Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1893-02-09

| :.>i:::::&::: |" ~ Barry's gen.
| " " eral store, and,
| III reckoning the
proprietor beyond what he believed
hearing distance of the young girl who
| fluttered about among the somewhat
putable-looking display of fancy
goods, inquired if Barry had any val
| entines.
The merchant spread out on the
I,counter a number of those inartistic
| entines. But Mr.. Shredder showed
them back contemptuously.
mot them things!' he said. ''Sump-
in'," he Lowered his voice and glanced
sheepishly at the futterer near the
fancy goods, ''sumpin' suitable for a
GIRL
Because Mr.. Shredder was a bachelor
and forty-three years old. Barry felt
warranted in rallying him little on
this evidence of sentimentality.
''Who are you trying to shine up to,
Dave-one of old man Harper's girls?
Well"
Its for Prim," interrupted Dave,
gruffiy.
''Prim?" said Barry, soberly. 'I'm
sorry, Dave, but I haven't any but
these left" ~
There was nowhere else to seek
them, Barry's being the only store at
the crossroads.
Dave turned away regretfully.
shell be mighty disappoin ted. Lit
tie Prim-"
"Who is little Prim?''
The girl looking over the fancy
goods had come up. There seemed no
keeping Nell Estabrooke out of any
thing, as Barry had found when she
had invaded his store before she had
been at the crossroads an hour. What
little her sharp ears had overheard of
the conversation between the two men
vaded their privacy as irresistibly as
she did everything else.
Before he hardly knew it she had
drawn Dave Shredder into conversation.
Little Primrose" he said. ''She's
my-wal, my sort nv adopted daughter
mine an Simps Hicks"
There was no satisfying winsome Nell
without explaining farther, and pres
emily Dave had told her a great deal of
little Primrose's story.
One afternoon, about three years be-
fore, Messrs. David Shredder and Simp-
son Hicks, the proprietors of adjoining
claims away out on the prairie. almost
dozen miles from anywhere, it
seemed, were surprised out of the
serenity that had hung over their bach
elor establishment "a comfortable,
weather beaten house built across the
dividing line, half ON one claim and
half on the other-ever since its foun-
dalton.
They were grinding a corn knife in
the shade of the house when the pipe
of childish voice caused the complain
ing screak of the old grindstone TO stop
suddenly. A little figure, almost
baby, with thin, anxious face and
great, troubled eyes, stood before them.
please, misters," she piped. my
mamma is jest awful sick, and I'm lost
and don't know what to do The wag-
on is"
Mr.. Hicks released the handle of the
Rrindstone and Mr. Shredder stuck the
knife in the ground-a very injudicious
way to treat treshly-sharpened corn
knife, and both interrupted her with a
great:
.''Whur?'
They followed her to the old wagon
that stood just outside of the pole
fence. Aglance into it sufficed to show
them that it was very sick woman
who lay moaning and babbling feebly
on the rude bed of quilts in the vehicle.
With rough kindness, they did all
they could for her, but their care came
too late, and before sunset the poor
woman had breathed her last without
telling anything of the sad story that
for her had ended ut the weather.
beaten house of the partners. No need
to tell how they buried her decently,
laying the poor, worn body to rest on
the sunny slope little way from the
house. eomforted the orphan as best
they could. and then sat down gravely
to think what they should do with her.
There seemed but one thing to do;
and, in fact, they never thought Of any
thing else. and little Primrose was
duly installed Is q member of the prai-
RE household.
They did all in their power to learn
something of her antecedents-tO ac-
quaint any relatives she might have
of her whereabouts-but without sue
cess.
The child could aid them but little.
She remembered long. weary jour