The record-union., 1893-07-15
JESS MONEY.

were just beginning to thicken at the tips
OF their twigs. The little runways that
slid down the hills carried a faint line of
growth along their edges, as ii tidy Ma
ture had turned over a green hem of
cloth to keep them within bounds. The
precaution seemed needless, though in
touch with the general economic plan.
Elsewhere the grass lay discouragingly
dead and trodden, without a suggestion of
what was to come.
After a few days the sharp edge of the
air was blunted, and as the sap rose and
rioted along the patient tree trunks it set
the dry bark thinking, and swelled the
millions Of leaf buds till they showed
reds and browns and pale yellows against
the cold blue of the sky. one evening a
warm rain fell; the angel on the meet
lng-house steeple veered and blew
his long trumpet toward the south, and
when the sun shone at next midday,
the trees OF the fields clapped their
hands.
Now the contagion Of growth had
seized them every one; and this May
morning, as we sJrOlled along III the dew
after our o'clock breakfast, spelling our
shoes and trailing our flannel gowns, we
saw that the papOose buds had dropped
great hanging sheaths and let out soft
pale-green baby leaves with the rashnesS
of youth. The naples were bright atop,
the horse-chestnuts held up great bou-
quets OF fringed white and green. Ev-
erywhere grew yellow buttercups. Red
sorrel in the fields, red columbine in
crevices of the rocks; the old, barren
earth had indeed broken forth into sing
ing, and these were her nrst quiYering
chords. Painted cup was gay in the
meadows, Jack-in-the-puIp pit was ready
for his sermon, and the swamp was one
Jog OF leaves.
Coming suddenly upon story-and-a-
half house at a turn in the road, we
stopped 10 admire the vines that clam
bered up by the brown picket fence and
hung themselves over when they could
no longer climb. There were bitter
sweet from the woods, and wild ciematls;
and tangled with this transplanted growth
were sweet peas and nasturtiums, reach
ing foolish tendTils nowhere or clinging
TO spears Of grass that bent to every
breath Of wind.
Come right along in-right along in, -
said Uncle Arad, planting his stout staff
in our direction. She'll be proper glad
10 see you"
But at this time" we objected.
'Land what time do ye s'pose it is?
We get our breakfast long O the robins;
an they don't waste none o. the dew
lime, ! reckon. Why, Aunt Iishy she
got her bailin' done an hour ago, an hes
Jest BEN up garnet for d passed. O rags.
She'll be tickled enough to hev you two
come in an help her sort colors. Rag
mats, y know"
We needed no other invitation. The
cool, clean kitchen, with its secured floor
and wide fireplace, where two sticks We're
making bright embers, was the main
room Of the house. Besides this, its roof
covered a tiny, shut-up parlor, bed
room on one side the chimney, and a
large pantry and milkroOn on the other
The window that looked toward the
Westinghouse was brilliant with scarlet
geraniums that love the sunniness and
moisture of a kitchen. A tabby cat curled
on tho hearth gave q honey look to the
somewhat bare room. We had been fire.
quent visitors at the house since our COM
ing 10 Hilltop early i'll the spring, and our
presence was no more disturbing to the
cat than TO Aunt Tishy.
Uncle Arad sat down before the fire
with his hat on, and leaned both hands
on his staff.
''She was a school-teacher some years
back" he began, "an' what she don't
know how to do"
Uncle Arad's pride in his wite's attain
ments came TO no conclusion.
My other Miss Ridge" be added,
'sent the little uns TO school TO her when
=
sixteen that spring Ann died." said
Aunt Iishy, cutting strips OF red flannel
Which we begged TO sew together and
Ioll into balls.
Ann come nix to the boy" said IN
Gle Arad meditatiYely. "Samwell, then
Ann, then Thurzy, then Almiry. All OF
lem went afore their ma. Seems 5 though
twas some other world them days. An
now they're gone where the streets is
paved with gold, an money can't do 'em
Il mite o. good. An here less hes up an
lett me all his prop'ty. Can't take it
with me, as they say, when I've got to le'
90 my hold here. y OF soul TO leave it TO
'cept the missionaries, an wouldn't be Il
drop IN the Ducklt TO them"
The old man got up, heavy with thought,
and sat down on the doOrsill.
Ills a terrible possibility" said
Aunt Tishy, taking up the burden where
lie dropped it, Sometimes | think
and then again l let it alone. But it does
seem-doesn't it?-as if when we've got
through with it we ought to fix it so as
some of our sort could have the use of it.
l never believed in missionarying so
much as some. If a man has Q call to 90
amongst the heather, Pm not going to
put blocks i'll his way. But when he eX-
poets a woman and little children to live
there with him, and bear the brunt OF it,
and keeps the blessing TO himselt-why,
1t gets me right up in arms. Let him
selt-SaCrluCe II he wants to. l like to see
man that can. But 1 don't know. Pve
thought and thought
There was long pause. The cat rose
and stretched herself and tried her claws
on her mistress apron.
There, Tidy, l knew you'd do it," she
SAID mildly as the red and black strips
Slid to the floor. See what a mess YOU
have made! No, you know l can't have
you in my lap. Don't you see I had my
strips all SOrteQ2''
The cat listened with a bored air. turned
resignedly away and jumped for her mas
ter's shoulder.
That's Tidy all over" said Aunt
Tishy, making deeper lap for her balls.
ii won't have her she goes straight TO
him. She thinks she's mad her own way.
now. But about that money. | wish
could have sort of leading OF Providence.
such as some folks have. l think and
think till il seems as II | couldn't You
wonder If there isn't some of my folks
needing 1t, you say, " ell, yes, FIN free
TO tell you, plenty of them. But there's
one OF his sort that l do feel a drawing to-
wards. He's his slster's-well these, you
don't know. But he had one sister. Sa-
lniry, and she didn't do well marrying.
That is. in one way"
'Smlrymus wus her name" put in
Uncle Arad. "'Twan't Scriptur' Int il
b'longed to some O them countries"
'All his folks and hers set against il. -
continued Aunt Ttshy, but she would
have him, and she did. He was a wild.
harum-scarum sort Of boy, mighty fond
OF his book, though. But he was differ
ent. He was made different, l say. and
the old folks didn't know how to get
along with him any more than if he'd
been a live scarecrOw. He was full of his
tricks. and they didn't have any too
much patience. Folks didn't have, very
in