The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1892-09-08
GOLD-HEELED SHOES.

GOLD-HEELED SHOES.
"A million a minute! Gold heels on
my shoes" A tall, spare woman bob
bed up from the blucberry patch and
looked around half guiltily, then drew
a reassured breath, for no one was
within earshot. True as stand here"
she said, addressing mingled multi
tude of ferns, rocks and berry bushes,
"some day I'll do it. And when I'm
worth a million minute I'll have gold
heels to my shoes"
She shut her lips tightly. defying
more thoughts to escape; but even
then the line of her mouth was pleas
ant. She knelt and industriously strip
ped the low bushes, holding her pail
beneath with an experienced hand to
catch the dropping berries. She had
fifteen quarts to deliver at sunset and
the terms of her contract left no time
for monologue.
This was Abby-"Miss" Abby to the
children, Aunt" Abby among the sick,
simply Abby to ordinary adults. Peo-
pie did not trouble themselves about
her name. They did not even think
much about her, but accepted her as
their just due from friendly Provi-
dence. Children discovered her liv-
ing in a little house in the edge of
Pomfrst, and spoke of Miss Abby as
an acquisition. Then some sick man,
yearning for herb remedies, was graft
fled by her, and thereafter declared
Aunt Abby had saved his life! The
wise-those who molled with an eye
single to the inrolling dollar-began
by mistrusting her sincerity and end
ed by questioning her mental balance.
They did not perceive how one could
live by works non-resultant in stipu-
lated wage.
Abby moved toward competency
as steadfastly as did the wise, but by
a different path, pleasanter and as di-
rect. There were happy, kindly faces
along her way. And # they did not
always comprehend her they at least
nodded and smiled encouragingly as
she passed. To such one, brighten
ing some dark turn of the path, she
would say:
"You wait till get my gold-heeled
shoes. Then l can smile for you"
Real gold, Abby?" inquired the
practical one.
"Yes, indeed. Why not? When
you're worth million a minute you
can do that sort of thing"
At sunset she walked, tatigued, to
the village store, and delivered the
berries.
and here's your pay" said the
storekeeper. Eight cents a quart,
fifteen quarts. dollar twenty. What
are you going to do with so much
money, Abby?" with an eXpectant OBJ
lique glance for the benefit of some
dozen loungers.
1T all goes toward those gold-heeled
shoes, !" said Abby, cheerily. Then the
loungers followed the storekeoper in n
laugh
"Abby's all right" said he. after
she went out You don't have to
measure her berries. But she's a 1T
tie queer. A fellow has to laugh al
her now and again"
Abby plowcd her way home along
the dusty July road. "One twenty,
one twenty" she repeated. "There's
another peg in your gold-heeled shoes.
They're coming. coming"
She invimoratcd herself. mind and
body. by this alchemic formula. "Gold-
heeled shoes, to the storekeeper and
his ilk was a vagary for their diversion.
To Abby the words were mere quanti-
tative signs.
The widow Barker and her wayward
son jim were Abby's nearest neigh
bors. Barker pere had served in the
army. After his deatl small pension
came regularly, affording the widow
a meager living. 1t was her sole sup
port, for jim WAS thorn. Upright
mothers quoted him to children as
warning, He even pricked Abby, UNI
til she was half minded to report his
lapses to his mother, when she would
fall in a temper and rate herself round
ly.
"Gold shoes. indeedi | don't deserve
leather. As if that woman didn't have
trouble enough without its being piled
on freel Providence has been too
good to me; there's nobody to mourn
over; nobody to worry over. A lit
tie cross like this will do me good"
Abby had intended to stop for mo-
uent's chat with the widow, but the
house seemed deserted and she passed
on.
"It's pension day." she thought Il
know where she is. Upstairs crying
for him that's gone. Blue-blue as
she can be. HIM! I'm blessed that
my past don't sorrow me. nor my fu
ture either. There it is now. Million
a minute. Gold-heeled shoes! Keep
it up!"
Abby spoke of wealth with rich ex-
aggerstion. Her ideal independence
was simply freedom from debt. She
had one desire that ruled her life-and
that TO possess a home. The knowl-
edge that her landlord might, on
lapse of payment. turn her out. rode
her as sense of inferiority. E>r ma
terial standing seemed as insecure as
her credit. But to own the ground
she walked on, that was to wear gold
heeled shoes. Every step left the i'm
press of wealth's inequality. All her
efforts, then, were directed to the re-
duction of the insufferable mortgage
that threatened her home.
She labored hard in every channel
known to single countrywomen. She
picked and sold berries. She gathered
and cured sweettlag. She had patch
of garden with many herbs in it, and
otharS Sba rra +barad wild oDd J,.;a1 in