The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1899-09-01

| y ~ oNAA
lrrepressible murmured, low.
Miss Senthrilla was killing flies. It
was not promising omen. Diana could
see her lean, imposing figure, poised
warily, through the open windows, and
the resonant thumps of the folded
newspaper in her hand assailed the
girls ear forebodingly. There was so
little poetry in the sound!
but it's there-somewhere," she
thought, stubbornly.
Miss Senthrilla answered the knock
with prompt cordiality.
"Well, I'm glad to see you'll" she cried,
In her clear, strong voice. For min
ute Diana wondered if the poetry was
not in Miss Scnthrilla's voice.
you'll come right into the sitting
room, won't you? That's where take
my friends to. The parlor's for book
agents and the tax collector. I've been
killing fies-most likely you heard me.
It's my knitting work-and that's some
more of it."
She pointed to some bags and boxes
On the table near her sewing chai'
''If you'll sit down here opposite me in
this chair, I'll sit down and-knit! You
won't mind my being busy? shouldn't
be Scnthrilla West if wasn't"
I'D rather you would be busy" Di-
ana said, promptly. She sank in the
big chairs depths with little sigh of
comfort. Diana herself acknowledged
that she was lazy. Il like to watcn
other people work." she said, serenely
well, then you shall see me sort
over this old button box, my dear"
smiled Miss Senthrilla. II can talk,
too. I've been clearing up my unffn-
ished chamber, and brought all this
trash down to sort-dearie me!
haven't set eyes on this button box
before for most US many years as you
are old.'
But, Miss Senthrilla, I'm 20 years
old do button boxes live to be as old
as that?"
Miss Senthrilla poured the buttons
into her lap in a little clinlling cat
aruct. She glanced over at Diana, smil-
ing. This button box has lived 25-
80 years." she said, in her brisk, bright
voice that had no romantic cadences in
it. Il had it when l was just about
as old as you are. Now. let's see what's
in it! Dearie me, the trash! If you're
fond of antiquities, my dear, here you
are!"
She was threading her fingers
through the heap of green, old-fash-
ioncd buttons. An absent look was
stealing over Miss Scnthrilla's face in
a slow little wave. The clear-cut lines
about her firm mouth were softening
a little. One of the buttons rolled to
the edge of her lap and jumped over,
scurrying away out of sight.
"Oh!" Miss Senthrilla murmured,
heaping the buttons back into the box
and falling to her knees to look for
the nimble little runaway.
Let me find it," Diana said, quick
ly. Il think it rolled due cast"
zone flew east and one flew west,
and one flew over the old goose's nest,' +"
quoth Miss Senthrilla, to cover her
eagerness for the little button. Diana
smiled from her vantage ground under
| l4AS ttlblSs W. llllI ulloo oCllllll lila .
poetry? The irrepressible would NUT
ter something about its being bor-
rowed from Mother Goose.
Here's q button-is this it?" the
girl said, holding up tiny red shoe
button between her thumb and finger.
"Yes-yes, that's it," Miss Sen
thrilla cried eagerly. Il wouldn't have
lost that for anything. 1t was on lit
tie Tad's first pair o boots. They were
red ones-how mortal proud little Tad
was Of 'em! Dearie me, how he'd sit
with his feet straight out, admirIng
'em!"
Miss Senthrilla sat with the tiny but
in her face. Diana drew her chair
nearer.
Tad? little Tad?" she asked, with
gentle insiruation.
why, yes, little Tad-my little Tad.
Of course, he was Emmy's, but l al
ways called him mine. Emmy didn't
mind. He looked so much like big
Tad. and big Tad was almost mine"
Miss Senthrilla gave a little start,
and stole q look at Diana in confusion.
Then she Strengthened her tall figure
and spoke proudly:
"lt slipped out, my dear. and can't
get it back the way I did little Tad's
button. It's got to stay out. l never
ct it slip out before. Big Tad was
mine before he was Emmy's, but he
well, he slipped out. 1t was best,
guess. Emmy needed him most. She
was pretty, weak little thing-whcn
big Tad died she came and lived with
me-she and little Tad. The blessed
little spot O. sunshine! He was al
ways my Tad after that. bought the
little red Shoes"
1t was quiet in the quaint, sunny lit
tie room for awhile. Diana could only
hear soft, subdued hum of bees in the
honeysuckle vines, and the gentle
click of the buttons under Miss Sem
thrilla's fingers. The little red shoes!
they were line of Miss Senthrilla's
poetry. The first verse had been big
Tad's verse, but instinctively Diana
knew that little Tad had filled all the
other verses. She sat very still and
waited for the rest. Miss Senthrilla
chose another button from the pile. 1t
was covered with faded blossom
sprigged silk.
1T came off my wedding DRESS" Miss
Senthrilla said. "Yes, my dear, mine.
1t was Emmy's afterward, but it was
mine first. There were pink posies all