The Monticellonian., 1895-10-11
MRS. BUSBY'S IDOLS.
BY HOPE DARING.

house. The morning sun was yelled by feecy mist, while low in the southwest a bank of dark gray clouds was visible.
 After his prolonged scrutiny, MT. Busby pondered the matter. It was hot 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 it might ram"
 That is what you always say if there's cloud in the sky Mrs. Busby said tartly 'I'n 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 mp a good fire, and, in obedience to a gesture from his wife, took his place at the table,
 Mir. Busby always thought before he spoke. This time, after brief but earnest blessing, he devoted himself to ham, eggs and potatoes for five min utes before saying i'll his usual drawi- ing voice:
 That was powerful sermon of the elder yisterday, Mirandy l always thought that text about Ephraim been tined to his idols might apply to some ,.f h. 1nlc If some sort or other
 Mrs. Busby stirred her golden brown coffee reflectively. Perhaps so. l hope the people who needs it took Mir RanteRss fine application. As for me l once had an idol, but God took it."
 There was a pause. The thoughts of both husband and wife travelled to the parlor where hung the picture of q child, wee maiden with laughing blue eyes and dimpled arms. It was the picture of little Leah, their only child, whose death twenty years before had left the old farm home desolate.
 Mir. Busbys heart was too deeply stirred by memories of his child to speak. But when a dash of rain came aga inst the window pane his wife ex- claimed grossly:
 There, it's raining. And If I don't wash Monday nothing goes right all the week.
 "Tain't an idol, is it, 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 doen your work exactly as you want to. It pears to me it might be an idol"
 What tn ideal Just look there, Joseph. See that dirty spot on the tableeloth where you've rubbed your old coat sleeve. This tablecloth was clean yesterday morning and now it must go in the wash, making three this week. I do wish you would be more careful"
 Why, now, Mirandy, do try to be careful. I wish you would use colored tableelotAs. thought you bought some turkey red ones"
 Yes, did buy them" and look of disgust crossed the face opposite Mir. Busby. But I want it understood am not going to use 'em. l will work my fingers to the bone before I'll set my table with anything but a white cloth, " and she stroked the glossy linen approvingly.
 II know, MirandY, but maybe that's another idol You see, yon think sight of such things"
 Now. Joseph Busby, if you are go- 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.
 Maybe so," and the eyes of the simple-hearted man softened as he looked through the east window at the sun-Sissed young foliage from which the ram drops were yet falling Maybe so, Mrandy. 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 l have. But this always thinl5en your way is best
 "See here, Joseph Busby,s there was an uedertone of almost ferceness in her voice, ''I think such twisting of the Scriptures is sinful. If have idols, can tend to 'em, that's all, and Mrs. Bushy strode into her bedroom and shut the door violently.
 When she returned to the kitchen she was in possession of the field. Joseph had gone to his work
 High time" she sniffed; 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 pink, blue and white cups and peered iu at the flushed face of the worker. But Mrs. Busby was too busy, too dis turbed by her husbands words to no- tice their beauty.
 T don't see what possessed Joseph to say that" she said, as she began rubbing her clothes. II gave up the only idol ever had twenty years ago. l."
 She stopped abruptly. "Of course, it's that letter" she went on, after a brief pause. "Bnt he is wrong. It ism t idols that keep me from doing my
 Again she stopped She had almos, said duty. A week before , letter had