Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1902-05-08
When Mehitable
O Loved. O

Hopkins, was enough to make a
spinster of the lovliest girl ever
born. When she left school they
bore her off to Europe, where, while
her five years of travel gave her ex-
cellent knowledge of men in the COM
posite, man as an individual was en-
tirely unknown to her. Then fol-
lowed her fathers death and her
mothers long years of illness, when
all the daughters thoughts and en-
ergies were concentrated on the sick
room. Finally, to complete the
bands which all her life had been
forged to keep her in single blessed
ness, she found herself at IS with a
very comfortable fortune and not a
sign of a near relative with whom
to share it,. So that she hadn't even
that questionable excuse of becom-
ing married for the sake of a home.
If Mehitable had been n poor girl
she might have proved a genius, for
she could paint SO cleverly as to
make her rivals decidedly uneasy.
But now that she found herself a
lonely woman, with cruelty plain sill
yer lines over her temples, and no
longer any trace of the old-time
dimples where the sharp knuckles
now showed, her only resource was
her palette. One thing she stoutly
refused to do, however, and that
was to make q workshop of the old
family home. She at last hit upon
the tiny brown cottage in the next
square, where all the surrounding,
towering residences looked in heart
less disdain on the tu1nble-down
frame house which the owner, a
weak-voiced little old man, had chung
to desperately in spite of all his
fashionable neighbors' scorn and the
tempting offers of frantic real es-
tate dealers. The old man had been
found dead one morning that sum
mel with the rising suns rays trying
to warm his thin, white cheeks.
Then all the residents on the square
sighed in a relieved way, and the
shrewd real estate men began to
hunt up the heirs with new pro-
posals for the valuable bit of ground,
when 10, and behold! 1t was dis
covered that the poor, dead owners
will was being contested by d prodi-
gal son, and therefore the house
would have to remain where it was
until the question was settled. Again
the fashionable square squirmcd and
futtered, for it wa evident that no
II with any self-respect would want
to occupy the innocent cause of all
this trouble, while there was the ter
rible possibility that some s~acrile-
gious laundress might rent the little
landscape with her outrageous signs
and long lines of f%iannting shame
less sheets and ~petticoats.
At this point of suspended HOSTILE
ties Miss Hopkins conceived the bril-
liant idea of transforming the dis
puted property into a temporary
studio, to be used until the long legal
bubble should end. Whereat the
entire neighborhood was enthusiast
tically grateful.
At last it was finished, and it's tenn
porary owner held a reception to the
residents of the whole square. They
came, one and all, and went away
fairly delighted at the result. The
low walls had been done in an I'M
brokeD gray green, and the floors
laid soft and smooth with something
a shade darker. The poor, battered
woodwork now shone a dark rich
red, while the tiny window panes,
formerly so pitifully cheap looking,
were now voted quaint to a degree.
The ch~intz-covered couches were
qtantalizingIy inviting, and the simple
'%draperies added wonderfully to the
artistic whole. And throughout it
all there had not been done one
thing to mar any of the old houses
original charm beyond the necessary
nails and braces to steady the poor
little wreck.
For the first time in her life Miss
Hetty had time to be really happy,
and the big family house up on the
corne rarely knew her except when
she crept back there at dusk to her
solitary state dinner, and the undis-
turbed nights rest in the big, quiet
chamber on the second floor. Can
vases seemed fairly to fly from be-
meath her t~ireless fingers, and pretty
soon everybody came to recognize
her works because of the inevitable
old man, with a thin, pale face, who
always stood out against the back
ground of the old, slanting brown
house. When she one day showed
the last things she had done the
whole square tip-toed, wet-eyed, out
into the street again, with many a
penitent promise never again to
speak i'll of the battered little house
and it's efstwhile owner. For Miss
Hetty's masterpiece pictured the
dead, quiet face, there in the early
sun, with the shadows of the morn
ingeglory vines across his high, lined
forehead, and with one huge, rosy
blossom trailing in at the open case
ment as though trying to lend some
of its beautiful warmth to.the wasted,
patient cheek beyond.
snow that have SO many, I think
I shall try to sell them, for the
orphan asylum on the next street is
in sad need Of money, / hear. But I
think I'll not paint any more" she
added, softly, for he's dead now,
you know" And poor, fond, foolish
little Miss Hettie sobbed quietly as
she laid her trembling hand tenderly
on the beloved canvas. H
1t was that same evening that Mrs.
Wilmarth brought her brother, Maj.
Doane, to see the little collection.
Mrs. Wilmarth lived just across the