The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1890-03-08
The next day six white shirts fluttered

Qay-Stlu ana sunny anu OaorouS ouiy
of Heavens pure breezes-they went te
their owner, and Joe brought back tc
his mother in return the silver which
looked to Phrosy brighter and better
than silver ever looked before. He
brought something else, too, an over
grown bundle of shirts which had evi.
IDENTIFY seen sorrow and had not lived
the lives that aristocratic white shirts
ought to live.
"Thcse belong to the mill boys" he
explained, 'they got sight at the
others and nothing to do but they must
send these down. They're pretty
hard lot" meaning the shirts and not
the mill boys) shut I guess your old
woman can get 'em clean, mother"
And his mother, chuckling little as
she thought of '.her old woman" took
the bundle and informed her son that
anything of the kind was welcome until
further orders.
That week, in the neighbors' estima-
tions, Ben Miller fairly blossomed with
shirts, for the number of those useful
and ornamental garments that hung on
the Millers' line was something abso-
lutely unprecedented.
"Thirteen shirts for one poor work
ingman is the worst ever heard!" as
severated the woman next door, whose
propinquity gave her, in her own esti-
nation, right to criticise the Millers
with more frankness than 'manners.
Il wouldn't slave myself to death for
the sake of Ben's vanity if I was his
sisterp
But Phrosy smiled serenely.
81 don't call Ben over vain myself"
she answered, ''and I'm sure am not
shaving myself to death or near it for
any one, and as long as I'm satisfied !
don't see what differenc, the size of my
washIngs ought to make to any ore
else." And with this the officicds
and would-be inquisitive neighbor was
forced to retire discounted.
Phrosy went to the picnic under Mrs.
Jenkins protecting wing Zone of Mrs.
Millers whilom cronies consenting glad
ly to come and spend the day with herr
and she had on a fresh pink lawn and
ribbons to match and looked for all the
world like a peach blossom.
The picnic was near the sold Brad
bury ranch" and its new owner tall,
sun-burned, masterful young fellow
with plain, sensible face and a pair of
eyes that seemed to Phrosy the kindest
that she had ever seen-madc them well
come to his home and was as hospitable
as a true Californian always is; and
some way Pnrosy was shyly conscious,
after the first, that those kinl eyes
looked trife more kindly upon her
than they did upon some of the more
noticeable girls.
Phrosy was always one of the useful
ones, and when it fell to her lot to
oversee the arrangement of the lunch
her new acquain lance very quietly dis
engaged himself from the others and
devoted himself to her assistance, and
Ben Miller, looking on from distance,
saw and approved.
"Phrosy's worth her weight in gold"
he said to himself, sand Dllton is just
the kind of fellow that she ought to
have. I'd give four bits to have it turn
out that way"
That night Phrosy came home tired
but radiant. John Dalton had har-
messed up his two-horse team and
brought part of the picnickers down to
the village himself, ''jlst to be socia-
ble," he had said; and he had invited
her to sit beside him on the front seat,
and he had, moreover, told Ben that he
was coming down to play him game
of checkers now and then when the
evenings got little longer.
What wonder was it that the world
seemed rose colore1 to Phrosya and
what wonder was it that when Johr
Dalton-not waiting for the evenings tc
lengthen pcrceptibly-made his appear