Hot Springs weekly star. (Hot Springs, S.D.) 1892-1917, 1898-07-08

u sphere quite as bravely as 9th
CIR hats aud bonnets in more ambitious
windows. Occasionally n half grown
girl. often IL negro girl, sauntered in
with idle look and hesitating step. AT
other times IL very small boy or girl
could be seen entering the door, to
emerge directly with Il tiny package
which 1 concluded must contain
needles, thread or a yard Of ribbon.
From these signs I made out the occu,
pant to he an humble shop keeper.
Nevertheless. the p .thetic bonnets
and occasional customers were the only
evidences of life within.
Many moments of despairing home.
sickness came to be bridged over in
the silent house house over the way.
"NVho lives there?" | inquired one
morning of the maid who tended my
room.
'l)at's ole Margaret Deane."
Scan you not say Miss Margaret" /
asked, severely.
"Folks jess calls her Ole Margaret
Deane," she returned, callously.
"Who lives with her?"
"Jes' Ibis 10y herself. She dom want
no company"
"Of cohrse,"I continued, "the neigh
boris look after her."
"No'm, de folks bout here tends ter
dar own business"
This habit of Bourbonsville, however
p%raiseworthy to Susan, was not SO to
me.
"If she is lonely, I shall go to see
her,
"Foiks say you is like her." said Su-
san.
"What do you mean?" l asked in
crushing tones. often necessary with
Susan. My spirits were at the lowest
ebb. The day had brought on a train
of sprites to tease me. The warm,
sweet sunlight; the high notes of the
lark; the subtle fragrance of a jasmine,
had sent my soul southward; and when
q marvellous trill from Margaret
Deane's hooking bird floated into my
room, 1 had given way to tears, in a
most delightful manner hud been
thinking of Job, who, with all his boils,
was never homesicls. He could look
out on the dear old landmarks of Uz,
and could not be utterly bereft. He
could, no doubt, in his bitterest mo-
ments, see the herds, though no longer
his, browsing on the green hillside.
"How am I like her?"I demanded,
ignorant of whether she was spinster
or matron.
81 don't know mem, but dat's what
dey say"
"Do I look like herr"
la, nom. You look young. You
do
Swell, I'm not young" I Unanswered un-
gratefully.
"You look, yes," in a speculative
tone, "youlook a hundredyeahs young
er than she do, aldo" with much men,
tai calculation, sit may be yo' prim-
PIN
SWELL, go on with your work. Don't
touch those papers. I'll dust them"
"Yo don't paint, an yo' teef is yourn;
least 1 never see UNI out. But you has
a rale young and purity look"
I felt cheered. It was but the shad-
ow of a compliment from the stupid
est, ugliest, blacklist African, but it
was my first in Bourbonsville.
"She may be lonely. shall go to
see her." Imeant to impress Susan
with my determination.
mo quality goes dar. She dom keep
quality things"
But l dared Susan's contempt.
When I entered the gloomy shop and
met the eyes of Margaret Deane and
heard her voice, "What would you be
pleased to look at? "a voice such BIS /
had heard in southern drawing rooms
in the old days. 1 stammered in some
confusion.
"a yard of ribbon!"
THE color?:"
"Oh! Well, anything you have!"
\ shadow of a smile fitted across
her thin lips as she patiently waited Il
a more definite answer
sBlack will do" I said desperately.
She looked so old and broken down.
Her thin grey hair lay in little crimps
over "a wrinkled brow. Pale blue. wat
cry ayes. with all the girlish light gone
from them. looked into mine. The
rusty black gown hung loose about hel
attennated form. Bereft of all charm
of color or form: older than her years
warranted. u withered, broken figure
she appealed to me in an indescribabl,
manner. 1t may have been her voice
strangely sweet and soft; her accen
according to Shakespeare, ''an excel
lent thing in woman" was altogethe
southern, and 1 involuntarily smiled a
kl,n% m, ,,, ofor;ck:o ~l;fpo.n,,o A. L.