Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-01-08
THE ElIIGRANT GIRL.

Down through the skylight of the
great emigrant office the sun beat like
. gigantic burningglass the blue flies
buzzed noisily in the window frames
and Honora Hough sat uneasily on her
hard wooden bench, her heart throb-
bing restlessly at every sound.
lis that II o'clock strikingP" she
ventured to ask az last of good
natured official who was writing at a
tall desk close by.
That's IL O'clock" he said, care
fully blotting page OIL before he turned
10 page 90.
''And no one has come for me yetP"
mo one has come for you yet"
And the official commenced on a
new page with fresh dip of the pen.
Honora's heart beat faster than ever;
. sort of mist seemed to gather over
her blue eyes. Did she fall asleep. or
was it only sort of waking swoon
from which she aroused to hear some
enc saying close to her:
Ever since this time yesterday, and
not soul has inquired for her. l
think it's more than likely she'd be
glad of decent place. Wouldn't you,
young wOmanP"
Il want some one right away" said
q spare. hard-featured, elderly woman,
with a basket on her arm and crmp
cap under her bonnet. my daughter
Is very sick. and | can't get along no
longer without help. The wages amt
high, but it's good home for any
young woman; that I'll guarantee
,.I.> 4
once more wistfully at the window.
and then decided.
IN co. said she.
Perhaps it was as we'll that she ar
rived at that conclusion. The sickness
incident to the sea-voyage and the long
waiting for the friends who had not
GENE had pretty we'll undermined her
nervous system. and she was at least
spared the shock of the fire." which,
although not serious-merely spark
from the still slnoldering cigar of a
gentleman visitor, falling in i: scrap
basket full of torn envelopes and
papers-was sufficient to give all the
employees n good fright. and to erase
from the emigrant bureau world all
trace of poor little Honora Hough's
whereabouts as Denciled down on one
of the slips of paper that were de-
stroyed.
She went home with Mrs. Carey,
helped nurse poor little Sarah Carey
on her weary Journey out of the " orld,
took tiIial care of the old lady herself
in the days when rheumatism racked
her every hone and joint. and finally
married Ben himself-MrS. Carey's
son and Sarah's brother-wh0, alas for
the reign of romance! was Il dealer in
rags and bottles. and daily drove Il
cart clamorous with bells and drawn
by Il subdued old gray horse about the
streets.
Il always thought" confessed Hon
ora, 'that | should marry cattle
king when came to this country. or il
rich gold-digger. or something Of that
kind. People get things twisted all
sorts of ways in the old country. But
/ am sure Ben is nicer than any cattle
king could be!'
If | was gold-digger. though"
shrewdly observed Ben, II might have
given you a bigger house than this
little one-storied shanty. and some
thing besides calico to wear"
Il don't want anything but you.
Benz said Honora, her pretty, quaint
erogue accentuated, as it always was.
by strong emotion.
And no millionaire of the lot could
love you better than | do, Nora" said
the young man, simply.
1t was all very well, this loye-in-a-
cottage business, while they were well
and trade held its own. But even in
the ra%-and-bottle profession there is
cOmpetition-and the horse fell lame,
and Ben Carey lay i'll for weeks with
low type of fever. Then it was that,
what with nursing Ben all day. and
walking the floor with the teething
baby at night. and trying to edge in
little clear-starching and fine needle
work for neighborng ladies' furnish
ing store between whites. so that the
store of money in the cracked teapot
on the dresser-shelf need not run quite
dry. Honora grew gaunt and pale, and
her eyes got bigger and bluer day by
day. Yet all this was forgotten in the
delight of the first day when Ben
started out again with the wagon aud
Odd Whitley and the string of camor-
Gus bells, and Honora held the baby
up to the window to laugh and clap his
tiny hands with glee.
Hold on there!" said a hard-feat-
ured man. with dog's-eared memo
randum book under his arm. Not so
fast, Mr.. Carey, if you please. Them
last installments on the 'nrse wasn't
paid. and I've orders to clap down on
him. Our folks has call for just
such 'orse."
Ben turned pale. To lose Old
Whitey-that would, Indeed, be the
cruelest stroke of fate!
Cant you give fellow n little
timer" said he. I've been sick,
and"
.'Oh. yes. that's wot they all saw"
said the man. We've give more
time already than we can afford.
Business is business; and if the back
installments isn't squared up by this
day week the 'orse will be called for
that's ALL"
Poor Carey! Like most American
farmers sons. he had been brought up
to no particular trade or profession,
AID all that day as he tangled his bells
mp one street and down another. low
fnUly Ticking the flies from Old