The Mason County journal. [volume] (Shelton, W.T.) 1886-1927, 1890-02-21

tent But all too soon would come the
sound of the horn blown from below, or
a call from the house, "Brie, Brie, the
men are coming to supper; make haste!"
and she would be forced to hurry back
to the work-a-daY world.
Harder times followed. When she
was just twenty her father fell from his
loaded hay wagon and fractured his
thigh. There was no cure for the hurt
and after six months of hopeless attend
ance he died. Brie and her mother were
left together on the lonely farm. with
the added burden of a large bill for doc
toring and medicines, which pressed like
a heavy weight on their honorable
hearts.
The hired man, Reuben Hall, was we'll
disposed and honest, but before Mr..
Dorset's death he had begun to talk OF
going West, and Brie foreboded that he
might not be willing to stay with them.
Mrs Dorset, broken down by nursing
and sorrow, had become an invalid, un-
able to assist, save in the lightest way.
The burden was sore for one pair of
young shoulders to bear. Brie kept up
a brave face by day, but at night hor-
rors of helplessness and apprehension
seized her. The heavens seemed as
brass against which her feeble prayers
beat in vain; the future was barred, as
it were, with an impossible gate.
What could she do? Sell the farm?
That would take time, for no one in par
ticular wanted to buy it. IT Reuben
would only stay by them they might be
able to fight it out for another year, and,
what with butter and eggs and the corn
crop, make enough for his wages and
bare living. But would Reuben stay?
Our virtues sometimes treat us as in
vestments do, and return dividend
when we least expect it. 1t was at this
hard crisis that certain good deeds OF
Briefs in the past stood her friend. She
had always been good to Reuben, and
her sweet ways and consideration for
his comfort had gradually won pass
age into his rather stOlid affections.
Now seeing the emergency she was in,
and the courage with which she met it,
he could not quite find the heart to
'leave the little gal to make out by her
self" Fully purpOsing to go, he stayed,
putting off the idea of departure from
month to month, and though true to his
idea of proper caution, he kept his good
intentions to himself, so that the relief
of having him there was constantly
tempered by the dread lest he might go
at any time: still it was a relief.
So April passed, and May and June.
The crops were planted, the vegetables
in. Brie strained every nerve. She
petted her hens and coaxed every posi-
BILE egg out of them, she studied the
tastes of the two cows, she maintained
brave show of cheer for her ailing
mother, but al t the time she was sick at
heart. Every thing seemed closlng-iiia9. ;
How long could she keep it up?
The balsam frs of the hill grove
could have told tales in those days.
They were Brie's sole confidants. The
consolation they gave, the counsel they
communicated, were mute indeed. but
none the less real to the anxious girl
who sat beneath them, or laid her cheek
on their rough stems. June passed, and
with early July came the answer to
Brie's many prayers. 1t came, as an
swers to prayers often do, in shape of
which she had never dreamed.
Miss Mary Morgan, teacher in Gram
mar School No. 3. Ward Nineteen, of
the good city of Boston, came, tired out
from her winters work, to spend few
days with Farmer Aliens wife, her Sec
ond cousin, stopped one day at the Dor
sets door, while driving, to ask for a
drink of water. took fancy to the old
home and Brie, and the next day came
over to pr pose herself as boarder for
three months.
81 can only afford to pay seven dollars
a week. she said, ''but on the other
hand | will try not to make much
trouble, if you will take me-
''Seven dollars a week; only Think
cried Brie, gleefully, to her mother, after
the bargain was completed and Miss
Morgan gone. Doesn't it seem like
fortune? It'll pay Reuben's wages, and
leave ever so much over. And she
doesn't eat much meat, she says, and
she likes baked potatoes and cream and
sweet baked apples better than any
thing. And there's the keeping-room
chamber all cleaned and ready. Doesn't
it seem as ifshe was sent to u.s. mother?"
'YOur poor father never felt like
| keepin' boarders," said Mrs. Dorset. Il
used to kind of like the idea of it. but
he wasn't willin'. l thought it would
be company to have one in the house, if
| they was nice folks. 1t does seem as if
this was the Lords will for us: her COM
ing is so unexpected, and all"
Two days later Miss Morgan, with a
hammock and folding canvas chair and
trunk full of light reading, arrived
and took possession of her new quarters.
| For the first week or two she did little
but rest, sleeping for hours at a time in
the hammock swung beneath the shad-
| owing elms. Then, as the color came
back to her thin face and the light to
her eyes, she began to walk little, to
sit with Brie in the fir grove, O. read
, aloud to her on the doorstep willis she
mended. shclled peas or picked over
! berries, and all life seemed to grow
/ easier and pleasanter for the jewellers
! in the solitary farmhouse. The guest
gave little trouble, she paid her weekly
due punctually, and the steady income,
! small as it was. made all the difference
: in the world to Brie.
AS the summer went by, and she grew
at home with her new friend, she found
much relief in confiding to her the per-
| pleXities of her position.
81 see, y Miss Morgan said, sit is the
winter that is the puzzle. l will en-
gage to come back next summer as I
have this, and that will help along; but
the time between now and then is the
difficulty"
"Yes," replied Brie, "the winter is