The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1894-11-14


finishing touch to the pink waist she
was ironing and set the iron down
hard.
'It's of no use to talk, mother. I
never can go anwhere, she said. "And
/ do wish you wouldn't call me Selin-
dy."
The unironed things went into the
clothes basket with q sweep and q
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 q
foolish little seventeen-year- old 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 sho was
mending, and folded her little knotty,
toll worn hands in her lap; her glasses
had grown suddenly so misty that she
could not see.
"Poor little Selindy-dai 1t 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. l
can't bear to say anything-'mongst
relations, so-and Enoch is terrible
nigh. And if 1 do speak it'll only
make him cast 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 so bad now that the
Pritchard 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 huttering hop
vine, down the long, dusty road. She
actually trembled when a tall, gaunt
figure, upon the seat of an open farm
wagon, came suddenly into view.
"Enoch, want to speak to you jest
n minute" she called, hurrying out to
the gate.
Enoch was thin-lipped, and dried
like leather. He flecked fly from
his horses back without looking up,
and with distinctly discouraging air,
''It 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 l had
any. 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 as much as Selindy does"
'1t's Selindy that 1 want to speal
to you about, said the widow, hastily
"You know l don't like to say any
thing about it, Enoch, but you sale
you'd give little something for takin
care of you when you was sick, auC
now--Selindy she wants SO bad to g,
to the Worlds Fair. 1 expect you'll
think it's extravagant, but she worked
hard keepin' school, and Rufe he
doin' real we'll in the mill, and seem
as if now was just the time if you di,
think of givin' me anything"
''You want me to give it to Selindy
do your" The grim mouth relaxed Z
very little. If Uncle Enoch had
weakness il was for his niece Selinda
whom all Carmel accounted "smart.
81 did think she had more sense thai
to go galivantin' off to Chicago,
squanderin' money, but mebbe III
give her little somethin' to help he
along. I'm goin' over to B da
after tomorrow, ane I'll stop on m
way home.
"a little somethin' to help he
along" did not sound like enough t
pay Selinda's expenses to the Fair, bu
there was one good thing about Uncl
Enoeh, he was apt to promise some
thing less than he meant to perform
and Selinda's mother remembers
hopefully how he had said, after sh
had nursed him through those Ion
weeks of illness, "I'll remember yo
haTnsomely, Mira, handsomely"
That was, indeed, after he had sui
fered very severe twinges of rheuml
tism, and Rufe had said it would "tak
more than rheumatism to take th
kinks out of Uncle Enoch so they
stay out; nevertheless, Mrs. XII
tredge's worn face was aglow as sh