Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1890-12-05
THE MUSIC MAN.

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"No, you can't, and there's an end
ont" said Aunt Betsey Blatchford,
knitting away as if her needles were
made of sheet lightning and her elbows
worked by electricity.
Della looked sober enough. She was
tall, fresh complexioned girl of II or
18, with large brown eyes, forehead
surmounted by naturally curling rings
Of chestnut hair, and sweet red mouth
always ready to break into gracious
smiles
She had worked hard all day making
soft soap and finishing off the family
ironing, but her labors had been cheered
by the anticipation Of the evening sing
ing school" that was to come.
1t is more than likely that Aunt Bet
sey knew all this, but she sat there ike
a determined Fate in brown calico
gown and futed cap frills. Aunt Betsey
was the autocrat of Robbery farm. i4ie
owned the house and the surrounding
acres and the quartz mill by the river,
and Della, although by courtesy called
her niece, was in reality only distant
relation who, if not taken in and brought
up by old Mrs. Blatchford, would have
been turned over to the tender mercies
of the town poor house.
"Delia's "a good girl enough" said the
old woman, land "a spry worker as ever
was But don't believe in girls larling
around the neighborhood the hull time.
They're deal better off at home, SEWN
on their patch work or cuttin rags for
new kitchen carpet
"But | promised the schoolmaster,
Aunt Betsey" said poor Della, her dim
pied face falling like the barometer be-
fore a storm. Hes to call for me at
half past n And he will see me safe
home afterward."
"Well let him go away again" said
Aunt Betsey
Della could hardly see the glitter of
the knitting needles through the tears
that blurred her vision at these cruel
words.
"There's to be dance out in the old
/ barn afterward," she ventured to add,
'and | ironed my pink calico dress so
neatly, and my laces are all done upl
/ Oh, Aunt Betsey, I'd work so hard at
the carpet rags all the rest of the week
il you would let me go this once to sing
ing school"
Aunt Betsey wheeled herself round in
her chair and eyed Della sharply through
the moon like glasses of her big silver
bowed spectacles.
"Well. well, go if you want to-" said
she, tartly, Though all this music is
nothin' but clear waste o time. In my
young days if we could join into the
psalm tunes in church it was all folks
expectel of u.s.
Everybody plays and sings nova
days" ventured Della, whose loftiest and
brightest aspiration was for u melodeon
or cheap parlor organ Of her own.
"Humph!' commented Aunt Betsey.
They'd deal better play on the wash
board and sing calling home the COWS!
That's the sort o music that pays"
Della sighed and abandoned the ques-
ton, Consent to go to singing school
was sufficient of victory for the pres
ent time. And when Marcus Wayte,
the village pedagogue, called for her at
the specified hour she was all ready, in
the stiff. rustling, pink dress. the freshly
ironed laces and little pair of brown
cotton gloves over frilled ribbon wrist
lets that We're entirely new.
"But it's the last time.' she sighed.
"Aunt Betsey thinks that music is use
less and nonsensical, and she won't have
me fooling away my time at singing
school, she says"
"Oh, Delia-and those lessons on the
melodeon that nave been giving you at
DIR. Bartletts"
"They win all be of no use" sale
Della, with little tremor in her voice.
Does she know that people sometime.
earn their living by the aid of musicY
persisted Wayte.
"She don't believe itv'
"And you have such taste for it
Della! Nay, more than taste-a decided
talent. Oh, we must not let the thing
drop. You must have melodeon--it
won't cost much to hire one by the quar-
ter-and go ON with your lessons!"
Della shook her head,
at will be impossible" said she
mourpfully.
''Ill see about that" said Marcus
Wayte. My cousin is in the business
I'll send him to see your aunt"
Della shrugged her pink calico shout
ders. ''Ah, said she, You don't know
Aunt Betsey"
"Wel,' smiled Marcus, "well see.'
Mr.. Ives Wayte listened with the mos
earnest interest to the tale of his cousin
the schoolmaster.
"Got a real talent for music. eh?'
said he
"a most decided one"
And poor;'
"She is. answered Marcus. "But tn,
old lady has plenty of money, if only sh,
chose to spend it in this way; and sh'
ought to DO so"
PLENTY of money? And plenty of pre-
JUDGES, eht'
THAT is it, exactly" said Marcus
, smiling.
Very well. III promise TO do the bes
/ I ean-to oblige you, Mark. For" ad
| ded Mr.. Ives Wayte, with a genia
, twinkle Of the eye, Il see your heart i.
in the business"
, at IS" frankly confessed Marcus
: "For if Della Grey could be qualified L
: give music lessons we might be married
: and take the Weirsells academy at ono,
"a day and boarding school, don't YOU
see? And she is the dearest little thing,
Mr.. Ives Wayte laughed. Its a
good as DONE" said he.
II was a dreary, rainy night towar,