The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1890-07-02
ANNE.


southwest of Calhoun, being without
means of mail transfer, sent and brought
its mail by daily pedestrian. For a
wear this servitor WAS Aune Davis.
The employment of woman was
new, but Aune's sharp need of the sleu-
der salary gained her the appointment.
A small privilege, most girls would have
reckoned it, that of tramping five lonely
miles day in all weathers; but to Anne
it was boon.
She walked homeward on a rainy Oc-
tober morning. The mail had been
late, and she was afraid Sammy and
Polly might be home from school, and
wanting their dinner. The road was
beautiful in summer, but now there was
mud to plod through, with rain dripping
from the trees. Anne wore of necessity
an attire of short skirt and boys boots;
the mailbag was slung over her shoul-
der, and her face glowed warm under
her soaked hat.
"Little late2" said the postmaster,
smiling over his railing. He looked af
ter her as she hurried away, and well
coined the opportunity for speaking
which the presence of an out-of-town
farmer afforded.
"That's the best girl I know" he said.
ttDont know as you can call her a girl
she does as much as any woman. Way
of it is, her mother had been widow
half a dozen years, and she died year
ago, and now Arne's head of the family.
There's boy year or two older that
aint at home. He's been wild, Jim Davis
has, and made his folks considerable
trouble. He's in Ingleby now; got job
in the tool factory. There's two chill
dren, and nobody but Anne to do for
'em. And now she's took the mail
carrying; she needs the money, but it's
pretty hard on a girl. Well, she does as
near what's right cs she knows how,
Anne Davis does"
Anne reached home before tho chill
dren. They found her with her wet
clothes changed, the kitchen fire crack
ling, and the table set. Sammy was nine
years old and Polly seven, and their re-
alization of trouble was small. They
loved and trusted their elder sister, and
took no worry to their small selves.
To-day they were full to the brim of q
fascinating subject. "We'rc going to
the fair!" said Sammy. "Mrs. Baldwin's
going to take us all in the two-seated
buggy tomorrow afternoon"
It was the county fair, ten miles away.
They had been once, and had -magni6ed
memories, and their good fortune over
whelmed them.
Their happiness was Annc's, and their
good times were not many. She kissed
them as she bundled them up for school
again. Polly's shoes were too large and
Sammy's coat too small. They had been
given them by Reighbors, and Anne had
not the false pride to refuse the help she
gravely needed.
Sammy stopped in the door. "Anne,
there's Uncle Elias" he faltered. a lit.
tie old man with bundle was coming
through the gate.
Sammy and Polly, meeting him, bur
RED on. They could never rid them
selves of the idea that Uncle Elias was of
the bugaboo 'codger" species; but Anne
met him on the step and took his bundle.
"Tolcr'ble, child" he responded to
her query as to his health, and they had
no more conversation till he had dried
himself, eaten his dinner and filed mis-
pipe, and Anne had cleared the table and
sat down with some work.
The old man puffed away sleepily in
his hot corner. He was nearing eighty,
and had lived for some years on the char
ity Of his sister, Anne's great-aunt, who
helped Anne little and grudgingly. His
visits to Dorsey were the bright spots in
his life.
"Jim, you know" said Anne-she
had been barely able to wait before be-
ginning the subject-"Jim is in Ingleby.
Hes got good place in the tool factory
he's sent me some money once"
"I'm glad ont" said the cld man. 81
guess he's good boy"
Anne dropped her work. All her soul
was in her face as she looked at him. 1t
was not hard to see that here was touched
her greatest love and her greatest hope.
"Ie's good boy, Uncle Elias" she
said. ''He would never have done any
wrong if he hadn't been led into it."
"Nor nobody" said the old man, SOL
elmly.
"But JIM wish you could know
how good-hearted he is, Uncle Elias!'
the girl cried. 'sHe was 50 good to
mother! He never meant to hurt her. II
was Hiram Mceker and that bad set; lie
got to going up town with them even
ings, and doing what they did. o Uncle
Elias, can't forget it-that worst night,
when they'd all been up to the saloon
and came home latc-I can't forget!"
"No. Your poor ma"
':It was that that stopped him; he
didn't Vant to hurt mother. He was
better after that, and ever since" But
shadow on her face found expression.
'I'm afraid, Uncle Elias. They're a
rough set in the factory; I've always
heard so. It won't be Hiram Mcekcr,
but it might be somebody else. Do you
think so9" she said, wistfully.
"Nobody's going to make him do
wrong if he wants to behave himself, y
said the old man.
"He'll mean to-" said Anne. "Hc
promised mother"
Uncle Elias, his withcred face red with
the comforting heat, blinked at her.
"Ycur hearts sot oa him." he said.
Somebody outside was calling her; it
had stol ped raining. 1t was Mrs. Bald