Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1889-11-08

a pretty little churn which he ha,
somewhere picked up for Myra the gin
was gone.
"Where's Myra?' demanded th
young farmer, looking around il be
wilderment.
"Gone to stay spell at Cousin Pere
CRIME Britwhistle's," said Uncle Joab
glibly. They needed here there, ant
so she's gone"
"And left no word for me?"
NO." said Uncle Joab. But he
knew that the monosyllable cut Tranl
to the heart.
They were married. of course. Prett,
Lydia Watts was exactly the girl tt
| comprehend the situation, and made the
most of her advantages. And Frank, il
his Responding mood, succumbed te
fate, and supposed it might as we'll be
Lydia Watts as any one else"
Talk about circumstances" said
Uncle Joab. Any man could mold
circumstances to suit himself, if only he
had little tact"
And Uncle Joab rubbed his hands
more gleefully than ever.
But as the days rolled by Uncle Joab
began to doubt the efficacy of his
charm.
Il really think, Father Fenn," said
the bride, with a toss of the head en-
circled by black, shining braids, "that
you're making an unnecessary fuss over
that toothache Of yours.
"An-unnecessary fuss!" repeated
Uncle Joab, in dismay.
cold folks hadn't ought to be so
fretful and exacting," went on Lydia.
1T isn't Christian; aud I, for one, won't
bear it. Ii you can't sit quiet and
peaceable by the fire, I think you had
better stay in your own room"
And Mrs. Lydia Hounced into the
kitchen to turn the batch of cakes in the
oven before it should burn.
Joab Fem rose slowly and went up
to his room. II he had been familiar
student of Shakespeare, he might have
quoted to himself the old passage:
How sharper than serpent's tooth it
is to have q thankless child!' But he
was not literary man. and kept his
thoughts and troubles in his own bo-
som.
Frank doesn't feel So" he told him
self. Frank has little compassion on
his old father yet"
But that very evening, when lie came
cropping down into the kitchen to get
some mustard for his aching face, he
heard Lydia comforting with her hus-
band in the adjoining sitting-rocm.
Its no use talking" said Mrs. Fem,
junior, in an excited sort of way, "and I
sha'n't stand it any longer, that's posi-
tive. There's very good vacancy in
the Home for Old Men, and it's the only
place he's fit for"
Perhaps you are right, my dear"
said Frank, ruefully. For, big six
footer though he was, lie stood in NOR
tai fear of his slim, black-eyed wife. II
dare say they'll make him very COM
Portable there, and ] wouldn't mind
paying a good weekly sum to secure
peace at home.'
Joab Fem did not stop to find the
mustard box. He crept slowly back to
his own room and sat down on the side
OF the bed. A Home for Old AIen!"
A sort of living tomb in which he was
to be inferred at Lydias capricious
will, with his one afternoon out in the
week, his daily allowance of tobacco,
and his clean, desolate cell. He shud-
dered at the bare idea But what was
he to do? He remembered, with q
shudder, that lie had made over all his
property to Frank and Lydia-that he
had actually not one cent to call his
own! And this was the return measure
dealt out to him.
Little Myra wouldn't have treated
me So" said he, with one of the salt.
singing tears Of old age burning it's
way down his cheek. Little Myra
would have been good to the old man"
Out into the night cold, spark
ling, starry night-he made his way,
with the vague, half-formed idea of 60
ing to Myra Peregrine Birtwhistle
lived twenty mics away, it is true, but
he had walked twenty miles before, and
he could again. Anything to get away
from Lydia's hard, sharp eyes, and put
a distance between him and the Home
for Old Men,"
ooh, Peregrine, look here! An old
man asleep by the roadside. Or, is he
asleep? Come, Peregrine, quick! It's
Uncle Joab-dear, good old Uncle
Joab!"
Myra had run out i'll the dewy calm
of the early morning to get few of the
water-cresses that old Mrs. Birtwhistle
liked for her breakfast; and to her sur
prise she found PROSTATE figure
stretched out beside the brook. where