The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1890-04-05
HARVEY'S WIFE.


been to college or some other such
fool place, and learned everythin' that
woman hadn't ort to know chemis-
try, botany, philosophy, geology and
physiology. They say she knows more
about the human body than she does
about makil' bread. Fine housekeeper
she'll make for your Harvey Sister
Layne, I'm sorry for We r'
The speaker-a tall, gaunt old lady
in scant gown of blue check, and
huge white sun bonnet-sank into the
big v.illow chair upon Farmer Layne's
vine-covered porch, and began to fan
herself with big turky wing.
Mrs. Layne, small, slight old lady, in
a brown Holland dress and a white
apron, silvery-haired, placid-faced,
motherly body, glanced up from the
dish towel she was busily hemming,
and smiled serenely.
"Well, now, Abigail, I'm not afraid
of Myra," she observed, quietly. "The
girl is little learned perhaps, but then,
1 judge by her letters that she is very
modest over her requirements. And
Harvey thinks there isn't another such
woman on the face of the EARTH"
The visitor sighed lugubriously.
II should think that would be great
trial to your" observed this female
Jcb's comforter. "You uass allus used
to havin' Harvey lookin' up to you as
the fu.t and last among women
There'll be change, sister Layne /;
there'll be change! !"
Mrs. Layne laughed aloud-a charm
ing little laugh, which did one good to
hear.
"Of course, expect that, Abigail''-
spoken with sweet seriousness-w
should be very sorry if Harvey were to
care more for his mother than for his
wife. But a mothers love need not
interfere with the other love. And, any
way, he and Myra are married he will
bring her home to morrow to the old
farm, and it will not be my fault if she
is not satisfied here, for l intend to do
all in my power to make her contented
and happy"
"Humph Wal, I'm sure 1 hope
you'll never regret 1t, that's all p says
Miss Abigail Harris. as she arises to
take her departure. Her call had been
fashionably short, but then she had ac-
complished the purpose for which she
came, and that was something.
The following day brought Harvey
Layne, only child of the worthy old
couple who owned Hillsdale Farm,
home to the old farm house, and with
him tall, elegant girl-his bride. Myra
was not pretty; but one glance into
the fair, calm face, with its serious
brown eyes, which yet held merry
gleam somewhere in their depths, and
Mrs. Layne held out her arms.
"My dear, l hope you will be happy
here. We're plain people-father and
but we will do all We can to make
you happy. for Harvey's sake"
"And for my own, hope" she said,
softly, as she returned the old lady S
affectionate greeting-after which she
was duly presented to her father in-law.
AS the days went by the coming OF
Harvey's wife began to work wonders
in the old farm house. She removed
the hideous ornaments from the parlor
and substituted dainty creations of her
own-painted placques, brackets and
paintings. A velvet lambrequin soon
covered the eyesore of a tall, painted
mantel, delicate lace tides, ornamented
with gay ribbons, covered the reps fur
niture. The green paper shades disap-
peared from the windows, and pretty
and inexpensive drapery of delicate
scrim took their place. The basket of
paper flowers vanished like magic from
the round table in corner of the par
lor, and in its stead a plushbound al
bum upon plush easel. Myra smiled
when she arranged it, as she knew that
this was commonplace in the extreme !;
but anything was better than the paper
flowers. The beautifully embroidered
stools and foot-rest began to be scat
tered throughout the parlor. And when
the old deacon found how very CON-
Portable foot-rest proved to his tired
feet-he wore now pair of handsome
slippers which the same tireless hands
had prepared-he was never weary of
praising the new comfort.
But one person retained unconverted
to Myra Layne's praise. All the young
people in town, except, of course, the
inevitable jealous few, were won at
once by her kindness, her deftness, her
educational requirements. Everybody
had pleasant word to speak to Har-
vey Layne's wife, all save Miss Abigail
Harris. She alone remained unchanged.
She shook her stiff gray head uncom
promisingly over the praise lavished
upon the young wife she treated her
with cold civility, and steadily refused
! to be won. Ii was cas- of the stern
est prejudice.
| "She's whited sepulcher," the old