Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1890-07-31
THE BLUE DOOR,

SHdpeu dpple-ueeS IN 1rOnC. lnere nave
assuredly been times when the similitude
has been somewhat embarrassing
"4aas, said Deacon Philpott, ''old
Squire Simpson, he built EN-. Said he
didn t want to be accused of no partiality. |
remmeber, with chuckle, how John Vas
sar went into Number Five when he was
counting Louisa Spring, that lived at
Number Four, and scared old Ma am Nc
M1ckin half outen her wits, coming up be-
hind her, when she was making fritters,
Belt s grocer bills was left at Mrs He'd
gey's and"
Very natural misapprehensions
natural. indeed" said Mr.. Miner. 1--WE
are all liable to make mistakes.
That's true as gospel, " said the dea-
con. Now you talk about mistakes, re-
member -"
And L, prctipitately interrupted Mr..
his deacon's interminable stories, ''have
wad misunderstanding by the fact that
the door of the domiciIe where | reside is
providentially painted blue
Deacon Philpott. Speaking about blue,
Llg hlCUDuSd, OOWu LII
Pray, excuse me- said the pastor,
glancing at his turnip-shaped silver-watch
but | have barely time to keep nv ap-
pointment with Brother Kingenbury. |
really had no idea how late it was,
And he hurried away, leaving the dea-
con standing in the middle of the road
staring after him.
Mr. Miner boarded at No. 3, Simpson
Terrace. There was nc terrace, but the
squire thought the name sounded sonorous
and pleasant, so he had christened his
five little cottages, Simpson Terrace.
He boarded with Mrs Chiplev and her
two daughters, Maud and Marian, who
felt a great distinction to be of any service
however slight, to the pastor
Maud herself gathered fresh flowers for
the study-table every day; Marian sat up
late nights to iron and mend table-linen,
napkin, so thatyou could. not tell mended
places from the whole, and the little
widow herself exhausted every culinary
resource to humor his dyspepsia and to
contrive dishes out of the least possible
foundation.
To these three simple women the Rev.
hlIO MILL W de Inc oil tuDCb1eu SdlUl.
And now that Mr.. Miner is safely gone
clean the sitting-room and white.wash the
of unslacked lime, and-oh, by-the-way,
hasty pudding for dinner, and eat at the
kitchen table. Hasty pudding and milk
will do for US women.
L.0f cO1rSo It will - cold
Maud.
Il just like pudding and milk" cried
Marion, jumping gleefully up and down,
land although Mr.. Miner is such a dear
good man, yet it is a sort OF relief to have
him gone once In while, so that we can
clean house, and eat hasty pudding and
milk"
And, Oh; Maud" she whispered to her
aesthetic elder sister, as Mrs. Chiplev
hustled out to hang the big kettle over the
fire. I've such an idea in my head If
you Il only get little grass green paint
ready mixed, when you are at ,Dixey' S,
and medium sized brush?"
Green paint, Marian! What for?'
Hush. don t let mamma hear! I'm so
tired of hearing this called the house with
the blue door,
/ Maud obeyed; although the elder in
point of years, she had long been accustom-
ed to be domlneered over by pretty positive
Marian.
But it is the strangest thing, Marian.'
she said, as fifteen or twenty minutes laler
she handed over mysterious tin can and
oblong paper parcel to her sister. 'Joe
Dean is out painting his door blue!"
TASTES differ, said Marian, Struggling
her shoulders, now invested in a prefer
naturally shabby old calico-gown, suitable
on y to the extreme exigency Of modern
house cleaning time.
blue is lovely color. but as applied to
house door, | am heartily sick of it. Joe
Dean has no more taste than a Newfound-
land dog"
The Deans are expecting city company
to lunch,' said Maud. They sent to
borrow the butterfly china plates this
morning
ut must be nice to have city company,
sighed Marian
'Oh, but to think of the work of it,"
said Maud. lifting up her hands.
Mrs. Chipley come in at that moment,
also clad in what Marian called her
'scrubbing regimentals, and wear
ing an old olive silk-handkerchief tied
around her bright and glossy hair, and
the three sat themselves determinedly at
work.
The Rev. Milo Miner, on reaching the
railway station. received telegram that
his friend. Prof Klingenburg, could not
possibly meet him that day.
Very good" said Mr.. Miner. 'I'H
just step back home and get mouthful of
lunch, and then I'll go to look over those
ancient manuscripts with DR.. Hodges. He
has been urging me to do so for some time
past, and may never have better oppor-
tunity than this
Mr. Miner tucked the umbrella under
his arm, tipped his black, wide-rimmed
hat over his eyes, and set off on a swift,
swinging stride back to Simpson Ter
race.
The blue door stood wide open. He
walked in with no sort of ceremony.
Fresh paint'' he said to himself, ele-
waiting his thin nostrils. "If there's any
thing on the face of the earth | detest, it
is fresh paint And I've got it all over
the skirts of my best coat, too. Where is
Mrs Chipley? What has become of the
girls? Nobody seems to be in TIE way
when they're wanted. But. fortunately,
here's lunch ready spread. | wonder,
now, how it happened. How could they
know l was coming back? Cold roast
grouse with currant jelly-chicken-salad-
pickles, oysters-really, how, this is some
thing quite beyond the ordinary run of
our bill of fare!''
The pastor sat down and ate with an ex-
cellent appetite. He made yawning hole
in the chicken-salad mound; he picked the
bones of crisp, brown grouse with genu-
inc satisfaction, he buttered a foshy