The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1892-04-08
miscellaneous.
GOLD-HEELED SHOES.
BY GEORGE I. PUTNAM.

| .
Harper's Bazaar.
"a million minute! Gold heels on
! my shoes - A tall spare woman bob.
bed up from the blueberry patch and
| looked around half guiltily, then drew
| a treasured breath, for no one was
within ear-shot. True as | stand
here,n she said, addressing a 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 pleas
ant. 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 ac
cepted her as their just due from a
friendly Providence. Children dis
covered her living in a little house in
| the edge of Pomfret, and spoke of Miss
Abby as an acquisition. Then some
sick man, yearning for herb remedies,
| was gratified by her, and thereafter
| declared Aunt Abby had saved his
| life. The wise-those who moiled
with an eye single to the inrolling dol
lar-began by mistrusting her SINGER
ity, and ended by questioning her
mental balance. They did not per-
| ceiye how one could live by works
non-resultant in a stipulated wage.
Abby moved towards competency
as steadfastly as did the wise, but by
q different path, pleasanter and as
direct. There were happy, kindly
faces along her way. And if they did
not always comprehend her, they at
| least nodded and smiled encouragingly
as she passed. To such a one, bright
ening some dark turn of the path, she
you wait till get my gold-heeled
shoes. Then l can smile for YOU"
Real gold, Abby?'' inquired the
practical one.
Eyes, indeed. Why not? When
you're worth 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
storekeeper. Eight cents quart,
( fifteen quarts, dollar twenty. What
| you going to do with so much money,
! Abby - with an expectant Oblique
glance for the benefit of some dozen
| loungers.
at all goes towards those gold-heel-
ed Shoes said Abby, cheerily. Then
IN a laugh.
"Abby's all right" said he, after
she went out. 'You don't have to
measure her berries. But she's little
queer. A fellow has to laugh at heI
now and again.
! Abby ploughed her way home
along the dusty July road. Zone
twerty, one twenty" she repeated.
"There's days work for you. There s
another peg in your gold-heeled shoes,
They're coming, coming"
| She invigorated herself, mind and
I body, by this alchemic formula
| "Gold-heeled shoes to the storekeep-
er and his ilk was a vagary for then
| diversion. To Abby the words were
mere quantitative signs.
The widow Barker, with her way,
| ward son Jim, were Abby's nearest
neighbors Barker pere had served
in the navy. After his death a small
pension came regularly, affording the
widow meagre living. 1t was hel
sole support, for Jim was thorn
Upright mothers quoted him to chill
dren as warming. He even pricked
Abby, until she was half minded to
report his lapses to his mother, when
she would fall in a temper, and rate
herself roundly.
"Gold shoes, indeed l don't de
serve leather. AS if that woman
didn't have trouble enough without its
being piled on free Providence has
been too good too me there's nobody
to mourn over nobody to worry over
A little cross like this will dome good. y
Abby had intended to stop for a
moments chat with the widow, but
the house appeared deserted, and she
passed on.
Its pension day. she thought
81 know where she is. Upstairs cry
ing for him that's gone. Blue-blue
as she can be. HIM! I'm blessed
that my past don't sorrow me, nor my
future neither There it is now
|
Keep it up y
Abby spoke of wealth with rich ex
aggeration. Her ideal independence
was simply freedom from debt. She
had one desire that ruled her life
and that, to possess a home. The
knowledge that her landlord might
on lapse in payment, turn her out,
rode her as a sense of inferiority. Her
material 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 equality. All hel
efforts, then, were directed to the re
duction of the insufferable mortgage
that threatened her home.
She labored hard in every channe
known to single countrywomen. She
picked and sold berries. She gathered
and cured sweetfiag. She had patch
of garden with many herbs in it, and
others she gathered wild and dried in
branches for the druggist 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 round.
By years of patient toll Abby had
reduced the amount of the mortgage tC
one hundred dollars. And one night
when she looked at her handbook and
counted the days receipts, she found
enough to cancel the debt. 1t was 8
matter of verification only, for she
knew to cent the state of her finances
PardonalAy she wept a little thai
her work was accomplished. The
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