The Monitor-register., 1896-10-09
R BUsBY's IDOLS.

mn6s DO0o ~ IVAN
Mr.. Joseph Busby eyed the sky as he
leisurely walked from the barn to the
house. The morning sun was yelled by q
feecy mist, while low in the southwest .
bank of dark clouds was visible.
After his prolonged scrutiny Mr.. Buzby
pondered the matter. 1t was not until
he had washed his hands and face on the
back kitchen porch aud entered the room
where his wife was taking up the break
fast, that he said, "'Pears like it might
rain."
"That is what you always say If there's
a cloud in the sky" Mrs. Buzby said,
tartly. "I'n thank you to lift that boiler
on just the same"
"Going to wash? It's most certain to
rain."
"Let it rain. | haven't much patience
with such weather." And Mrs. Busby
rushed down the cellar after a pitcher of
cream.
Her husband never hurried. He put
the boiler carefully on the stove, built up
a 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 earn
est blessing, he devoted himself to ham,
eggs and potatoes for five minutes before
saying, in his usual drawing voice:
"That was a powerful sermon yester-
day, Mirandy. I've been thinkin' that
text about that air mani forget his
name-been jined to his idols might apply
to some of US. Most everybody has idols
of some sort or other"
Mrs. Buzby stirred her golden brown
coffee refeotively. perhaps so. I hope
the people who needs it took some of your
fine application. As for me, 1 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 a child,
a wee maiden, with laughing blue eyes
and dimpled arms. 1t was the picture of
little Laura, their only child, whose death
twenty years before had left the old farm
house desolate.
Mr.. Busby's heart was too deeply stir
red by memories of his child to speak.
But when a dash of rain came against
the window pane his wife exclaiming
Grossly:
''There, it's raining. And if 1 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 as sot as you are on DOM your work
exactly as you van to-. 1t pears to me
it might be an idol"
What an idea! just look there, JOS
eph. See that dirty spot on the table
cloth where you've rubbed your old coat
sleeve. This tablecloth was clean yester-
day morning, and now it must go in the
wash, making three this week. do wish
you would be more careful"
"Why, now, Mirandy. l do try to be
careful. l wish you would use colored
tablecloths. l thought you bong hit some
turkey-red ones."
"Yes, did buy Them" and a look of
disgust crossed the face opposite Mr..
Busby. "But | want it understood that l
am no going to use 'em. I'll work nv
fingers to the bone before I'll set my table
with anything but a white CLOTH" and
she stroked the glossy linen approvingly.
Il know, Mirandy. but may be that's
another idol. You see you think a sight
of such things"
Now, Joseph Buzby, if you are going
to talk such nonsense as that. you better
get to work. Just see here, 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 SUM-
kissed foliage, from which the raindrops
were still falling. Maybe SO, Mirandy.
You air an uncommon woman, and have
been a good wife to me for twenty-seven
years. You hain't got many idols, Mir
andy, not half as many as l have. But
this is always thinkin' your way is best"
"See here, Joseph Busby," there was
an undertone of almost fierceness in her
voice. 81 think such twisting of the
Word of God is sinful. If [ have idols I
can tend to them, that's ALL" aud Mrs.
Bozby strobe into her bedroom aud 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 shifted. "Idols in.
deed!"
She put her clothes to soak, and carry-
ing 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 a thick growth of
morning-glory vines. A few of the
daintily, twisted buds, unheedinp the
threstenings of storm, had opened their
pink, blue and white cups, and peered in
at the flushed face of the worker, But
Mrs. Busby was too busy, too disturbed
by her husbands words. to notice their
beauty.
Il don't see what possessed Joseph to
say that" she said, as she began rubbing
her clothes. "1gave up the only idol |
ever had twenty years ago. /"