The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1896-09-04

oihAu-oNth hlh war; a fenAou
muiierod Sary Ann, a. aho piled the
dinner dishes into tho pan Of steam.
ing water.
pretty housokeoper you'n makol"
grumbled Aunt Marthy. "sidea he's
a nigh onto twelve years old Time
he's a-gcttin' hardened 20 u ho ever
intends 10 mount to anything. Now
when Jerry wus his ago, he could do
most al kinds o. farm work--plough-
in an holm an diggin' an he didn't
50 10 poakiu' mp an gottin' wally-oyod
over il nuther. There hain't no sense
int 1 say. I'm plum ont o. patience
With 70 far pamperin' Of i'm up so ."
Sary Ann did not answer, only bent
her head lower over tho dishpan and
worked on IN si.saee and then when
the last dish was washed and turned
over in is customary place on the
clean-papered shelves, she slipped her
sun-bonnet quietly down from its peg
behind the kitchen door, and sped
away over the zelda
81 reckon kin stan It better'n
him, she unused, as she picked up the
heavy basket and began again her
wearisomo journey, mp and down the
long field.
The sun was Just creeping down
amongst the leaiy tops of the tall
naples in the woodland stretch when
she reached tho last row. She stopped
and looked about her. The dragging
was almost finished. She could hear
the red oxen as they clauked their
heavy yokes, and Uncle Jerry's coarse
voice as he guided the clumsy fellows
over the brown field.
She turned her face toward home.
A queer little figure sat bumped up on
the old rail fence and Sary Ann knew
that Andy was waiting for her. She
| quickened her pace and soon came up
to where he was sitting.
81 come to meet We, Sary Ann. Just
look a therel" lie was standing up
right on the top rail, and pointing
toward a dark object stationed in the
centre Of the far corn field.
ITS scarecrow. Don't it look
scary? 'Taint nothin' though but my
ole pants and coat stuffed with straw,
and my ole hat on top of it." be ex-
claimed.
"Guess it'll make 'em git, though,
don't you ?" he questioned eagerly.
~ made it oil myself. Come over'n
see it" And he Hammered down
from the fence and started off in the
direction of the scarecrow
eth tickle i'm most to death tc
hev me so, unused Sary Ann, as she
followed slowly along behind him,
needless Of her tired feet and aching
head
''He want so near dead but what he
could CAD round all the afternoon
togglin' mp that there skeercrow,
said Aunt Marthy, when they came
in to supper. you're having all YOU
pains fur nothin', Sary Ann. He
jest as able's you be; I've watched
i'm an know. No youngun coult
prance round as clipper as i'm, an b,
very ailin'. There's no sense O. hi
spleenin' gin work in this way; h
nights well knuckle into't first q
last There won't be much chance t,
spell i'm tomorrer, reckon, fur In
goin' to town, an you've got all tn
scrubbin' to git did, long 18th the res
O. the Saturdays cleanin'. He'll d
is own drappin' fur once, an goo,
'nough fur i'm"
It was with heavy heart that Snr
Ann stood on the step in the earl
morning light, and watched the famil
lar little figure trudgiug off toward
the potato field.
There was no hope Of spelling hin
that day she knew, with all the week
scrubbing to be done, aud she sighe
YEARLY as she turned again to til
homely duties that awaited her.
The forenoon dragged ON yer
slowly; but in spite of the work, Sar
Ann went many times to the httl
> dormer window in the attic, for som
glimpse of the blue checkered shirt j
the far-off potato field. She watche
1,~.r,.,, l,.,o,,.