The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1890-09-27

next room was laughing, too, laughing
so that he was almost in commissions.
81 knew Henry was terrible rich
land o. Goshenl An you've washed all
them dishes that left in the sink!"
'You! You are not Cousin Hannah"
"Oh, no; an this hain't Hammers
house, neither. That loon Sam1 Gard
ner jest set you down to the wrong
door. I'm Car'line Ford, Wilson's
wilder; Hammers place Is bout quarter
OF mile off,"
"Oh, am SO sorryw exclaimed Bessie,
in dismay. Il beg your pardon, most
sincerely. have never been here be-
fore. and-oh. do hope you'll excuse
the liberties ] have taken with your
kitchen and buttery!"
"Sho! there hain't nothin' to excuse.
I'm sure I'm dretful glad to find good
hot supper waitin' fur me, fur Pm about
tuckered out. But whatever possessed
you to think o gittin' things ready?''
Bessie explained that she had hesi-
tated, fearing she would ''meddle," but
had decided to do as she would be done
by.
"Land sakes! Ell that hain't Hammer
all over! You an she'll hitch bosses
fust rate. Well, come an eat supper, an
then I'll take you over to Hanner'a
Well! what are you doin' here? An
what are you GRIMM like chessy-cat
at, I'd like to know"
These questions were not addressed
| to Bessie, but to the hitherto hidden
young man; as Mrs. Ford and Bessie
entered the dining-room they had dis
covered him.
her missing guest was here. AS she
did not find her there when she got
home, she has sent scouts out in search
of her, was the reply.
well, you go back an tell Hammer
that her company's a-visitin' with me,
an when we git done supper we'll go
over to her house; an tell her, too, that
I'll fetch her the butter was speakin'
about Well, why don't you step along?
You know Hanner'll be fdgetin' till she
gifts some word
| Although he did not seem to think II
was ''well," to quote Mrs. Caroline's
favorite expletive, he had no excuse for
da1lying any longer. As soon as he
was gone, Bessie's hostess explained
that he was only one of the minister
summer boarders.
"a likely young fellow, who il
fonder o. bugs and butterflies than any
grown man Fever see!" she added, with
laugh. He come to me one mornin'
with q common striped butterfly, an
asked me il he might have the creetur.
was struck all. of heap and fur q
minute thought sure he was luny;
but then he told me he was q etymo-
logis'. an wrote for the papers about
bugs an things. l told him he could
hev all SIGH creeturs they WIZ ON my
land, an welcome; SO yis'dy he showed
me newspaper that he'd a piece in II
tellin' about that very butterfly! He
goes home tonight, an l shell miss
him lots"
Bessie did not express her opinion;
but when, on arriving at Hannah
Ford's, she heard that Harry yelling,
the young s'etynologis', had suddenly
decided not to leave Ford's Mills just
yet, she thought that perhaps the sum-
mer might be pleasant, even If country
life was monotonous and quiet
| 1t happened that Bessie also was fond
of "bugs an things" SO she and young
yelling had common interest to start
with; and it was not long before Harry
found that she had impaled his heart
among her specimens" OF course he
could not be so ungallant as to ask her
to return it, but he managed to capture
hers in its place. so both treasure-hunt-
ers were happy.
| 1t was not, however. until yelling
had had favorable interview with
Bessie's father that she or any Of the
denizens of Forcl's Mills learned that
entomology was pastime with him.
not profession, and that comfort
able income of some twenty thousand
dollars per annum allowed him to study
nature because he loved her. Then, too,
he owned to Bessie that he had con-
tracted an aversion to fashionable but
| terfiies," and that his haste to leave
Ford's Mills had been caused by hear
| ing that she was to spend the summer
there. His change of plan was made
when, sitting unseen in Mrs. Caroline
Ford's dining-room, he overheard the
conversation have quoted, and the
first glance he gave at Bessie's winning
face made him anxious to add to his
fine collection of specimens just this
one unique specimen of fashionable
butterfly. Frances E. Wadleigh, in
Demorest's Magazine.