The Monticellonian., 1895-10-11
come from little town in Kansas to

the dead woman, went on to say she could care for the child no longer, and If his relatives did not come for him he would be sent to the poorhouse. Joseph pondered the matter day and night. He then coolly proposed sending for the child and adopting it. His wife flatly refused. What-a child, a two year old baby, to make litter on her clean floors and upset her orderly plan of life?
 You must be crazy, Joseph" she said, severely. "If it was a girl, now, and big enough to be out from under foot, l might think of it. But there hain't no use talking about it.
 Joseph Busby rarely opposed his wife, even in so small matter as talk ing when she bade him be silent. How ever, this time he said:
 We air growen old Mirandy. The baby would be something to love us
 These words came back to Mrs. bus by as she bent over the wash tub. Did she and Joseph need something to love them? She thought of the rambling old house with it's many rooms, of the fertile acres surrounding it, and of the comfortable bank account. Then her mind wandered to the distant ceme- tery where d white marble cross marked her baby's grave.
 'I couldn't give Leah's place to an other" she whispered. And yet he might make a place for himself Oh, my baby, I miss her still.a
 Withdrawing her hands from the suds, Mrs. Busby crossed the sitting room and entered the parlor. No one knew, not even her husband, how many troublesome questions the mother settled before her child's pie ture
 She opened the blinds and looked long and earnestly at the laughing baby face.
 Do you want me to, dear?s she asked tearfully. Do you want me to take noisy, troublesome boy into this home? Is it an idol, Leah, my want ing everything so quiet and orderly?"
 Ten minutes later she was back at her washing. The parlor blinds were closed and all things were as they had been excepting Mrs. Busby's eyes;
 
 depths. At half-past nine the last clothes were on the line. Returning from hanging them out, Mrs Busby found neighbor, MT. Vance, at the door
 Eve been down to the station" he said, and the eight o'clock train brought baby for you, or Busby, rather"
 "A what" demanded Mrs. Busby, catching her breath.
 "A baby It was plain to see that Mir Vance was enjoying the situation. "A woman who was going east on a visit brought it from Kansas Said it belonged to some of Busby's folks She left it in care of the ticket agent and he sent it over by me. It's down to the road in my wagon, and trunk too. The little fellow has cried most ever since the woman left him.
 Mrs. Busby took down her green gingham sunbonnet and prepared to follow him out to the wagon without a word.
 Was you expecting it?n Mir. Vance asked, somewhat disappointed at her quietness.
 Not to day" she replied, briefly
 It was a plump, but tearstained lit- tie face that met her eager gaze. There were great blue eyes, a rosy mouth and closely-curling yellow hair, But the child was unmistakably dirty and began crying again in a piteous fashion.
 Mrs, Busby held up her arms. "Come to auntie, dear" she said coax ingly. You want some bread and milk. don't you, and to see the dear little chickens?"
 At the same leisurely gait of the morning Mir. Busby again traversed the path from the barn to the house Miranda's line of snowy clothes dry ing in the sun brought to his mind the conversation of the morning, but he expected no reference to it from his wife. A surprise awaited him. The table was laid for three, and at the guests place stood clumsy little high chair that for twenty years had stood empty in an upper room. And on the floor sat a happy faced child surrounded by clothes-pins, empty bottles, a disused candlestick and a like collection of impromptu play things.
 "Who-who is that, Mirandy?"
 Joey Hale Busby," was Miranda's prompt reply, and picking up the child she put it in her husbands arms. There, Joey dear, make friends with Uncle Joseph. He is the dearest little fellow. she went on, ''so cunning and not bit afraid.
 But I don't understand" and Joseph Busby's arms closed tenderly around tue little orphan.
 The story was soon told
 "0f course, we'll keep him, and do the best we can by him, Mrs Busby said by way of conclusion. Dinner is ready and the green peas and custard pie will taste good to little Joey. l guess you were right bout my idols, Joseph stopping to fasten towel around the child's neck in lieu of bib, but they are overthrown. Now I'll try and not make an idol of Joey"
 ''You air remarkable woman, Mir andy Mir. Busby said, wiping his eyes "I have always said you was remarkable woman, and Pm a leetle afraid l am maken an idol of you. - N. Y, Observer.
 \ Bicyeler's End.
 In the morning how swiftly he sped up the boulevard on his glittering wheel. At night they brought him home. with his life crushed out by the