Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1892-04-15
GOLD-HEFLED SHOES.
BY GEORGE l. PUTNAM.

BY GEORGE /. PUTNAM.
ga million minute! Gold heels
on my shoes!" A tall spare woman
bobbed up from the blueberry patch
and looked around half guitily, then
drew a reassured breath, for 10 one
was within ear-shot. "Truc as |
stand here" she said, addressing a
mingled multitude of ferns, rocks and
berry bushes, "some day I'll do it.
And when Pm worth million q min
ute, I'll have gold heels to my shoes"
She shut her lips tightly, defying
moro thoughts to escape; but even
then the line of her mouth was peas
ant. She knclt and indusiriously
stripped the low bushes, holding her
pail beneath with an experienced hand
to catch the dropping berries. She
had Is quarts TO deliver at sunset, and
the terms of her contract left no time
for monologue.
This was Abby-"Miss" Abby to the
children, "Aul' Abby among the
sick, simply Abby to ordinary adults.
People did not trouble themselves
about her surname. They did not
even think much about her, but accept
cd her as their just due from friend
ly Providence. Children discovered
her living in little house in the edge
of Pomfret, and spoke of Miss Abby
as all acquisition. Then some sick
man, yearning for herb remedies, was
gratilied by her and thereafter declared
Aunt Abby had saved his life. The
wise those who moiled with an eve
single to the inrolling dollar-began
by mistrusting her sincerity, and
ended by questioning her mental bal
ance. They did not perceive how
one could live by works non-resutant
in stipulated wage.
Abby moved towards a competency
as steadfastly as did the wise, but by
a different path, plcasantcr and as di-
rect There were happy, kindly faces
along her way. Aud if they did not
always comprehend her, they at least
nodded and smiled encouragingly as
she passed. To such a one, brighten
ing some dark turn of the path, she
would say:
"You wait till l get my gold-heo'ed
shoes. Then l can smile for YOU"
"Real gold, Abby?" inquired The
practical one.
eyes, indeed. Why noi? When
you're worth million a minute, you
can do that sort of thing"
AT sunset she walked, fatigucd, to
the village store, and delivered the
berries.
"And here's your pay" said the
storekceper. Eight cents a quart,
fifteen quarts, dollar twenty. What
you going to DO with so much money,
Abby?' with an expcctant oblique
glance for the benefit of some dozen
loLngers.
alt all goes towards those gold
hceled Shoes said Abby, chccrily.
Then the loungcrs followed the store
keeper in laugh.
"Abby's all right" said he, after
she went out. "You don't have to
measure her berries. But She's a
little queer. A follow has to laugh at
her now and again."
Abby ploughed her way homo along
the dusty July road. cone twenty,
one twenty" she repeated. "There's
days work for you. There's another
peg in your gold-heelcd shoes. They're
coming, coming"
She invigorated herself, mind and
body, by this alchemic formula.
"Gold-heelcd shoes" to the storekcopcr
and his ilk was vagary for their
diversion. To Abby the words were
mere quantatlve signs.
The widow Barker, with her way
ward son Jim, wcrc Abby's nearcs:
neighbors. Barker pcre had served in
the navy. After his death a small
pension came regularly, afTording the
widow a meagro living. 1t was her
sole support, for Jim was a thorn.
Upright mothers quoted him to c.il-
drcn as a warning. He even pricked
Abby until she was half minded to