Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1898-09-01

school ana leaulng a life OF almost
thankless drudgery. Her health was
suffering She had not even nourishing
food, boarding around, first in one fam
lily, then in another, in that narrow
New England circle, and she hailed
with delight the change that took her
to the broad. free frontier, to a little
army home where there We're sympathy,
kindness and comfort Her duties
were light She read aloud from books
OF Mrs Barry's selection each morning
from 10 to 10, but was given most of
the afternoon for exercise and recrea-
ton. From to a the major himself sat
by the side of the gentle invalid, and in
the evening, as rule, both were with
her. Mrs. Barrys tastes We're scholarly,
and the morning readings were liberal
education to the village girl whose pre-
vious life had been SO cramped and re-
stricted. She proved most faithful-in-
deed most grateful. She grew and
thrived and blossomed in the society of
her protectors and friends She grew to
love Mrs. Barry as she had loved none
of her own kith and kin since the death
of her mother. five years gone by. Her
father she could remember only vaguely.
She was barely years old when his
coffined remains, draped in the flag he
had died to defend, were brought back
from Virginia and laid away in the lit
tie churchyard. She was gentle, pure
hearted maid, only 10 this stormy
spring of 1878. She had been somewhat
angular and bony and followed eyed
and sallow checked when first she came
to the Barrys, but healthful food and
exercise and the bracing mountain air
and sound sleep and sweet companion
ship and freedom from care and worry
one and all had done their work, and
Mrs. Barry woke up one fine day to the
realization that they had genuine
New England beauty under their roof
q winsome girl whose features and col
oring were as dainty and fair as those
of the Puritan maid Priscilla. The thin
neck and bony shoulders and arms had
given place to firm, rounded, dimpled
members, beneath skin so white as to
be almost dazzling. The hollow eyes
were gone, for tender light burned in
their blue depths, delicate flush played
over the soft, rounded cheeks, and
smile of sweet content lowered about
the corners of her rosy mouth, that,
year gone by, quivered, pale and piteous
''How that girl has improved since
you brought her out, dear'' said the
major one sunshiny afternoon as Ma
thalie started for her brisk walk over
the prairie.
'Then you've noticed it,, answered
the invalid, patting his big, brown
hand. "It has been very sweet to me to
watch it. She's good, true hearted
girl, Arthur
"Oh, I'm not tho only one to notice
it, Mary! Several people have spoken of
it to me, and as for young Maynard.
I'm afraid it's getting Serious
"My responsibility is very grave
one where she is concerned, said Mrs
Barry after thoughtful pause. "Of
course I could not but know that Mr..
Maynard was greatly attracted, else he
wouldn't have managed to walk with
| her or to call here so often. Do you
know anything Of his people?''
Nothing whatever, and little of him
except that he acts like gentleman on
all occasions, attends to his duties, does
not drink or gamble and lives within
his means. Stannard and Truscott say
he's one of the best of the youngsters.
and Blake says he stood the initiatory
six months at Mrs. Turner's apron
strings without sign of smuggling his
wings"
"Well, that thraldom is at an end
certainly" said Mrs. Barry. "He came
here and asked her to go to the next
hop with him and begged me to inter-
cede. did. told her I'd like to have
her go If only to look on, but she would
not do it. She says she never danced in
her life. Mrs. Stannard came in awhile
ago, and she talked with her-offered
TO be her chaperon and was as kind and
sweet as possible, but Nathalie shook
her head and compressed her lips, and
we saw it was useless. But others adj
mire her besides Mr.. Maynard. Hunter
and Dana visit us frequently, and Dana
has invited her to drive, but she de-
clined. Why, do you suppose?"
"Her puritanical bringing up prob
ably. Dana ism It half bad fellow and
comes of good stock. Hunter doesn t
amount to much. He's feather Drained.
Well, let's get at our book.
And meantime the object of this
household chat was picking her way
among the drifts and walking blithely
and briskly over the barren prairie
well to the north Of the post, singing
solemn little songs to herself-sober,
old fashioned hymn tunes as rule, yet
catching herself now and then hum
ming some one Of the stirring quick
steps or waltzes she had heard at the
band concerts, whereat she would sud-
denly break off and return to ''Brattle
Street" or Coronation. "Jerusalem
the Golden, it seems, had been deem.
ed too jubilant, consequently too car
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