Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-10-24
MRS. BUSBY'S IDOLS.
BY HOPE DARING.


Mr.. Joseph Busby eyed the sky as he
leisurely walked from the barn to the
house. The morning sun was veiled
by fleecy mist, while low in the
southwest bank of dark gray clouds
was visible.
After his prolonged scrutiny, Mr..
Busby pondered the matter 1t was
not until he had washed his hands and
face on the back kitchen porch and en-
tered the room where his wife was
taking up the breakfast, that he said:
'"Pears like 1t might ram"
THAT is what you always say If
there's cloud in the sky" Mrs. Busby
said tartly. 'Tll thank you to lift
that boiler on, just the same"
''Goen to wash? It's most certain to
rain"
"Let it rain. haven't any patience
with such weather. and Mrs, Busby
rushed down cellar after a pitcher of
cream.
Her husband never hurried. He put
the boiler carefully on the stove, built
up good fire, and, in obedience to a
gesture from his wife, took his place
at the table.
Mr.. Busby always thought before he
spoke. This time, after a brief but
earnest blessing, he devoted himself to
ham, eggs and potatoes for five min
utes before saying in his usual drawl-
ing voice:
"That was powerful sermon of the
elder Yesterday, Mirandy. / always
thought that text about Ephraim been
jined to his idols might apply to SOM
of us. Most everybody has idols OF
some sort or other"
Mrs. Busby stirred her golden brown
coffee refectively. perhaps so. /
hope the people who needs it took Mr..
Ranton's fine application. As for me
once had an idol, but God took it."
There was pause. The thoughts Of
both husband and wife travelled to the
parlor where hung the picture of a
child, wee maiden with laughing blue
eyes and dimpled arms. 1t was the
picture of little Leah, their only child.
whose death twenty years before had
left the old farm home desolate.
Mr.. Busby's heart was too deeply
stirred by memories of his child to
speak. But when a dash of rain came
against the window pane his wife ex
claimed Grossly:
IL "There, it's raining. And If don't
wash Monday nothing goes right all
the week"
"Tain't an idol, isit, Mirandy?" The
good man OF the house pushed back
from the table. "Now, it don't seem
Jest right to be SO sot as you air on
dozen your work exactly as you want
to. 1t pears to pe it might be an
idol"
what an idea! just look there,
Joseph See that dirty spot on the
tablecloth where you've rubbed your
old coat sleeve. This tablecloth was
clean yesterday morning and now il
must go in the wash, making three
this week. | do wish you would be
more careful"
''Why, now, Mirandy, do try to be
careful. wish you would use colored
tablecloths. l thought you bought
some turkey red ones"
"Yes, did buy them," and look of
disgust crossed the face opposite MIR.
Busby But want it understood !
am not going to use 'em. I will work
my fingers to the bone before I'll set
my table with anything but white
CLOTH" and she stroked the glossy linen
approvingly.
II know, Mirandy, but maybe that's
another idol. You see, you think
sight of such things"
Now, Joseph Busby, II you are 60
ing to talk such nonsense as that you
better get to work. Just see there.
The sun is shining. So you see it was
right for me to wash after all. d"
'Maybe So" and the eyes of the
ple-hearted man softened as he
looked through the east window at the
sun-kissed young foliage from which the
rain drops were yet falling. maybe so,
Mirandy. You air an uncommon
woman and have been good wife to
me for twenty-seven years. You hain't
got many idols, Mirandy not half as
many as have. But this always
thinker your way is best"
"See here, Joseph Busby," there was
an undertone of almost fierceness in
her voice. II think such twisting of
the Scriptures'is sinful. If have idols,
/ can tend to 'em, that's all, /" and Mrs.
Busby strobe into her bedroom and
shut the door violently.
When she returned to the kitchen
she was u possession Of the field.
Joseph had gone to his work.
High time" she shifted; 'idols. In
deed
She put her clothes to soak, and car.
rying her dishes into the pantry began
washing them. Her thoughts were not
pleasant ones; the frown on her face
told that. The window before which she
stood was covered with thick growth
of morning glory vines. A few of the
daintily twisted buds, unheeding the
threatening of storm, had opened their