The Mena weekly star., 1896-12-09

Mir. Brush regarded her. You aren't thinking of sending him back, ma, are you?" he said.
 What are we going to do?" said Mrs. Brush, desperately. If it was a matter of duty-if we could do him any good by keeping him-but don't feel as if we could, declare don't, pa. We can't in- fuence him. We can't get at him. I declare, l feel as thougSi sooner than we'd make him good he'd be likely to make HIS bad as he is.''
 Mrs. Brush made solemn pause, and then went on: We took him thinking he'd be pleasure and comfort to us; and he's not been. I've thought it over. l can't make it seem best to keep him. And l should think you'd see it in the same light, pa."
 She was faithful inherent to her duty. She had upright principles and motherly heart. But she had likewise the keen judgment of a practical mind. and capacity for decisive action where action was needed. Her husband. less acute, more given to temporizing, de- ! ferred to her in matters in his own province-matters of crops and cattle and never regretted it.
 He lowered his chin into his hands in the speechlessness of his helpless con- viction, and cast sombcr eyes on the pleasant back-door view. The grass was taking on it's first yellow tinge: their motley leaves lay in broad circles around the trees; the far blue hills were lost against the blue sky. Ed'ard, munching on the sunny side of the smoke-house, seemed to Mir. Brush's troubled gaze to be the one blot on the fair and peaceful landscape. Ed'ard, when he had finished his bread and butter, settled back against the sun-warmed bricks in stolid content ment. with his hands deep in the pocls- cts of his trousers.
 Mrs. Brush had made these trousers: fsd'ard had come to her in disreputable ragged garments. She had never made any boys clothes, and she had patterned Ed'ard's after the fashions of 30 years ago.
 The coat had wide, round collar. and the loose trousers were graduated to a tight ending at the ankle. Between the quaint meekness of the attire and Ed'ard himself there was a contrast ludicrous and startling. Ed'ard was undersized and weazened. He had a stubby nose and wide mouth, and eyes in which there dwelt an un- canny shrewdness. He had appeared at the Brushes with hair close-shaven. like an escaped convict's. Mrs Brush de- clared. She was disappointed because she could not roll it in high curl on top of his head, as she had seen it done in the sos.
 Ed'ard sat staring at the brightness of the day. His state of mind was such that, possessing it, another boy would have run and yelled and whistled Ed ard looked stolid. He seldom smiled He had never fairly learned how. His lips had ever sort of grim sobriety.
 What were his sensations? They teemed within him; they uplifted his heart in joyfulness, and caused him lit- orally to blink his eyes with the stress of so great repression.
 He looked widely around. at the green sweep of the back yard; at the kitchen windows, full of flowers in broken dishes; at the red pump. and the clothesline, and the great black soap kettle slung over the ashes of yester- days fire. It was hard for him to be- lieve that he lived here, and that he was going to go on living here. Itwas too stu pendous and glad and proud thing for his comprehension.
 But some things he realized very keenly: that he was clean, that he had all he wanted to eat, and that what he ate was good-how goodl And he slept every night in room with no dirt in it anywhere, and with two win dows through which the fresh air blew, and with white, clean, cool sheets in the bed
 Nobody had spoken to him harshly, nor whipped nor cuffed him once since he had been here; and the two middle aged faces, which had been wholly strange to him but a little time ago, seemed to him the most beautiful he had ever seen. because they were the kindest.
 They called him Ed'ard. Nobody had ever called him anything but Ted before.
 He saw Lawrence Henderson. who lived next door, looking at him with suspicious speculation over the top of the fence. He and Lawrence had not made much progress toward an ac- quaintance. Lawrence regarded him as curiosity of doubtful and alarm