The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1892-03-23
HAT -

ssHat! Yo' lazy, shirkin' thing!
What d'yeh mean b. layin' abed like a
drunken shote It this hyar time O. dayP
Git upi dye heah me?"
As Orrin Halpine's voice might have
done duty as fog-horn, and as, by
couple of steps of the
rickety ladder leading to the attic, he
could have shouted his morning greet
ing into his step-daughter's very ear,
it is needless ta-state that his last
query was entirely superfiuous. Per-
haps he thought so, too, for he did
not wait for any reply, but turned and
dumped out to the forlorn little lean
to, out by the big rocks, which he
by the name "stable," whence
the sounds which presently issued in
formed the occupants of the house
that he was venting some of his bad
temper on his two Unfortunate horses.
Up in the little, stuffy attic girl
knelt, staring stonily out of the tiny
window, through which the morning
sun, rising over Redtop, had shot a
blistering ray and wakened her, long
before Orrin Halpine had called her.
From the room below came the cross,
whining voices of two or three of the
little Halpines, quarreling over the
possession of little, scrawny, blear-
eyed kitten one of them had found at
Gray's boarding-eamp the day before.
Several big blue flies buzzed drowsily
on the pane. From the stable came
the sound of Kicks and curses, and the
plunging of frightened horses. Out
by the hen-house, old Podge, one Of
Orrin Halpine's starved-looking mis-
cradle dogs, lay asleep. Two-year-old
Bud toddled up and kicked him, as he
had seen his father do, and the dog
ran away terrified, but without yelp.
The Halpine dogs got kicked for yelp-
ing, as Podge knew only too well.
The girl at the window in the attic
dropped her head and groaned.
"Oh, dear! s'pose all ov s1m'n be
like him. Pore mammy-pore, broke.
down, tired nanny! Jes' t think eet e
they all grows up brutes, like the'l
pop! An how kin it be ever helped
when they all sees and hears him, al
tn time drunk, an swearin', an cuss
in, an busin' nanny, an them, an
tn pore, dumb critters? cyan't stan
this no morei"
Above the wrangling of the children
and the c1atter of breakfast dishes rose
a tired, cracked female voice: Hattie!
Hat-tee! Air yo' up?"
The girl at the window rose slowly
to her feet, wiped her eyes, and
clambered down the little ladder, nea1
the foot of which stood the family
wash-stand, consisting of rude bench,
on which stood a pail of water, with a
gourd in it, and tin basin.
Hattie washed herself, wiped on the
long roller-towel near by, deftly fasten-
ed up her long, thick, wavy hair, anC
began to assist her mother in getting
breakfast, without word.
They did not look like mother anC
daughter, these two women. Mrs. Hal
pine, at II, had been an uncommonl5
pretty girl. At 36 she was old, thin
faded, with weak, tremulous mouth
and unkempt, half-bleached hair-a1
old woman before her time, worn will
rheumatism and toll and child-bearing
She had never known anything bette
only for brief year, and that wa
so long ago that the memory was al
indistinct one. Fred Barnett came t.
the mountains, from Nashville, t.
fish and hunt, and sketch and pas
a quiet summer. He came to Wood
sons Gap, and met Tillie Parsons ant
his six weeks outing became twelve
and the twelve weeks became a year
for he and Tillie were married, and h
stayed and worked the little mountain
farm-stayed because his people ha'
written to him that he need not com
home. except alone.
1t was not the life for handsome
scholarly, luXury-loving Fred Barnett
and one cool October night, after a da
of restless wandering in the woods, h
wrote a few letters, kissed his wifi
tenderly, and went to sleep never t
waken.
Tillie cried a good deal, but he
heart did not break; and when tn
baby came, three months later, he
sorrow only expressed itself in the wis
| that Fred might have been there t
see the little one.
Then, when big Orrin Halpine, VIII
| had been so attentive to her siste
Susie, suddenly asked her to MARI
him-principally because Susie ha
refused him, but Tillie did not kno
it-she consented, and for a whi
was just as happy as though Ere
Barnett had never come to Woodson
Gap.
! Babies came, and more babies, an
Hattie grew into girlhood and woman
hood almost before her mother notice
it. Then-only a year gone by
letter had come from Fred Barnett
mother-a carefully worded epistl
saying that if Hattie would come
her, and leave everything in the o
life, she would do well for her, al
bring her up a lady, as became
daughter of the Barnetts.
Hattie read the letter with thro
bing heart and flushed cheeks. Ho
often the poor child had dreamed al
hoped for this very opportunity!
90 to school-to learn, and see, al
know the great world. And then
then But "then" was too far in t
future to come within the scope of
imagination, and she took the lette
in great glee, to her mother, n
dreaming that Mrs. Halpine would
one whit less pleased than she hers
was. The elder woman read MI
Barnett's note, and, after the fashi
of such weak creatures, wilted into
chair and wept-not for joy, but f
reasons purely selfish, which HIATT
l readily understood, for she crumpl
the letter in her little clenched hal