Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1892-10-21
EQUAL TO THE TEST.


''Oh, dear, mol Bessie HunrIl ney
amount to much of anything. Pret
enough, If any one fancies red hs
and eyes that have yellow CLINT
them like a tigers, but that never w
my style of beauiyl Give inc gi
'hat has something more subslanti
'han mere good looks to fall baS
on II the time should ever come wbe
II Is necessary, instead of a girl wi
has nothing more than some mould
classic on the end of her tongue. a
some frittery fancy work forever /
her fngersln
"La, sakes, brother" fcebly exnos
tulated Mrs. Hunt, "you look as if !
were really going to be! know Res
sic is fond of her books and prett,
femlnine fancies, but | don't blams
tho girl. l used 10 like 'em when
was her agel But know she aim,
any more like Jessica or Minerva than
they are like herr
Abram Alvey was too deenlv on.
crossed in his subject to heed Tho
quiet sarcasm in the last portion of
her response.
"kight, Emily retortcd, quickly
"no more she ain'tl Jess or Min
could take hold and do for Themselves
If they should ever have to, but Bessie
re-laugli'' -,
ACROSS The window near which Abram
Alvey sat, neither did they hear the
footsteps which approached the open
door, then stole swiftly and quietly
away. A tall, slender girl, with wavy
masses of red-brown hair clustering
around asweet, serious face, out of
which shone the wide brown eyes
which had in them the "yellow CLINT"
to which Abram Alvey objected.
Unwittingly Bessie Hunt had over
heard the whole of tlieir conversation
which alluded to herl She had book
In her hand, and as she turned away
there was just suspicion of tears on
the long, silken fringe of lashes around
the brown eyes, a tremor in the
curved, sensitive lips.
"I wonder," she murmured, as she
went swiftly down the grass-grown
path to her favoritc haunt under a
clump of graceful. silvery larches, "if
am so very uselessP Uncle Alvey
certainly thinks so! But" with a
sigh, 81 never had the strength to
do all that Jessie and Minnie might
l wish l had, thought"
Poor child, she did net-snow. as
she uttered this vain wish, that it was
literally like grating the fair, frail
orchid blossom on the strong, hardy
Northern rosel The harsh remarks
that she III d overheard ranked deeply
In her heart just now.
But "frnih is stranger than fiction y
Sammy skies and fair promises sur-
rounded Myrtle Farm and its inhabi-
tants at present. There was no fear
of casualties in the heart of honest
John Hunt, for, as he said, he'd slaid
by considerable pile to use on a
rainy day." if the time ever came.
But they had no fear of its coming.
not they!
But, las for the constituencies of hu-
manityl Down in the progressive
town, near the outskirts of which
stood Myrtle Farm, once a week john
Hunt carried a goodly load of farm
produce; there he heard conversations
which set him to thinking. Men
talked of making lifetime fortune in
some bold speculation; of getting
"corners in grain, buying "low,"
then selling "high," and, although he
did not just understand as clearly as
he ought, he would ponder these things
as he jolted homeward ever the rough
country roads, and the more he
thought the more fascinated and
tempted he became.
At last, one bright morning he
started for the market as usual. but
beneath his coat, securely wadded into
snug roll into his vest pocket, was a
large roll of bills.
He was going to try his luck. IL
would be such fine thing for the
home folks, he argued to himself. if
he happened to come out ahead. No
thought of the other possibility seemed
to trouble him.
He seemed unusually restless for
the next few days after his return
He was singularly anxious to read Tho
daily papers.
"a body'd thisk you'd been snecu.
latin, john" observed Mrs. Hunt.
one day, as she repeated some remarks