The Republican., 1890-09-19

AciSys sdlu Delld 0Idy,
sXRn l go oyer to the Drew place to
snging school tonight ?''
W No, you can't, and there's an end
0n't," said Aunt Betsy Blanchford.
knltting away as if her needles were
sllade OF sheet lightning and her ell
lows worEed by electricity.
Della looked sober enough. She
was "A tall, tresh-compIeXioned girl Of
lHpr Is, with large brown eyes,
fofehead surrounded by naturally
c0gling rings of chestnut hair. and a
Sc pet red mouth, always ready to
hn ak into gracious smiles.
5.as Shad worked hard ali day max
aigg soft soap, and finished off the
family ironing. hut her lahors had
been cheered by the anticipation Of
the evening at singing school" that
WIS TO coiAe.
1t is more than likely that Aunt
Betsy knew all this, but she sat there
like determined Fate i'll brown
calico gown and fiuted cap frills.
Aunt Betty WAS the autocrat Of Red
berry farm. She owned the house
and the surrounding acres and the
quartz mill by the river, and Della,
although by courtesy called niece,
was in reality only distant relative
who, if not taken in and brought up
by old Mrs. Blachford, would haye
been turned over to the tender mer-
cies of the town poor house.
"Delia's a good girl enough" said
the old woman. land ii spry worker,
as eyer was. But / don't believe in
girls lsrking around the neighbor-
hood the hall time. THEY'RE a deal
better ut home sewin' on their quit
patch work or cutin' rags for Il rev
Kitchen carpet"
But promised the schoolmaster,
Aunt Betsy" said poor Della, her
dimpIed face falling like the burom-
eter before a storm. "He'S to cali for
me at half past seven, and he wiIlsee
me safely home afterward."
"Well. let him 90 away again, said
Aunt Betsy.
Della could hardly see the glitter
of the knitting needles through the
tears tha, blurred her vision al these
crael words.
Where's 10 be dance out in the
cld barn aiterWard." she ventured to
add, and ! ir0ned nv pInk calico
dress so neatly, and my faces are all
done up. Oh, Aunt Betsy pd work
so hard at the carpet rags all the rest
ofthe week if you would let ne go
this once to singing school,"
Aunt Betsy wheeled herself round
in her chair and eyed Della sharply
through The moon-like glasses Of ner
high silver-hoWed spectacles.
"WeIl. well, go if you want to"
said she tartly,"thf ugh all this music
is nothin' but clear waste o. time. III
my young days if we could join into
the psalm tunes in church it was all
folks expected Of u.s."
Everybody plays and sings now.
adays," ventured Della, whose loft
lest and brightest aspiration was for
a melode0n or a cheap parl0r organ
of her own.
Hump !" commented Aunt Bet
sy, "they'd a deal better play on the
wash board and sing calling home
the COWS. That's the sort o. music
that pays!"
Della sighed and abandoned the
question. Consent to go to singing
school was sufficient of victory fOl
the present time.
And when Marcus Wayte, the viii
lage pedagogue, called lUr her at hail
past seven she was ready, in the stiff
rustling pink dress, the freshly ironed
Iaces and little pair of brown cotton
cloves over friIled wristiets that were
entirely new.
"But it's the last time. "she sighed
Aunt Betsy thinks that music Is
useless and nOnsensical land she W0n't
have me fooling away my time al
singing school, she says"
"Oh, Della land those lessons OF
the melodeon that 1 have been giving
you at DIR. Bartlett's."
"They will all be OF no use" sale
Della, with Il little tremOl in hel
voice.
docs she know that people some
times earn their living by the aid o
music ?" persisted Wayte.
"She DONE believe it,"
"And you have such taste for it
Della! Nay, more than taste,
decided talent. Oh we must ~"
let the thing drop. You must hav'
meIodeon-it won't cost much &
hire one by the quarter-and 90 OF
with your lessons"
Della shook her head.
at will be impossible" said sh,