Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1902-01-02

Kate's for sympathy. I was bemoan-
ing the fate that I 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. I love
to-, some way, and can always suit
myself better than the finest madams
anywhere in the city. Well, Kate
cheered me up by saying it was almost
as great q gift to create 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?"
Daily NODDED. "The samc," 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 new one. So came home in a
hurry and have worked steadily all
the morning. Behold the result"
"And very pretty result, I am
sure" said papa, touched in spite of
himself. $50 you're going to present
it to her, are you? Well, be careful
to do it gracefully, and if you need
any capital to carry on this mission
airy enterprise, come to your father.
I'm not sure but that it's 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 fcrgets it, if the minister does.
Put a good hat on q 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"
It 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
discouraging one. The wrinkled hands
shook q 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 all old, dilapidated bandbox. She
lifted the lid and drew from it a bon
net, 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. I heard one of the
Sunday school girls giggling at it yes
terday when she thought didn't
hear. I'll certainly have to stay away
from church after this. It'll be a
cross, and a heavy one, but"
There was light knock at the door.
Mrs. Fiske put the bonnet hurriedly
away and went to answer it. A young
girl stood there with a sweet, dark
face and brilliantly glowing cheeks.
She held handbook in one slender,
gloved hand.
1t was Daffy. Mrs. Fiske's wrinkled
face lighted. "Why, if it isn't Miss
Daffy," she cried. s'Come in, dear.
I'm SO glad to see you"
Daffy entered, then in a few min
utes she plunged into, her subject.
"Mrs. Fiske," she began, her cheeks
roster than ever, II have little knack
of making hats. I love to do it.
make all my own, you know, and it
came to me to make you one too. I
made it as carefully as [ could, and
I want you to accept it with my love.
It's not much, but I want you to
know I loved to do it for you. 1t
made me happy all the morning and
now want it to make you happy too
As she spoke, she drew it from its
tissue paper wrappings. Such a beau
tiful, tasteful, artistic little bonnet,
with its knot Of lace and satin, it's pur-
!
pie flower, its wide, handsome strings
Mrs. Fiske saw it and her chin quiv-
cred. 'sWhy, it's beautiful" she cried,
"just beautiful. never had anything
half SO pretty in my life; and you
made it, you say?"
Daffy NODDED; then something in
the sweet, old, wrinkled face moved
her to confidence and she told her all
about it, how she had sorrowed over
lack of gifts and how Cousin Kate had
helped her.
"You dear child" said Mrs. Fiske,
when she had finished. "You dear,
good child. Why, don't you see," she
went on, shat you're doing the Lords
work just the same as the minister