Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1893-01-04

renee, the nelghborS said, when he
''made up his mind, which he often did
hastily. When Baby Mildred stamped
defiance at HIM, he laughed proudly.
Got n mind of her own, our little
gal has; she's a chip off the old block, ~
said josiah, who prided himself on his
stubbornness, though he did not call
1t by that name. But as she grew
older, 1t became lrksome and gradu-
ally more antagonistic, until he de.
clared she was only pleased when he
was displeased, and holding to the
belief that a child's will must be
broken, he BEGAN too late in a
mistaken course of discipline.
The gentle, tactful mother in
terposed as a non-conducter of the
family stormclOuds, and averted much
unpleasantness. She understood Mil
dred, and the girl loved her mother
deeply, and in her father absence was
thoughtful and affectionate. So things
went on until it came to a choice of
two lovers, one a man her father
favored, the other whom she loved with
all her passionate nature. Strict meas
ures were take with her until, two
years before, she ran away with George
Alden Josiah Bigelow, lin hot haste,
had sent word that he never wanted
her to darken bis door again, that she
WAS a disgraceful, thankless child His
wife dared not oppose him, and six
months later Mildred and her husband
disappeared. Whether the fathers
heart ever yearned for his only child
not even his wife knew, though she
tried in many ways. He had locked
the little cabinet organ that he had
bought for Mildred, not n note had
been heard since she left home, no one
was allowed to touch it. And tune
dragged wearlly on.
The $50 p. m. train was little late.
Very few passengers got of, and still
fewer took the coach for Lanesville,
three miles distant. 1t was still snow
ing. There we're four passengers, one
of whom, slight women IN black, with
baby wrapped closely, seemed a
stranger. The three others were men
full of rural curiosity, but lacking the
address and effrontory to crafty 1t by
interrogating her, were obliged to re-
main silent. There was something in
her manner dignified and forbidding.
The coach went merrily over tine snow.
Presently the woman said SON ething
to the driver He started and looked
at her intently. She paid him and
left. starting to walk down a lane.
"AIust be goin' to Brighamses,' said
one man, peering after her.
mo, the Brighamses are gone to
town to spend Christmas with their
son"
"WeiI there's nobody else down that
road but the Marshalis'; and that's
morn a mile"
"If it wasn't snowin' so, like Jehu
I'd git out and jest satisfy myself about
1t. There's something wrong, |
know" said the third. When they
were ont of sight and soHnl the
woman cJme back to the main road
'It's about half mile further" she
said to herself. "but | did not dare to
stay In that coach with Silas Green, his
prying old eyes would find me out
before long"
On through the deep snow struggled
Mildred Alden with her six months
old baby in her arms. just a mouth
before her husband bad died suddenly,
leaving her destitute. And was she
coming back under cover of the storm
aud darkness to her old home for shell
ter? The familiar outlines OF the old
house rose before her, draped in the
soft snow that was still falling gently.
She closed her eyelids to drive ont the
tears that made the whole world seem
one great white, blurred tomb, and
presently stood at the gate where she
and George had gone out together, as
she vowed passionately that she would
never enter IT again unless he was with
her. Here she stood alone with no
dear arm to sustain her as then, but
with the child of their love at her
heart, for whose sake she was here.
''He babe me never darken his door
again, and l shall not, though | should
die on the threshold, she said choking
back the sobs of agony that shook her;
''but must leave my baby in my dear
old mothers arms until / can earn
living for us. He cannot turn
bIm away" She pushed the gate open
and looked cautiously around.
"There is nothing to fear, they are
sound asleep long ago" and's walked
hurriedly by the house till she came to
the barn and entered, closing the door
quickly. Bess and Brownie stamped
and snorted; she spoke to them and
bundle candle, lighted it, setting it
on the floor, it showed the old barn as
vast cavern of darkness. Here and
there the familiar beams and rafters
glimmered out recognition. She laid
her baby on her shawl and went to the
stalls. One was empty. Gipsy, her
little pony, was gonei
"Wbo can blame them?" she said
with a sob as she laid her cheek on old
Bess. "They don't want anything to
remind them of me-"
Star twisted her head around her
stall, wrinkling her broad, fiat neck,
rolling her great white-brown eyes at
the intruder.
''You don't know me, do You Star?
Sob, soh-I want yon to do me favor
though; put your head in this stall, L
want to use yours" Star submitted in
a dignifed manner and chewed
leisurely.
BY the glimmering light Mildred
climbed the haymow and tossed down
some sweet, fresh hay into Stars form
er manger until it was almost full.
Here she would rest with her baby
until near morning and then walk back
in time to get the seven o'clock train
to the city before anyone should see
her. She knew her father would come
to the barn at five O'Clock to see to the
cattle, and her child would be safe until
then. She pinned note on the shawl
that was wrapped around him, and
then sat down on the threshing-foor of
the great barn.
Here was where she had swung when
child; here she fioated through the
warm summer air, light as thistledown
whom the great doors were open oppo-
site each other. Often her father
swung her, and tossed her on the hay,
or carried her on his broad shoulder
so far from the ground-she clutched
his close-curlIng hair and screamed in
nervous glee He was not stern then,
but loving and indulgent. Why had
he changed so? She had q right to
marrr the man she loved better than
life; what right had ne to say such