Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1899-06-01
Bits Sore Point
DESCENDANT topnote was abo

A DISCORDANT topnote was about
~ to issue from Nance's unbeautiful
mouth and her red complexion glowed
dimly through cloud Of freckles. She
wore the greater part of blouse, which
the belt around her waist refused to
gather in with the upper portions OF
her tattered skirt. pair of extra
sized feet, shod in her fathers boots,
carried Nance to the hut door, and once
there she relieved herself of n mighty
veil. This arrested the attention OF
several bare-legged youngsters who
were padding in shallow portions OF
the muddy creek.
att aln't bedtime nohow!" they
shrieked in chorus, "'cause dad amt
to home"
An old woman, crouched on log near
the water, looking from the distance
like an anthropoid ape, babe Nance
leave the "kids" to their pleasure.
Nance marched over to where Gran sat,
suddenly came to dead halt, smiled
In a very suspicious manner and
pinched her own nose between finger
and thumb.
"Sakes! What are you eatin', Gran%
"Ror onion" came the reply.
Then you'd oughter be shot!"
"Why. Nance?"
"Bfl Hargrove-he's comm over
from Kettle Gully. He'll be akin me
for his wife tonight, cause he said So"
Gran looked up with supreme indif-
ference, bit the onion with zest and in
formed Nance that the uncoolled escu-
lent was n certain cure for freckles
when freely INDUCED in. Nance's baby
ish blue eyes filed with tears as she
murmured in reply: THAT Bill never
made no shine about her freckled face"
you'd best be sprucin' up a Bit"
she spitefully suggested, as Gran
pocketed the remainer of the onion, "or
else keep out O. sight when Bill comes
land out O. smell!7
The old woman, grumbling an inaudi-
bic rejoinder, then limped away toward
the hut. Nance seated herself on the
log and bemoaned her grandmotherS
overfree indulgence in the vulgar-smell-
ing esculent. She drew novelette, from
her pocket and deity selected a pas
sage from It's pages in order to aug
ment her woe. "The Lady Clarissa," 1t
stated, in tripping lightly through the
offensive farmyard unfortunately an
noyed the sensitive olfactory nerves Of
her high-born lover
Nance laid the book In her lap and al
most sobbed as she wondered whether
Bill Hargroye had any olfactory nerves.
The word was q dark enigma to the
simple girl. After constant repetition
of it in her own pronunciation she
marched boldly home for Grams opin-
ion concerning it.
"Gran," she cried, "p'raps our Bill
amt got no 'all-factory' nerves, eh?"
What's them? Factory nerves-no!
There amt nothing machincmade
about young Bill lIargrove. lie were
brought up on good clay soil and cows
milk. Don't you worrit over Bills
nerves cause he amt got none."
Gran Vardon being the acknowledged
oracle OF Doughboy's Hollow, on 40
count 1T her immaculate cheeses, Nance
Mt oner accepted her assertion as fact
indisputable and impaticntly awaited
Bills arrival. Poor Nance She had
strlven 10 enlarge the horizon of her
mind by the perusal of exciting fiction
ever since Bill Hargrove had taken to
playing nightly eueher with dad when
at home or Gran. And she was in daily
expectation of some such experience
enlivening her drudgeful solitude rs
happened continually to the heroines of
romance.
Bill arrived and seated himself upon
the chair that Nance, earlier in the day,
had polished SO vigorously In his honor.
He was much unshaven, his broad face
begrimed with red clay, with shirt
sleeves rolled we'll up to the shoulder.
He looked far from hero, yet simple
Nance thought him quite adorable. His
features, grossly irregular, were over
dominated by nose resembling the
spade-ace in a pack of cards. His sau-
cer-eyes travelled in q fixed orbit,
round and round, as if the washing pan
or gold sieve were ever in his clutch.
Gran, on more than one occasion, had
insinuated that Bill was "no beauty
but to this and many similar aspersions
Nance chose to be deaf.
dad amt yet to home" she an
nonaced, as Bill scraped his heavy boot
sole on the spindle of the chair.
"Oh, amt he? Then I guess it's
eucher with Gran"
mo, 1t ANTI" Gran replied with much
crispness-"it's our Nance is after ask
ing you riddle, Bill"
"All-factory?" queried Nance, whats
1t mean, Bill?"
Looking aimlessly up into the smoked
Tafters. Bill said it was fresh word to