Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1898-09-17

- t@& a& SS>
for support Wait a minute then-to please
me, Miss Winniel'' she begged, as Winnie
shook her head and pushed away the de-
tanning arms.
Br~eathlessly the kind hearted rotund
creature hurried down to the larder, pant
ingly she came mp again, rushed about for
a minute to find o wrapping-paper. and
overlook Winnie as she went sadly and
slowly across the grounds.
"You-you-shall have-some o. my
cheese-cakes, Miss Winnie, dearl / made
'em most-a purpose for-youl Lor', I'm
out o'--breath-cleanl There, my lovey,
don't fret. She'll-be a-grand la-lady
yet"
The fragrant-smelling, flaky little parcel
of dainties could not carry much consola-
ton with it, though her old nurses tender
kindness touched Winnie's sore heart. She
wished the children were there, and opened
the paper to see how best she could divide
her present.
-Four: cut them in halves, and they'll
all have a bit and q piece over-Tommy
shall have it, rs he is ILL.," and then, In
the midst Of the generous little sisterly
calculation, a message of consolation came
to poor Winnie herself.
The wrapping pape was none other
than the letter which Captain Tredennick
had sent with his present, which Madam
had flung aside in her displeasure, and
Mrs. Grose had picked up in her haste.
'And also send a sealskin jacket, which
/ hope, dear aunt, you will give from me
to your little friend, Miss Winnie Caer.
lyon. | told her that | should send her n
keepsake when | went away; and ! think
this is the best and most suitable one l
could give her. | hope she will not be of.
Tended at my doing SO. Please say some.
thing nice and gracious, like yourself,
when giving it, rs have only offered it
In a very rough sallor-fashion; and say |
hope she will wear it as n sailors keep
sake. in kindly remembrance of the giver."
Cautiously, kindly, gentle, cordially,
he had profTercd his gift, and she had
scorned it, flung it aside, hated it, as an
insult and a wrong!
But Madam had given no gracious mes
sage, no kindly word-neglected his earn,
est request-passed by the courtesy and
gentleness that he strove to put into her
words.
Madam Vivian has no right to treat
me SOP she said again: and her girlish
face grew hard and lined with passionate
womanly feeling. Madam Vivian has
wronged met
And, in that half hour, while she sat
there by the lonely roadside, in the chill
gloomy evening, gazing at Stephen Tired
ennick's ~words-which came like balm TO
the crushed sad spirit, the panied lonely
heart-and thinking of Madam Viviau's
insulting GOODNESS and injustice, the gen.
tie timidity Of Winnie's girlish love passed
away for ever-changed into a proud wo-
mans deep silent passion, which she
might die for but never deny.
Sh folded the crumpled letter neatly,
kissed it, and hid il in her dress.
"In kindly remembrance of the giver,"
she said-'Stephen ~Tredennick, while /
have a heart to beat with love for himl'
CHAPTER TX.
All through the long hot summer day
the blazing sunlight reflected from the
great blue molten mirror Of the ocean,
from the granite face of the sheer precip-
itous cliffs, and with dazzling glare from
ohe snowy, whitewashed walls of the
Coastguard station, the flashingly-bright
windows of which concentrated the rays
to a focus like so many burning glasses
had the hot busy hours passed in the work
that seemed never to end, the tasks that
were only accomplished in series to make
room for more.
Winnie had washed, starched, and
ironed all those neat muslin blinds, and
put them up smooth and spotless again;
she had finished the little frock begun two
days ago for Louie, and hummed a line or
two of T%ennyson's Cradle Song
Sweet and low, sweet Rnd low,
Wind Of the Western sea!
as she tried the garment on, and found
that it fitted the baby owner so nicely; she
had baked the bread and "pasties," and
peeled the turnips and potatoes for dinner;
she had had some trifing occupation af-
forwards in the shape of sprinkling and
folding three dozen pieces of clothes
II despatching them to be mangled; she
had darned two table-clothes and three
pairs of boys socks; she had laid the table
for tea, and polished the spoons and tea
pot with whitening and chamois leather;
and, on Tommy distinguishing himself by
upsetting the tea-kettlc on the stove, she
had to undertake a hasty reflling, reboil-
ing, replenishing of the fire, and wiping up
of water and ashes.
True, Winnie had done this all unaided,
patiently, uncomplainingly; and "pity
twas twas true that it was counted but
as a thankless matter-of-course, deserving
of nc commentator or alienation.
She thought so herself, but she had be-
come so used to it. There are many
scores, hundreds, thousands-such patient
body-and-sOul wearers toiling for others,
not themselves, their toll evoking in re-
turn neither surprise nor gratitude.
There was nothing wonderful, there
fore, in this long summer days toll, which
had left Winnie's face so pallid and weary,
her small thin hands and arms so soiled
and discolored, which had r~oughened all
that twisted-up mass of ~brown-hair, and
had made the old blue bingham gown,
now in the last stage of shabbiness, SO
stained and f~rayed-only it was a pity.
Nature had meant that intellectual
brow, that expressive c%hangeful face, those
deep, passionate eyes, that slender, nerv.
Gus, supple form, as q casket to enshrine
rare endowments, if it lacked outwardly
her choicest workmanship.
1t was q pity, but the girl did not know
1t, or was only vaguely conscious of the
dull pain of remembrance of months and
years of toll like this. 1t had always been
soft would always be SO in the weary
years to come, she supposed, until she lay
in that messy grave in Trewillian church.
yard, and beneath the name of "Winifred,
the beloved wife of John Caerlyon," was
written that of her only child.
Pale-faced, hard-worked little girls, in
lonely hours, nave a morbid fancy for this
prospect of messy graves under weeping
willows. But just now Winnie Caerlyon
I!!lzE4zy.,
,jtI.,I hi A II ILUirI ~Tt1tiiUlU ,Lns