The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1893-07-09
was a secret between the young singer

and himself
As the tears began to fill the eyes of
Miss Prescott the squire added: We'll,
you know, Matilda, we've all got to
make room for the young fry, whether
we want to or not OF course / don't
mean that you are old, but you have a
good home and enough to live on be-
sides, and this girl is poor and / want
to give her start She and her sister
are boarding in town, and she tells me
their father has all he can do to pay
their expenses while they are getting
their musical education.
| Having delivered his message the
squire left the house as soon as he
could His departure was not delayed,
as poor Matilda was SO taken aback
by the news she had heard that she
had no words at hand with which to
make any fitting reply. She lost no
time, however. in going into the ,6itch-
| en-, where her sister was at the wash
tub giving vigorous rubs to the weeks
washing.
Jane Prescott was twenty years the
senior of the two. and they had long
kept house together. in snug, thrifty
| way. Jane was the manager and tie
master spirit, and at sixtythree years
of age retained the vigor Of body and
mind she had possessed at thirty.
She had assumed the entire charge
| OF her sister after the death Of their
| parents. just thirty-one years ago this
summer; and Matilda seemed to her
I IL ~.
she used to harness up the old white
| mare, and take her to the little red
brick schoolhouse, two miles from their
home.
Sister" said Matilda, in a voice
broken by convulsive sobs, ''r m turned
out of the singing seats
''What?" snapped out Jane, in tone
that went singing through the room
| like rifle shot
Yes; that's what Squire Page came
| for just now. He says the folks want
| young voices in churches, and he's got
| a girl about twenty, who's coming in
month or So"
Two fierce, red spots appeared on
| Jane Prescott's thin cheeks on hearing
| this concise statement, and her pale,
gray eyes looked out with menacing
glare, as she took off her glasses and
stood staring at her sister.
Don't look like that, Jane, for good
| ness sake: it isn't worth it. OF course
feel badly and shall for some time;
but l suppose it's all right, after all.
You know am getting old, compare
lively speaking"
Getting old. Matilda Prescott!
You're young woman yet"
No, forty-three can't be called young.
Ny voice isn't as strong as it was before
the fever. fairly tremble when we have
tune with high G in it. can't hold
it steadily. You know my voice never
was cultivated, and they say that makes
all the difference in the ability to man
age it,
well, you can stand there and run
yourself down if you want to, but l say
it's wicked shame-the whole thing.
That girl won't stay long in the choir,
let me tell you, if she comes-11l fix it."
why, Jane, what do you nean?"
''Just let me alone now, and don't
you say word to anybody. I've got
to think it all over. l shall have some
thing to say about this thing"
During the afternoon Jane Prescott
sat alone in the small, prim parlor, sat
bolt upright in the highest chair. One
curtain was drawn up, half way, that
she might see anyone who passed
along the road. There were few who
went by, however; people were busy
with their haying. The weather was
hot and dry; little swarms of flies
danced up and down in the air; the
sides of the road were lively with grass
hoppers: the bees buzzed about the
marigolds.
James face looked wicked as she sat
musing, and she felt wicked. The
longer she unused the hotter burned
the fire in her heart. She was aston
ished at herself, at this rush of bitter
ness which was sweeping over her, for
she had a soft. warm side to her ma
ture; but now she felt as much of an
ger and hate toward the girl who was
to take her sisters place as ever filed
the adamantine organ of Mary OF
England when planning the fate of
her Protestant subjects; and her
thought progressed like virulent
acid, eating its rapid way through all
the tissues of sentiment 1t is proba-
bic that she had never heard of the
Greek proverb which teaches: ''ln the
morning of life, work; in the midday,
give counsel: in the evening, pray"
and il she had she would have felt that
she had not yet reached that helpless
evening. She must work now for an
object; and when. after two hours of
solitary communion, she came ont into
the kitchen where her sister was sit
ting by the window trying to crochet.
in spite of red, smarting eyelids. her
mouth was set hard and firm. She !
seldom referred to the contemplated |
change in the choir. to the surprise of |
everyone; for what had been dreaded |
above everything else by Squire Pages |
immediate supporters was the tongue |
OF Jane Prescott You might as we'll 1
try to race with a locomotive" said 1
one of the deacons. '-as to attempt 70 |
reason with her or explain anything"
Edith Wayne, as have said, had 40 /
conception of the feeling against her. /
She knew nothing Of tie choir's history |
and regarded the matter of her engage
ment in the light only of business
transaction Ii had been arranged that !
she should come to Pagetown each Sat
urday - remaining at the house Of /
Squire Page until the Monday follow
ing.
She was in splendid voice on this first /
Sunday of her ayY-SAa-arca in the et1cir