The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1894-02-16

II nice bag o dried apples for my
share, an If your mother goes"
Clara shrugged her shoulders.
81 dare say we con find something
for mother to carry" said she, "eyen
if it's no more than one of her deli
cious pumpkin pies or a loaf of gin
gcrbreod. [ shall take ten-dollar
gold piece My salary was paid last
! week, and I shall never forget how
good Parson Potter used to be when n
was a childp
Ten dollars" echoed the deacon.
TN money! Be my ears a-deceivin'
of me?'
eyes, ten dollnrs-and in money.
It's my own, isn't it, to spend or keep,
as please?"
cts a downright Aingin' away of
money!" gasped the deacon. "Ten
dollars Is the gal crazy! Why,
declare to goodness, it's enough to
make mans hair stand on end"
"Here We are" cried Clara, JOY
ously springing over the wheel. "And
the freight shining out into the road,
as if the old backlog had never left
off cracking since L was here last, and
Prince barking, and the big red lily in
bloom on the window -slll ! Oh, it does
seem so nice to be at home again !"
Mrs. Cummings hurried, smiling,
to the door, but the deacon looked
sour enough as he drove around to the
barn.
81 hadn't thought o going!" fall
tered Mrs. Cummings.
"But you must go, mother!" said
Clara, with the bow of ribbon twisted
around her finger.
81 hain't nothin' to take"
"There's that loaf of plumcake that
you baked for Sundays tea. Nothing
in the world could be nicer"
Give got piece o blue gingham-
three yards-that | hain't made up
into aprons yet. Would that do?"
wistfully questioned the poor woman.
cit would be just lovely" pro-
tested Clara.
And then she confded to her mother
the secret of the tcn-dollar gold piece.
"Tou see, said she, 81 feel some
how as if were paying a debt to
these dear old people, who have
worked so hard all these years fer so
pitiful salary. And I've put the
money in the little, fat shopping-b bag
Just like the one | gave you, dear
and l shall slip it into Mrs Potter's
hand. Won't she be surprised when
she comes to open it,"
Clara Cummings, however, had an
auditor to their sweet flial condolences
Of whom she little knew.
The deacon, hanging up his old
harness, back of the kitchen door, had
cts sinful" said the deacon to
himself absolutely a-temptin' e
Providence! Ten-dollar gold pieces |!
Ginghams! Loaves O. cake, not to say
nothin' of the dried apples 1 was cal
culatin' to fetch I-don't-see-"
: Suddenly the deacon's dull eyes
= frightened. He came to a dead stand
still on the stairs. The deacon had
an idea. I
"Tho very thingn' he muttered to
) himself,
Going softly to his wife's bureau, he
/ distracted the little leather reticule
which Clara had given her on her fifty.
second birthday, a brief while ago, and
, quietly substituted it for Clara's, lying
on the pillow of her bed, first, how
ever, placing in its outside pocket a
/ squared yielded one-dollar bill.
t "That'll be deal more suitable, y
thought he. "The bags is Just alike
| and Clara won't know the difference.
, And I'll keep this ere gold-pice, to.
| wards, the shinglin' of the barn ruff,
Goodness knows, [ need money q great
, deal more than Parson Potter does
5 and Clara 'ain't no business to be 81
wasteful and extravaganza
| And he went down stairs, chucklin2
softly to himself.
5 CANT supper ready?" said he.
e "Whnt cold corned beef and parsnips
| And biscuit! There wan't.no need O
l anything but bread and cheese, seein
| we're goin' to hev slap-up supper tc
e the parsonage. But women hain't ne
% judgment. Here, Clara, put this mea
S on the shelf for breakfast tomorrow
r mornin. An set them preserves back
in the closet. Humph we'd all fetcl
e up in the poorhouse if We went aheaC
r this fashion"
Mrs, Cummings would have enjoyed
i. her evening at the parsonage, if ne
n husband had not glared so severely a
her new bonnet.
- "Gloves, eh?" said he, as she climbe,
b. out of the wagon. Squire Silleck'
! wife don't wear no gloves. I'll go bal
Q them cost fifty cents Humph!"
!. "But they're mended, father-an
= I've had 'em II year !"