place TO any one as Il take good
care OF him. Widow Moseman. she's
done for him all these years; but her
son, out in Colorado, has wrote for her
to come and keep house for him."
Mother, let US go and look at the
place, coaxed Kate. ''Such studies of
sea and sky as I could make there
And Kate prevailed in the end.
The sun was shining on Sand Cottage,
as the two women stood in the porch IN
der the swinging festoons of Travellers
JOY" Old Man Simpson sat smiling in
his wheeled chair, like a silver-haired
child, with last weeks newspaper upside
down IN his lap.
''He can't read word since that last
paralytic stroke,n said Mrs. Moseman.
'sBut he thinks he can, and the papers
dreadful comfort to him. He's as peace
full as a baby, so long as he has plenty of
weak coffee to drink, and chance to sit
in the san On cloudy days he wants big
ere o logs in the chimbly; but there's
plenty O. drift-wood washed up, arter
every high tide Wood don't cost moth
ing here"
'sHas he no relatives of his ownl"
asked Kate, looking with compassionate
eyes on the smiling, expressionless face,
fringed around with silver hair, and the
folded, useless hands.
''only a fur-away cousin, as pays his
board and sends him clothes, and comes
70 see him once in awhile, said Mrs.
Moseman. 'His own folks is all dead
and gone, long age"
''It will be great responsibility, - said
Mrs. Cheyerel. on, >
"But think we could taketre5d care
Of him, mother, " whispered Sympathetic
Kate.
..And it would-5e q dreadful accom-
mediation to me, said Mrs. Moseman,
who talked through her nose, and heaved
a Borean sighat the end Of every sentence
that she spoke.
perhaps hesitated Mrs. Cheverel,
1--WE ought to write TO this distant rela-
tive about the bus;nessl"
"Oh, faint necessary" said Mrs.
Moseman. at can all be arranged with
me-"
So Mrs. Cheverel and Kate settled
down on the edge of the sea, in the
picturesque one-storied cottage, with
sod Man Simpson in his wheeled chair
as part OF their household.
Mrs. Cheverel kept house, tidied up
the rooms, and prepared dainty little
dishes; while Kate sketched fine marine
effects, and tried to copy the flaming
reds and dreamy puppies of the sunsets,
that trailed thei7 splendors along the
deep night after night.
"she is getting quite contented again, -
said Mrs. Cheyerei 'sIt's a very sad
story, Mr.. Simpson" For she often
talked to this smiling, senile old man,
very much as she would have talked to
herself, for lack Of any other auditor, and
he would nod and rub his white, wrinkled
old hands, and evince a feeble sort of sat
isfaction in the sound other voice.) sTm
quite sure that they loved each other; and
then that beauty, Althea Desmond came
along and made him believe that Kate
was only playing with him-that she was
a heartless coquette, a mere fortune
hunting butterfly And of course Kate
couldn't endure that imputation. So after
We lost all thoss investments in the