Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1894-11-09

finishing touch to the pink waist she
was ironing and set the iron down
hard.
'1t's of no use to talk, mother. /
never can go anywhere, she said. "And
do wish you wouldn't call me Selin-
dy."
The unironed things went into the
clothes basket with sweep and a
toss, and the basket went into the
closet with thump, and Selinda ran
up stairs TO her own room and buried
her head in the pillow. 1t was only a
foolish little seventeen-year-o head,
although its owner taught the Bend
school and sang in the church choir,
and was an officer of the Village I'm
provement Society. Miss Kittredge
dropped the boys blouse sh, was
mending, and folded her little kpotty,
toll worn hands in her lap; her glasses
had grown suddenly SO misty that she
could not see.
"Poor little Selindy-da! It does
seem too bad" she murmured. "If
Enoch would only pay me, as he said
he would, for keepin' house for him
and nursin' him through that rheu-
matte fever, more'n year ago. I
can't bear to say anything-'mongst
relations. so-and Enoch is terrible
nigh. And if I do speak it'll only
make him cas-. slur upon Amasa, his
own brother that's dead and gone, be-
cause he hadn't more faculty and
didn't leave us better off. But then
Selindy does feel 80 bad now that the
Pritchnrd girls and Naomi jerks are
going to the Worlds Fair. And it
does seem kind of providential that
Enoch will be goin' by here home
from market this afternoon"
The little woman arose, slowly, but
with resolution, and took her mend
ing out to the porch. But the mend
ing was neglected, and she peered
anxiousiy through the futtering hop
vine, down the long, dusty road. She
actually trembled when tall, gaunt
figure, upon the seat of an open farm
wagon, came suddenly into view.
"Enoch. l want to speak to you jest
minute" she called, hurrying out to
the gate.
Enoch was thin-lipped, and dried
like leather. He fecked fly from
his horses back without looking up,
and with o distinctly discouraging air.
1T amt any use talkin' to me about
Rufe," he said, before the little wo-
man found her breath or her courage
to speak. "He's got to make his own
way, jest as my boys would, if had
any. I don't care anything about
machinery or 'lectricity, or any of the
fol-de-rols that he's got his head FULL
OF. / don't expect he'll ever amount
to us much as Selindy does"
"1t's Selindy that want to speak
to you about, said the widow, hastily.
"You know l don't like to say any
thing about it, Enoch, but you said
you'd give little something for takin'
care of you when you was sick, and
now--Selindy she wants SO bad to go
to the Worlds Fair. I expect you'll
think it's extravagant, but she worked
hard keepin' school, and Rufe he's
doin' real we'll in the mill, and seems
as if now was just the time if you did
think of givin' me anything"
"You want me to give it to Selindy,
do you?" The grim mouth relaxed q
very little. If Uncle Enoch had q
weakness it was for his niece Selinda.
whom all Carmel accounted "smart
II did think she had more sense than
to go galivantin' off to Chicago, q
squanderin' money, but mebbe I'll
give her little somethin' to help her
along. I'm goin' over to B. day
after tomorrow, and I'll stop on my
way home"
"a little somethin' to help her
along" did not sound like enough to
pay Selindas expenses to the Fair, but
there was one good thing about Uncle
Enoeh, he was apt to promise some
thing less than he meant to perform !,
and Selinda's mother remembered
hopefully how he had said, after che
had nursed him through those long
weeks of illness, 'I'll remember you
harnsomely, M'ria, harnsomely."
That was, indeed, after he had suf-
fered very severe twinges of rheuma-
tism, and Rufe had said it would stake
more than rheumatism to take the
kinks out of Uncle Enoch so they'd
stay OUT" nevertheless, Mrs. Kit