Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1893-04-24

|
again3 It's as my old father says-she
was the luck of the house."
| Mrs. Sedgick burst into tears.
at wasn't my fault, Jothaml" she
said. ~ always liked the child, though
she wasn't no more like our folks than q
corn flower is Ike squash blossom.
But she and Ellen couldn't somehow
agree. Ellen always wanted Martin TO
marry Miss Brownlee, and she up one
d,Y and accused Dora of settin' her cap
for Martin, and Dora couldn't stand that
| and when they appealed to me, I'm
| afraid didn't take Dora's part quite so
strong as | might hev done"
81 kuowed wonan's tongue was at
the bottom of it ALL" said the squire,
with some bitterness. "Poor Dora!"
That night the whole Sedgck fam
lily were aroused by light blaze in the
| dooryard the old fashioned we'll sweep
burning up. Grandsir, in his flannel
dressing gown and knctted stick, his
leonine head well outlined in the scarlet
glow, looking more Druid.llke than
ever.
"You done it o purpose" said he,
feebly shaking the stick at the assembled
family, who were trembling in the door
way. "You know you did. First Dora,
and then the old well sweep. The only
things l keered for in this world
now they're both gone, an may as
well lie down and die"
II didn't mean any harm!" hysteri-
cally sobbcd poor Ellen. 81 was light
ing taper to seal letter-Marian
Brownlee always uses the new fashioned
colored wax to seal her letters-and it
burned up too quick, and l flung it out
of the window, but I never dreamed it
would fall among the dead leaves around
the old well curb and set it on tirel
didn't mean any harm!'
"Don't fret, father" said the squire.
"We'll build it up ag'in-me and Mar
tin-jnst exactly like it was before"
The old man shook his head.
''It won't be the same" moaned he
sit won't be the samel Nothin's the
same in this world"
And he took to his bed from that
dav.
Poor Ellen hung down her head like
dropping lily. In neither case had she
intended any actual harm, but in both
instances she felt acu ely responsible.
Martin was making preparations to go
out West. Grandsir seemed to have lost
all interest in tie surrounding world.
Her mother went about with swollen
eyes and pale face, and Squire Sed-
.,,,ly ,,,tl lNV, tl.h th.
looking as if he had lost his last friend.
One volet-scented April afternoon,
however, Martin came home from the
city, whither he had been to purchase
some absolute necessity for his travels,
with fiat parcel under his arm.
"Look, mother" he said. ''It's some
thing for grandsir. don't know but
what Pve been extravagant, bCt declare
to goodness l couldn't he.p it. TIE
minute set eyes on it, thought of the
dear old man lyin up stairs in his bed.
It's picture" he added, as Ellen came
hurrying to his side-'an oil painting
with fine gilt frame. Ex ,ctly like our
old well sweep that was burned down,
with the red barn in the distance, and
the sun settin' behind the woods, just as
I've seen it go down times without end.
You don't know how queer felt when
| saw it in the store window, and went
in and paid twenty dollars for it. I'd
do without them canpin' blankets aad
the fur robe, mother; but l wanted
grandsir TO have that picture"
They hung it up on the wall opposite
the head of his bead, aud when the old
man walked from a nap, just as the sun
set beans shone over the mute canvas, he
looked at it with smile.
''It's our old well, said he, not cvinc.
ing the least surprise. "Just like was
a-lookiu' out of the window at it. I've
got the well sweep back ag'in now, and
p'raps Dora'll come next. Who kuows2"
And for the first time in a week, he
got up aud dressed himself, and deigned
to give sort of conditional approval to
the repairs going on in the burned dis
trlct.
at looks too new now," said he, ad-
justing his "far-away" spectacles. ''But
p'raps in year or two it'll be more
weather beaten an nat'ral-like. 1 can
allays look at the picter, though, when 1
want to see the old well sweep"
Ellen pulled her brothers sleeve as he
stood intently regarding the bright little
oil painting on grandsir's wall.
"Martin," said she, ''nobody ever
could have painted that picture by guess.
1t is our old well sweep, and there's the
very butternut tree and the broken
shingles or the barn roof. And don't
you remember, Martin, how fond she
used to be of painting2"
He turned suddenly around with an ir-
radiated face.
"Why didn't think of it before2" he
cried.
Mr.. Solomon Feldman, sitting behind
his desk rail in the darkest corner of the
dark little art store, was startled from an
abstruse financial calculation by the ques-
tionng geam of pair of dark eyes close
beside him,
"Is it sold7' soft voice timidly asked
."nly '0.d Well Swept l see it is
gone from the window. Oh, is it posi-