Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1901-12-05


velvets. Poor old Mrs. Fiske! With
that old battered bonnet in view, out
of very pity wouldn't be surprised
if l created a masterpiece"
A light kiss and Datfy was gone oue
of the studio and up the street to-
ward home.
1t was yet early, and as she opened
the massive front door and tripped
upstairs to her pretty room, she
hummed a glad little song in very
lightness of heart. Her blues were
gone and her fingers fairly ached to
begin her facnating work.
At lunch time she came downstairs
with a glowing face, dancing merrily
in upon papa who had just come
home. She held something carefully
in her hand. Papa" she demanded,
IF nobody told you, what would you
call this?"
She held the something before him.
1t was a black velvet bonnet, daintily
and eXquisitely made. There was a
pretty bow of lace and satin in. the
front, and a little at one side dropped
lovely purple flower. There were
wide, rich. black satin strings to give
1t last and perfect touch.
Papa looked at it critically before
he spoke, then he smiled. "Bless my
SOUL" he cried, IF it isn't a bonnet,
and the very prettiest one I've seen
this long time. An old lady's bonnet,
isn't it, my dear. 1t must be, for it
looks good deal like the one mother
used to wear"
at is a good deal like it," said Daily
we'll pleased.
"Where did you get it, dear?"
made it, papa"
Papa stared. Hitherto he had re-
garded his gay, bright girl as some
thing of butterfly, beautiful to look
at, but incapable somehow of produc-
ing anything half so sensible and use
| full.
Seeing his interest, Daffy, without
further preface, seated herself on his
knee and told him all about it. "Lis-
ten, papa" she began. "Do you know
was feeling blue this morning"
Papa pinched the rosy cheek and
laughed.
"Well, l was, and l went over to
Kate's for sympathy. I was bemoan-
ing the fate that couldn't play, or
sing, or paint, as she does, when she
put this idea into my head. You know
I always make my own hats. l love
to, some way, and can always suit
myself better than the finest madams
anywhere in the city. Well; Kate
eheered me up by saying it was almost
as great a gift to create a bonnet as
it was to paint a picture. Isn't that
! just like the dear girl? Then she
finished by calling my attention to old
Mrs. Fiske's bonnet"
"Old Mrs. Fiske's bonnet?" repeated
papa. 'The old lady who lives down
by the church and who is so very
pOor?"
Daffy hooded. "The same" she an
swered.
well, her old bonnet is nearly fall
ing to pieces" she went on, land Kate
put the thought in my heart to make
her a new one. So 1 came home in a
hurry and have worked steadily all
the morning. Behold the result"
And a very pretty result, am
sure" said papa, touched in spite Of
himself. $50 you're going to present
1t to her, are you? Well, be careful
to do it gracefully, and if you need
any capital to carry on this mission
nry enterprise, come to your father.
Pm not sure but that it's a real Chris
ton one, too" went on papa thought
fully, "fOr many a good sermon has
fallen on stony ground because of a
shabby hat or bonnet The wearer
never fOrgets it, if the minister does.
Put a good hat on a woman's head
and You add to the pastors useful
ness, and at the same time increase
her self-respect. So good luck to your
new work, little daughter, and may
it flourish and prosper"
1t was Monday afternoon. Mrs.
Fiske was washing dishes in her little
kitchen. 1t was blue Monday with
her too for the morning had been q
hiscOuraging one. The wrinkled hands
shook u little as she lifted from the
water the coarse and cracked dishes,
placing them on the little rough
table. Mrs. Fiske was II and her hair
was white, old and poor, and now she
could no longer work as she had al
WAYS done. Living alone as she did,
she had fallen into the habit of talk
ing to herself.
When she had put the few dishes
away into the old wooden cupboard,
the first thing she did was to go into
the next room. There was a closet
in it, and she went to it and took from
it an old, dilapidated bandbox. She
lifted the lid and drew from it bon
net, a battered, dingy, black bonnet,
with rusty, worn strings. AS she
looked at it, her old eyes filled with
tears. eyes," she whispered, "it does
look bad, dreadfully bad. II won't
wear it any more. l heard one of the
Sunday school girls giggling at it yes
terday when she thought l didn't
hear. I'll certainly have to stay away
from church after this. tn be a
cross, and heavy one, but"
There was a light knock at the door.
Mrs. Fiske put the bonnet hurriedly
away and went to answer it. A young
girl stood there with sweet, dark
face and brilliantly glowing cheeks.
She held a handbook in one slender,
gloved hand.
1t was Daffy. Mrs. Fiske's wrinkled
face lighted. "Why, if it isn't Miss
Daffy," she cried. Come in. dear.
I'm so glad to see you"
Daily entered, then in a few min
utes she plunged into her subject.
"Mrs. Fiske," she began, her cheeks
roster than ever, 81 have a little knaclc
of making hats. l love to do it. L
make all my own, you know, and it