Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1895-10-24

in at the flushed face of the worker.
But Mrs. Busby was too busy, too dis
turbed Wy her husbands words to no.
tice their beauty,
81 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.
/"
She stopped abruptly "Of course,
it's that letter." she went on, after a
brief pause. "But he is wrong. 1t isn't
idols that keep me from doing my"
Again she stopped. She had almost
said duty. A week before letter had
come from little town in Kansas to
Mr.. Busby. The letter contained news
of the death of Mrs. Emma Hale, q dis
tant cousin of Joseph. Mrs Hale was
widow and left one child, boy. two
years old. The writer, ncighbor of
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
fatty refused. What-a child, 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 girl, now,
and big enough to be out from under
foot, / might think of it. But there
hain't no use talking about it."
.IhSanh Tnshty rar !, T.,
wife, even in so small matter as talk
ing when she bade him be silent. How
ever, this time he said
1--WE air growen old, Mirandy. The
baby would be something to love u.s."
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 its many rooms, of the
fertile acres surrounding it, and of the
comfortable bank account. Then her
mind wandered to the distant ceme-
terry where white marble cross
marked her baby's grave.
II couldn't give Leah's place to an
other" she whispered "And vet he
might make place for himself Oh,
my DdDy, L HISS neT
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 pic
ture.
She opened the blinds and looked
long and earnestly at the laughing
baby face.
"Do you want me to, dear?" 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;
there was a new. light in their gray
depths. AT half-past nine the last
clothes were on the line. Returning
from hanging them out, Mrs. Busby
found a neighbor, Mr. Vance, at the
door.
1--WE been down to the station" he
said, land the eight o'clock train
brought baby for you, or Busby,
rather"
"A what" demanded Mrs Busby,
catching her breath.
"a baby" 1t was plain to see that
Mr.. Vance was enjoying the situation.
"a woman who was going east on
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
u word.
"Was you expecting itP" MIR. Vance
asked, somewhat disappointed at her
quietness.
Not to-day" she replied, briefly.
1t was plump, but tear-stained lit
tie face that met her eager gaze.
There were great blue eyes, rosy
mouth and closely-curling yellow hair.
But the child was Enthusiastically 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 leisursly gait of the
morning Mr.. Busby again traversed
the path from the barn to the house.
Mirandas 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 a 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, disused candlestick and
like collection of impromptu play
things