Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1892-11-24

lUth hlu " 4
live bv works non-resulsant in q stipu-
lated wage.
Abby moved toward a competency
as steadfastly as did the wise, but by
a different path, pleasanter n as d.
rect. There were happy, kindly races
along her way. And If they dld not
always comprehend her they at least
nodded and smiled cncouragingly as
she passed. To such a one, brighten
ING some dark turn of the path, she
would say: -,
you wait till 1 get my gold-heeled
shoes. Then | can smile for YOU
Real gold, Abby?" inquired the
"Ycs, indeed. Why not? When
you're worth a million a minute you
can do that sort of thing"
At sunset she walked, fatigued, to
the village store and delivered the
berries.
And here's your pay said the
s~tGrekeeper. Eight cents a quart,
fifteen quarts, dollar twenty. What
are wa going to do with so much
money, Abby?" with an expectant OBJ
lique glance for the benefit OF some
dozen loungers.
at all zoe toward those gold-heeled
shoes" said Abby, cheerily. Then the
loungcrs followed the ~storekceper in a
laugh.
"Abby's all right" said he, after
she went out. You don't have to
measure her berries. But she's a lit
tie queer. A fellow has to laugh at
her now and again"
Abby plowed her way home along
the dusty July road. One twenty,
one twenty" she repeated. There's
another peg in your g~old-heeled shoes.
They're coming, coming"
She invigorated herself, mind and
body, by this alchemic formula. "Gold-
heeled shoes" to the st~orekeeper and
his ilk was a vagary for their diversion.
To Abby the words were mere quanti-
tative signs.
The widow Barker and her hayward
son Jim were Abby's nearest neigh
bors. Barker pere had served in the
army. After his death a small pension
came regularly, affording the widow
a meager living. 1t was her sole sup
port, for Jim was a thorn. Upright
mothers quoted him to children as a
warning, He even pricked Abby, IN
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. indeed! / don't deserve
leather! As if that woman didn't have
trouble enough without its being piled
on free! 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 a mo-
trent's chat with the widow, but the
house seemed deserted and she passed
on.
"Gt'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 hat
my past don't sorrow me, nor my flu
ture either. There it is now! Million
r minute! G~old-heeled shoes! Keep
it up!"
Abby spoke of wealth with rich ex.
aggeration. Her ideal independence
was simply freedom from debt. She
had one desire hat ruled her life-and
that 10 possess a home. The knowl-
edge that her landlord might, on a
lapse of payment, turn her out, rode
her a. a sense of inferiority. Her ma
terial standing seemed rs insecure as
her credit. But to own the ground
she walked on, that was to wear gold
heeled shoes. Every step left the inn
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 sweetfag. She had a patch
Of garden with many herbs in 1t, and
others she gathered wild and dried in
punches for the druggists and medi-
cine makers. She stitched boots when
that seldom work offered. She knit
and sewed. She did not know an idle
moment the year around.
BY years of patient toll Abby had
reduced the amount of the mortgage
to $780, And one night, when she
looked at her bank book and counted
the days receipts, she found enough
to cansel the debt. 1t was a matter of
verification only. for she knew to a
cen the state of her finances.
~Pardonably she wept a little that her
work was accomplished. The goal was
reached she had set, and beyond which
she had not before looked. Now she
vas brought face to face with blank
ness. Whittier should she wander
through it, and what should she strive
for? She asked herzelf these qucs-
tons, for il was borne in upon her that
the old desire was a thing of the past,
being gratitied, and that She must dis
cover a new one. Through anticipa-
ton her hope had mirrored brightly,
but now she found its reverse side
dull, and with the disappointment
mingled a bitter surprise that it was
so.
The widow broke in upon this con-
iured-up sadness with real living sor-
row OF her own. She was crying, and
all Abby's heart tenderness went out
to her at once, for the widow was a
proud little woman. and had kept her
griefs at home until now, fairly driven
for consolation to Abby's kindly arms.
And there she lay and sobbed her
story-how Jim had been placed under
bonds and had broken them, and could
not pay and must go away to some
prison. Little by little she lay bare
the trial of desolate years, and abby
listened alphabetically.
"Jim could get away" said the
widow; she would go into the navy. as
his father did. Jim always wanted to,
but | couldn't let him go; he is all /
have. He can do nothing else, and i
would not let him go. | was so selfish
i kept him against his leaning-and
now he must 60 to prison. 1t is a
judgment on me-"
And Abby consoled her distress and
lulled her TO rest as gently as she
would a grieving child.
The next day Abby strobe down the
white road to the village and drew all
her money from the bank. The
cashier joked her upon extravaganza.
Going to buy g~old-heeled shoes
now, Abby?"
She looked up smiling. "Yes. my
gold-heeled shoes. Took a long time
TO pay for them. didn't it,"
Il wish we might all get them il il
would make us look as happy as you
5 do now" said he.
Abby marched from the bank into
the presence of the town officials sit
ting on Jim Bankers case. The con-
stable was there, ready TO conduct Kim
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