The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1901-02-13
Bachelor Browns Dilemma.
BY WILL 6 GIDLEY.


Copyright. 1900, by Daily Story Pub. Coz
Bartholomew Brown. or Bachelor
Brown as the neighbors called him.
was in quandary. His Aunt Abbie.
who for twenty years had kept house
for him, had left in a At of anger a
week before. declaring that she would
never come back, and Brown knew
only too well that she would keep her
word. That was one of the family
characteristics of the Browns-they
always kept their word. Aunt Abbie
was a Brown.
At the moment upon which our story
opens Bachelor Brown was ruefully
contemplating a loaf of bread which
even Mr.. Brown was willing to admit
was not an Improvement on that which
Aunt Abbie used to make. He was
wondering whether 1t was best to get
1t patented as a new style of paving
block or to chop 1t up with a hatchet
and attempt to eat 1t. He had MADE
the bread himself
Looks as II l missed It somehow on
that baking l s'pose l could eat 1t IL
tried hard, but fellow might as well
starve to death as die of indigestion.
Guess I'll have to fall back on bakers
bread for the present. About as soon
eat Eastwood chip.
Mighty sorry Aunt Abbie got her
back up and lit out-or no, | amt
either. I'm glad of It! She has bossed
me around about long enough. I've
been my own master for a few days,
and | rather like it-that Is, l would
II 1t wasn't for the trouble of cooking.
Wish I had a Chinaman to do that
for me--and speaking of Chinaman
reminds me that Aunt Abbie went off
without ironing my shirts. That's an
other delightful job I've got on my
hands. Guess I'll go ahead and do the
ironing now. and then perhaps | will
be hungry enough to eat this bread"
Mr.. Brown procured a couple Of fiat
irons from the closet and placed them
on the stove. Fifteen minutes later he
took one of them in his left hand,
held 1t in front of him, carefully
poised in the air with the bottom tilt
ed upward. Then moistening his right
fore-finger he gently touched the hot
iron with it just as Aunt Abbie used
to do; but instead of instantly with
drawing the finger he clumsily pressed
1t against the sizzling metal until 1t
scorched his flesh. With howl of
agony he dropped the fat-iron-an
eight-pounder at that-on his foot.
This was the first time in years that
Bartholomew Brown had done any
swearing. but he went at 1t like an old
hand. A tin-pedd'sr is not easily
frightened as a rule, but one happened
along while Brown was in the midst
Of his eruption, climbed down from
his cart end approached the kitchen
door. He got about half way up the
walk-and then he stopped and lis
tened. Just moment; and then he
turned pale. and whirling on his heels
went flying back down the walk.
At every farmhouse he visited dur
ing the remainder OF the day the ped
dler told thrilling tale of his narrow
escape from an encounter with "a
raging maniac in a big, white house,
a ways back"
Meantime Bachelor Brown, all un-
conscious that his fame was being her
aided abroad in the land, had cooled
down somewhat, had tied his burnt
finger up in creased rag and was
making another heroic attempt at
ironing.
There came a ring at the doorbell.
Great Peters!" he groaned. Wonder
who that can be at the door? Bet it's
a book-agent, and like as not she has
heard me tearing around here and
swearing. Well. If she has l hope it