Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1891-02-14
A W0MAN'S STORY.

- seeing to thousand
SS%= things besides. We
were to give a grand supper on this
Thanksgiving day-which was, also,
the thirtieth anniversary OF our
wedding.
''Deary me-" thought, peering
into the oven to see how the turkeys
were getting on, Il can't believe it
has been thirty years since Tom and
stock up before Preacher Censor to
get married-it really dosen't seem
that long; but Preacher Censor has
been dead and gone these twenty
years, Toms hair is as white as -four
at the mill, ndI-well, / dom feel so
very old yet, and wouldn't realize
the fight OF time so much if l
hadn't Jamie, here, with me-" and l
glanced at our only child-a man in
years, but to me always a child; for
he had never grown in statue since
ten long years ago, when they
brought him mangled and bleeding.
his feet crippled for life caused by a
fall from beam in the mill.
/ thought it would kill me, at first
to see my once active, bonny, bright
darling tramping around on crutch.
es; but somehow l got used to it as
years passed us both by so used to
it. indeed, that when Jamie asked me
that Thanksgiving morning if
would take Dora for my daughter
/ flared up at him and answered hin
more sharply than should have
thought it possible for me to answer
my idolized boy.
What right had he to leave me fol
Dora? Not that l disliked the girl
though she was strange sort o
body-living first at one house theI
at another. Our neighbors were al
working people and managed to get
along without hired help, except
field-hands or some such man-labor
it was only at house cleaning times
that Dora was needed steadily, Of
sewing was going to be done at mar
riages or funerals. 1t was a haphaz
ard way of getting ones bread, bu
Dora was always busy; for she wal
as handy at boys work as any Lar
in the village and had the advan
tage of being more intelligent. DorG
would he just the wife for my son
she was energetic, robust, strong and
smart, while he was the crippled sol
of hard working miller, who coulC
leave him no money or estate whel
he died; and me, his mother, whC
could leave him only to the mercy o
the world when life was ended.
But | steeled my heart against hi
pleading voice and eyes, and CAV,
him shorS angry replies, until h
could stand itno longer and hobbleC
away, slowly and tremblingly, to
ward the mill.
My heart cried out for him; but
stified it's approaches, and gave vent
to ugly feelings by spiteiully dashinl
all manner of kitchen utensils out up
on the porch. After the turkeys wer,
tanned to russell and gold in the biz
oven, and the cakes were done the ex
citement that had kept me in fur
ry all day suddenly left me, and
sat down in the disordered kitchen
and had q good, long, hard cry owe
my poor boy. Still / felt that thi
trouble was Dora's fault, and / triet
to hush my accusing conscience b,
blaming her.
BY shutdown all was ready to re
ceive the expected guests. Dora ha,
come SO as to help me about the ia
bles, and had treateG her so coldl,
that her usually bright, sweet, sun
shiny look fled from her face, an
there seemed, oddly enough,
gloomy cloud spreading, shadow
like, all over the house.
Tom and Jamie came in late from
the mill, for it was being repaire
and the Masters eye" was require
incessnntly. Jamie stopped on tn
porch, and before my very eyes
with never q hint that he saw tn
anger flashing out OF them-h
drew Dora's face down to his an
kissed her.
Then was mad and said thing
that made them tremble at their un
just bitterness and hate. Jami
never answered me but limped UT
stairs to his own room and stage,
there several hours; as for Dora, sh
disappeared.
BY ones and twos and tbrees tn
guests began to cmgregate in m
little best room until twas crowded