The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1901-02-14
Bachelor Browns Dilemma.
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Aopyrlgnt, l9OO, by Daily Story Pub. Coz
bartholomew Brown, or Bachelor
Brown as the neighbors called him,
was In a quanIary. His Aunt Abbie.
who for twenty years had kept house
for him, had left in fit 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 Brown.
At the moment upon which our story
opens Bachelor Brown was ruefully
contemplating loaf of bread which
even MI. Brown was willing to admit
was not an improvement on that which
Aunt Abbie used to make. He was
wondering whether it was best to get
1t patented as a lew style Of paving
block or to chop 1t up with Ratchet
and attempt to eat it. He had made
the bread himself.
Looks as if missed it somehow on
that baking. s'pose could eat it if
I tried hard, but fellow might as we'll
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 few days,
and l rather like it-that is, would
If it wasn't for the trouble Of cooking
Wish had a Chinaman to do that
for me-and speaking of a 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
Oh the stove. Fifteen minutes later he
took one Of them in his left hand,
held it 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
it against the sizzling metal until it
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 it like an old
hand. A tin-pfdd'sr is not easily
Heightened as a fule, but one happened
g while BROWN was in the midst
Ea, eruptionS climbed Gown from
his Garland approached the kitchen
door. He got Eboyt half way up the
walk-and then hi stopped and lis
tened. Just a momAnt; and then he
turned pale, and whiting 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 a thrilling tale of his narrow
escape from an encounter with "a
raging maniac in big, white house,
a ways back"
Meantime Bachelor Brown, all I'M
conscious that his fame was being her.
aided abroad in the land, had cooled
down somewhat, had tied his burnt
finger up in a 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 its
book-agent, and like as not she has
heard me tearing around here and
swearing. Well, if she has hope it