Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-11-18

The gloomy prospect seemed to rslect
shs low on Mr.. Astange's countenance
A shndder ran o, or his slender figure.
he turned back in the room again and
questioned:
What is it my duty to dor"
de clasped his hands behind his back.
They were thin, slender, not cruel, per-
haps, but not the full, rather redundant
form OF happy. joyous. generous dis
position.
There came the pattering of tiny foot
steps down the marble hall outside. Baby
hands beat upon the massive walnut
door; sweet, lisping voice called.
Papa. yant to tum in"
change came over tbs face Of the man
standing there. A great, eager light
sprang up in his eyes; q tender, loving
expression, made the hard countenance
noble.
He opened the door.
little miss of three or four summers
stood in the dark hallway outside.
Papa, she exclaimed, us afaid: see,
rs tored my dress, and nurse told me
touldn't wear it. She will whip me,
'tause 1t is Sunday dress, ana I put it
on myself, while she was out with Belle. !"
She held up torn fabric of lace and
embroidery. and her great dark eyes
looked at her father appealinely. He
lifted her in his arms, aud pressed the
bright red hair on his shoulder as he
kissed her.
you know papa would not allow any
one to strike you, Olga. he murmured.
But Lydia told nurse to-" said the lit
tie one, stroking his face, and Belle
laughed at me, though she pushed me,
and made me tored it"
Your sisters should be ashamed of
themselves. If l catch them telling tales,
or teasing you, IN see which will get
whipped, assented the father, sternly.
Il doesn't want them to c'y," she de-
clared. ley hurt me sometimes, but
yon't hurt dem. Papa, wish had a
mamma here, not in heaven. l don't like
Lydia for a mamma. Tell me about my
own"
Albert Astange sighed.
on life-sized oil painting hanging over
the mantel..
1t was the portrait Of young and
beautiful girl; girl with lurking
shadow of sorrow in her brown eyes, q
look Of pain around her full mouth.
Your mother" said the father, repress.
ing his feelings, was Southern girl
Her parents were Of Spanish descent,
and they called her Dolores"
How I wish my name was Dolores!'
interrupted the little girl
1T would have been. had not you,
mother desired to name you after o
friend. Darling, just before she died.
she asked me to call you Olga. l have
tried to grant every rogue at she ever made
me. bore her body back to her sunny
South; l have paid her memory every
tribute man could pay, and for her sake
idolize you, Olga!"
The child seemed lost in thought
She was not Belle and Lydia's nam.
ma, was she?" she asked presently.
NO; I was married before ever met
went South to inquire about a man who
had welded my sister. Then met Do
lores. She had just lost her fortune, and
l induced her to marry me"
Because she had lost her fortune?"
questioned the child.
Her fathers hands relaxed their hold
on her. He looked like man who had
had slap in the face. Olga wound her
arms about his neck and kissed him; in
stinct seemed to tell her he was suffering.
At this moment the door opened, and
two girls entered the room-one about
ten, the other twelve years of age.
Olga, nurse wants you, said the older
one.
Lydia" said her father, Il desire to
speak to you one moment. If hear of
Your teasing your little sister again, you
shall be whipped. Belle, if you laugh
when you think Olga is going to be pun
ished, you shall be punished yourself.
You may both tell nurse for me if she
dares lay her hand on Olga she shall be
dismissed at once. Now leave me alone
with my baby"
The children, abashed. went out, but
Belle paused to mutter spitefully:
olga is a tattler"
AS the door closed upon them Mr..
Astange kissed the little creature clinging
to him, very tenderly.
Olga, he murmured, how would you
like to have me bring little girl home,
here. for you to play with; another sister
for you to love?"
oh, papa, DON'T begged Olga. Il
should hate another sister, they are SO
cross"
But this child is younger than your
self. mere little baby, two years old"
Then everybody would love her morn
me, and l would be mis'able," said the
child: Babies are always the pets, Belle
says.
Her father knit his brows in thought.
He attentively scrutinized Olga's coun-
tenance. She was not a beautiful child.
Her hair was very red. her eyes too large
for her small face, and her forehead and
nose were both out of proportion with her
size. 1t occurred to her father if she were
contrasted with a truly beautiful child.
she would be considered plain.
He put her down, signing.
Run along and play, dear, he said, and
opened the door for her to depart.
lTO BE Continued