The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1894-04-07
Mrs. Basset SHOOK her head.

dressed woman among her fflends-
docs she have puffs on her sleeves
or her shoulders, and big ruffies, the
kind that stand out and give woman
such magnificent air? Oh! I've seen
ladies that looked positively sub
lime in their big silky sleeves, and,
when the dresses are light, covered
with lovely lace; and you see them
gliding around in room full of peo-
ple-oh! they look" and she paused.
with long convulsive sigh, "they look
like floating angels!"
There was a silence of profound alb
sorption for a moment when she re.
sumed:
Maybe she stuffs her sleeves with
cotton wadding. Does che? That
gives striking effect"
Mrs. Basset's fund of information was
not extensive, and her questioner was
in despair when she only maintained,
stolidly:
"Yes, she is, no doubt, considered to
be a smartly-dressed woman"
81 wonder, now, if she ever wore
Derby collar? Has she gloves and
shoes to match her dresses or to give
q harmonious contrast?"
Mrs. Basset had nothing further to
say, and, piling up the handkerchiefs,
went from the room, vouchsafng no
grain of comfort.
The day after they had seen the doc
tor drive away from the Whitcomb
home, Farmer Basset said:
81 can't stand this way of doing any
longer. If Whitcomb doesn't like it, 1
can walk back again across lots; but
I'm going over. 1t looks inhuman to
have an old neighbor back home again
and never 60 near him."
| Mrs. Whitcomb learned of his de-
cision, and, with loosely flowing skirt
caught up in one hand and shading her
eyes from the sun with the other, she
| tripped over the path that hal long
been lost in over-growing grasses,
through which the farmer had made
his way only few minutes before.
She crossed wide porch at the back of
the house, assembled fight of narrow
uncarpeted stairs, and advanced on tip
toe down the hall toward room from
which she heard sounds as of some
one moving. She placed her open
palm lightly against the door. which
was slightly ajar and stood listening.
Farmer Basset It's deep tones were say
ing:
Don't you know who I am? You
haven't forgotten that Jo Basset lives
| in this neighbor hood, have your"
Mrs. Whitcomb pushed the door ever
1 o,-<
swelled up within her.
"Oh, my poor dear husband, how
thin lie looks, with that shade over his
eyes! If it wasn't for that horrid
woman, I'd go back home where l be-
| long"
| The accusing tears were streaming
| down her face as she looked at the two
men in the dar keped room.
Farmer Basset had put his hand upon
| the sick mans chair, and the latter had
covered its brown breadth with both
his white ones; his eyes were bandaged
from the light
"You, old 10 Basset?' he said.
eagerly. ''Th,s is good of you. A
farmer learns never to lose minutes
sunshine, and yet you come into this
dark hole! You're splendid fellow,
Jo!''
I'm powerfully glad to see you. You
don't look bad, you know-just little
rest is all you need" and Basset pro-
ceeded to shake his friends hand
heartily. You've forgotten our quar-
rel, then?"
''Our quarrel?" said the other. won
deringly. "What quarrel, 10? You
don't mean any of those bubbles we
were always having? i don't seem to
remember" and he turned his unseeing
face upward inquirin gly.
''Oh, you've forgotten it! Now, tell
you I'm mighty glad of that might
have known it, seeing that you are
married yourself About my wife
don't you remem Der, old boy?"
"Your wife?" responded the other,
and then beaming smile broke forth
upon his face! CLARA? OF course.
remember now. She was a fine
girl, and it did hurt me, spring
chicken that l was, when you got in
ahead of me there Forgotten it!' and
his laugh rang merrily in spite of his
weakness well, l should say have.
You ought to see Mrs Whitcomb! ]
would have her here now, but the doc
tor insists on rest for me, and says I'm
in perpetual delirium when Mrs. Whit
comb is by It's hard medicine-worse
than any in his bottles Do you won
der didn't remember our old quarrel?
It's fun. though; I'm glad you reminded
me of it."
Farmer Basset rubbed his hands in
glee; nothing could have delighted him
more than seeing his friend in such
spirits.
Mrs. Whitcomb stood without the
door, the very tears stopped upon heI
face in the CONSERVATION of the mo
ment Mrs Basset, with her straw
hat shaped like bent scoop-shovel and
its detected trimming, her round
b. sque with iGs buttons down III.