Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-06-02
MISS sMARY'S SECRET.

y 49, t'a7.afE az W.
Miss Mary Jones was an old maid
What causes had led to that result it
boots not here to say, but the fact re
mains that she was a spinster of the
mature age Of 60 years. But ma
ture" was never the right word to
apply to Miss Mary She seemed al
ways immature. From her teens she
had been docile, plant and easily
led. and now at 60 she still seemed
hardly grown up. She was still
pretty, even dainty to look at. Her
snow white hair was arranged as
deftly as it had been at 16, and she
blushed as readily now as then.
Miss Mary Jones lived in suburb
with only one servant, older than
herself Betsy Mills. Miss Mary was,
so report said, the daughter of sea
captain and had been brought up
for a LADY," but nobody knew much
more of her than this. Betsy Mills
was close, and Miss Mary was not
given to gossip. but as the local par
lance went kept herself to herself"
The two women lived in one Of
those ugly little 4-roorned, semi.
detached villa residences" which
abound in questionable suburbs,
with an uninviting looking strip of
lawn and oyster shells in front and
an equally unpleasant slug ridden
plot behind. But Miss Mary, who
was fond of gardening, had trained
a pretty yellow jessamine over the
rickety porch, and she liked the
oyster shells because they reminded
her of the sea-"
Betsy Mills, a hard featured, tall
old woman, as lean as scarecrOw,
though she was hard as ,adamant to
every one else, rarely spoke other
wise than softly to her mistress. She
humored her fads, respected her
weaknesses and never scolded her
except when necessary. Miss Mary
she always called her, with almost a
tender infection in her voice, and
hence the neighbors also never spoke
of her as anything else than miss
Mary"
Miss Mary was charitable to fault.
Her house was very refuge Of the
destitute. To it flocked all the beg
gars and imposters in the neighbor
hood, sure Of relief. No tale was too
feeble, no story too disjointed, to i'm
pose upon this tender hearted old
lady. Betsy, who saw through every
thing. and who was made OF mate
rial as stern as Miss Mary's was soft,
regarded herself as shield inter
posed by heaven to protect her mis-
tress. who would otherwise long ago
have flung her whole substance to
crowd of greedy beggars. But even
she could not prevent Miss Marys
continual raids on the scanty larder.
"Ye'd leave nothing at all for yer
SELF she grumbled, IF didn't look
after yer like mother and be for
ever at yer back"
Miss Mary would occasionally pick
I'D lost children whom she found cry
ing in the streets and bring them
home, to Betsy's indignation and her
own confusion, for they would gen.
orally sit crying after the manner OF
lost children and refuse to eat until
called for by their parents. Through
this same charitable officiousness
Miss Mary once found herself in the
position of nearly having a parish
baby saddled upon her altogether
but this Betsy refused to allow, put
ting her foot down firmly for once.
''She amt nothing but a baby her
self, bless yer, sir" she informed the
police sergeant on that memorable
occasion. But the fact was Miss
Mary had a softer heart even than
usual where children were concerned
"Oh, Betsy" she said, hurrying NJ
to her mentor" with tears in hei
eyes, heres a poor woman come td
the door with matches. She's got
drunken husband and Is children
one of them q triplet-all of tender
Sixteen, has shei Ali that's one
thing they can all ave" grumbled
Betsy, unmoved, as she wended hen
way up stairs with her broom.
There was a diplomacy in Betsyi
departure. If Miss Mary would give
away the poor contents of the lardel
again, let her not be there TO see. a
set OF greedy, grasping wretches
Mutinous, she seized the broom with
yigor and began to sweep her mis-