Feliciana sentinel. [volume] (St. Francisville, La.) 1877-1892, 1892-05-07

from the blue berry Patch ano lookeu
around half guilty, then drew re-
assured breath, for no one was within
ear-shot. True as stand here" she
said, addressing mingled multitude of
ferns, rocks and berry bushes, ''some
day I'll do it. And when I'm worth
million a 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 pleasant.
She knelt and industriously stripped 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
People did not trouble themselves
about her surname. They did not
even think much about her, but nc-
cepted her as their just due from a
friendly providence. Children discov-
cred her living in a little house in the
edge of Pomfret, and spoke of Miss Abb
by as an acquisition. Then some sick
man, yearning for herb remedies, was
gratifed by her, and thereafter declared
Aunt Abby had saved his life. The
wise-those who moiled with an eye
single to the inrolling dollar-began by
mistrusting her sincerity and ended by
questioning her mental balance. They
did not perceive how one could live by
works non-resultant in a stipulated
wage.
Abby moved towards a 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 if they did not al
ways comprehend her they at least
nodded and smiled encouragingly as
she passed. To such a one, Frightening
some dark turn of the path, she would
say:
.You wait till I get my gold-heeled
shoes. Then can smile for YOU"
Real gold, Abby" inquired the
practical one.
Eyes, indeed. Why not? When
you're worth million minute you
can do that sort of thing"
At sunset she walked, fatigued, tt
the village store and delivered the Der
ries-
"And here's your pay" said The
etorekeeper. Eight cents a quart
fifteen quarts, dollar twenty. VIVA
you going to do with SO much money
Abby?" with an expectant, obliqu'
glance for the benefit of some dozeI
ioungers.
1T all goes towards those gold-heelet
Shoes" said Abby, chez rily. Then thu
aoungers followed the storekeeper in I
laugh.
.Abby's all right" said he, after sh
went out. "You don't have to measur
her berries. But she's little queer
A fellow has to laugh at her now an
again"
Abby plowed her way home along tn
dusty July road. 'One twenty, on
twenty" she repeated. There's day
work for you. There's another peg i
your gold-hceled shoes. They're CON
ing, coming
She invigorated herself. mind an
h,ody, by this alchemic formula "Golt
heeled shoes" to the storekeeper an
his ilk was vagary for their diversion
To Abby the words were mere quaint
tative signs.
The widow Barker, with her wa,
ward son Jim, were Abby's neares
neighbors. Barker pere had served
the navy. Af.er his death a small pei
sion came regularly, affordiug tn
widow a mcager living. 1t was her sol
support, for Jim was a thorn. Uprigf
mothers quoted him to children as
warning. He even pricked Abby, unit
she was half minded to report his laps.
to his mother, when she would fall
. temper, and rate herself roundly.
.'Gold shoes, indeed! I don't deser,
leather! As II that woman didn't ha,