The Opelousas courier., 1894-06-16

"And didn't she look sweet?" cried
Anne. "But people shouldn't judge
by appearances! Pm going to tel
you, Mrs. Bassett tho I should hats tt
have it get around. A cousin o
mothers in the city sent us "a bun
die of old clothes. And Helen is Just
the most ingenious, most economics
girl you ever saw! Those things
weren't suitable for us at all, and ]
thought they'd be of no use whatever
but Helen turned them and dyed them,
and made the old worn out party silks
irto the prettiest petticoats you ever
saw-and one for each of ust Their
the poor child needed a new dress,
badly she hadn't a thing fit to wea,
to church, and we couldn't afford tc
buy anything; SO she went t. work
and somehow made that pretty gray
and olive gown out of just
nothing! And her bonnet, too-you
ought to have seen it when it came
And" Historically, 'sall that never
cost us a single penny"
"You don't mean to say!" ejacu-
lated Mrs. Bassett, in amazement.
"But-that pink silk parasol?" she
queried. "Mandy Ward priced one
in the city, an they asked-sixteen
dollars"
"5he made that, too, cried Anne.
ooh, you don't half kIbw how clever
Helen is! You won't let this go any
further, thought" she added, anxious
ly. 81 wouldn't like every one to
know, because-well, because it was
the first time any n had ever sent
old things to us-and poor little
Mother-cried."
81 won't tell a Twin soul but Chan,
Mrs. Bassett said, earnestly. "But I
must tell him. He'll be home to-
night, you know, over Sunday. An
an I'm comm round to see your
ma, right soon"
Anne went her way with a lighter
heart and she had not far before
Chauncey Bassett himself came into
view. To her surprise he stopped.
"1t's ever SO long since I've seen
you," he began awkwardly.
"Why haven't you been around?"
she asked in her pleasant way, noting
curiously his wane and troubled face.
'Ill tell you why" he said, sud-
denly. sIt's because I can't think of
any one or anything but-Helen! And
/ never realized until-until one Sun
day morning in the spring (Anne
sighed chow far above the farmers
son-the poor book keepe,-she was.
Then / saw that the best I could ever
hope to give her would not be worthy
of her-not even as much as she is
having now (Anne smiled; "and J.
I knew that it would be better for me
toto forget heretofore she ever
dreamed 1 had begun to care I
Thought I could turn my thoughts
away; but / can't; and though it is
madness to think she could we care
for ne, yet I must see her and tell
her and, unless you tell me not to, I
am coming this very night.
Come" said Anne, with q reassur-
ing smile.
Supper was over and the girls were
putting the things away. As Margaret
disappeared in the china closet with a
pile of plates, Anne said cheerily:
.tOh, I met Chauncey Bassett as I was
coming home, and, do you know, he
said he was coming around--to-night. "
"Anne! you--you didn't say-any-
thingg"
"You dear little goosei Not a
word that the town crier couldn't pro-
claim with propriety. But I thought
he was looking thin and worried, poor
fellow. There, I'll wipe the teacups,
for you had better go light the lamp
in the parlor, and put on your pretty
gray gown, directly"
eff he had waited until he had seen
his mother, I'd have hated him-al-
most" thought Anne. an hour later,
when, above the murmur of voices in
the little parlor she heard Helen's
laugh ring gayly, as of old.
And the next day, being Sunday,
the village gossips had something new
to talk of; for Mrs. Bassett actually
waited and kissed Helen on the church
porch. And Chauncey walked home
with her again, rs he used to do; but
though his face was radiant, no one
could get sight of her smiles and bushes
then, for carefully aud almost rever-
entially Chauncey wal shielding her
lovely face with the pink silk parasol.
Independent.