St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1890-04-12
HER WAITING.
1t Is Over Now, and Little Miss
Barton Is Happy.

10 herself, touching with tender fingers
b feecy whiteness that lay upon her
lap as she sat in her low, brown rock.
ing-chair.
Two great tears rolled swiftly down
dainty fairness.
"June has come again, john" she
whispered; and I've been waiting. dear,
these twenty years. All, these twenty
years."
Then for her Miss Barton did . mos,
unusual and astonishing thing, for She
laid that ncu gown upon the table be-
side her, picked up the gray kitten frisk-
ing at her feet, and cried as if her heart
was breaking.
All Brockport knew about Miss Bar
tons "waitin'." Even the smallest
child had heard of how the little gal
liant William and Mary had sailed away
one fair June day, never to return: and
save for the fact that shortly after her
departure she had been sighted by a
homecoming vessel, no faintest tidings
had ever come to those aching hearts
that waited in that thrifty little fisher
village by the shores of the blue, blue
Pea. Among the crew there was a sailor
Tad named John Darrell. He was a fine,
manly young fellow. whose dearest hope
was to make gentle Mary Barton his
wife when hat last voyage should be
over.
II had all been planned % many,
many times. He was to give up his sea
faring life, and they were 10 make their
home with the Widow barton In the
tiny vine-shaded ~cot.asSSs high upon the
cliffs, an ne was to be to her, indeed,
: . son in her old age.
Mary Barton never forgot the look in
those blue eyes as no held her close in
the last parting, nor the ~half-choked
blessing with which he babe her keep
up a brave heart till they me- again,
and the weary waiting was ended.
And for him, and him alone, she had
waited. The villagers spoke Of it as
'little Miss Barton's waitin'."
As the years slipped by, and it was
felt for a certainty that never would
that gallant ship come into port, other
lovers came to her. For though the
roses faded from her smooth checks and
silver threads rippled through her dark
hair, she was still a woman beloved by
al and fair to look upon.
But gentle and firmly she said them
nav. '.He has reached the surest of all
havens," she would answer to their
pleadings, land l shall wait, as he left
me, till my call comes to join him."
And one by one they gave up asking.
Il shall love you, Mary. till the day
of my DEATH" Martin Decring, the
great man of the town. once said to her,
tears filling his honest eyes as he
thought of his own motherless girls and
the home hat he'd hoped her presence
would brighten. But as q time went on,
and he grew to see that the lost man
was her one love. he bravely conquered
himself, and was to her what she most
desired and needed true and faithful
friend.
Then her mother died, and still she
chung to her solitary home; her days
spent in work and crrands of mercy;
her evenings sweet with the memories
of days hat were no more.
With the winter a stranger had drifted
into Brockport, an architect and .
clever and rising young fellow.
Now it was we'll known that before
the June roses faded he would carry
away with him pretty Matte, Martin
behring's youngest daughter.
Perhaps it was the sight of her dainty
wedding gown flor she loved Matte, and
would miss her sorely), or the sight of
those pinkly-blowing, ever-fragrant
June roses shyly clinging to the low
doorway, and the sound of the distant
sapphire, foam-tossed sea as it swept
with mellow roll into the shore, hat
made little Miss Barton cry so sadly
that FAIR summer morning.
Outside, far down upon the smooth,
gray beach, round about an old life-boat,
children were merrily playing. Rosy,
healthy, coarsely-clad little ones. bub-
bling over with the wine of life. Among
them was Bub Symonds. Bub was nine
years old, and the eldesto Of five, flourish
ing olive branches A sturdy, honest,
freckled-faced boy, whom. Granny said
often, made her ''puir head greed sair."
But Granny was old and cross and
Scotch, and Bub felt sometimes as if
nothing he yer did or could do would
please her. But mother was always
suited. and, after all, who could equal
mother?
He had cared for baby this morning,
and waited upon her till the chubby miss
was overcome by slumber, then brought
her home over the hot sand in his stout,
little arms.
They didn'. ache much now, he
thought, as he watched the children at
play. for mother had brushed the wet
hair from his tired forehead and hidden
him rest a bit"
Presently over the sands. pipes in their
mouths, laughing and talking, some fish,
mi came strolling.
Here, Bub." cried one as they passed
him. this here's meant for your
Into his lap fell the loveliest bit Of
amber that the boy had ever seen. How
1t CLEANED, and,sparkled, and shone!
He was speeches. with delight The
children crowded round him with admir-.
ing looks and EXPLANATIONS.
"Whatn you do with it, Bub?" they
asked.
A sudden thought struck him.