The Forrest City times., 1903-06-12
BY OLIVE DIBERT.


"A kitchen, carrying pan piled
high with new potatoes, she threw an
impaticntly sharp glance toward her
husband. He was standing near a
chair, his hand resting weakly on its
back.
You kin talk to me forever. Iii
Clawson, bout that water; but il
l had fifty springs stead o. fifteen
and the dry season lasted twelve
months stead o six, not a drop, not
solit'ry drop would Mary Long git
from one o my trenches. She's no
friend o mine"
"She WIZ back east, mother
Clawson choked at his own holiness.
Her vegetables is all dryin' up-her
boarders is leavin' on ev'ry down
stage"
A faint red showed itself under
Mrs. Clawson's dark, wrinkled skin.
She lowered her brows ominously.
"D'yeh happen To mind Mary Long
apprenticeship that Ed never do better
than pick up crooked stick in the
matrimonyel MARKET"
Clawson had heard the report of
Mary Longs speech on the occasion
of many family jars; yet the words
never failed to make him vince. He
sat down, throwing one knee over
the other. Then he crossed his wrists
and let his head fall forward humbly.
Il wouldn't lift a finger Mrs. Claw
sons voice was as solemn as the toll
ing of bell for Mary Long,
wouldn't give her a cup o tea if she
come a-beggin' at my back door. No;
not-not if even Bobbie asst me to-"
Bobbie was their son; and to refuse
any request of his was the final test
and triumph of Mrs. Clawson's will
power
Clawson's eyes followed his wife as
as she drew up "A chair and began to
scrape the skins from the small, pink
brown potatoes. A look of incred-
ulity came into his patient stare and
rested there.
After little while, he said, still
observing his wife keenly: Il never
knew yeh to refuse Bobbie anything
yet. l bet if he'd want o. marry
Mary Longs gurrl you'd
But he stopped speaking, silenced
by the glare from his wife's dark
eyes.
The hand holding the knife began
to tremble.
"You ought o be ashamed o. YOUR
self saggestin' seeh thing. Our
Bobbie TO marry into that family.
I'd rather he'd marry an Injun from
up the valley. Don't set there with
that look on your face as if you
b'lieved sech a thing could happen"
She threw her head up stitiiy, keep
ing her eyes on her husband, mean
ing to look him out of countenance.
His glance dropped. Don't let's
quarrl. mother. Got anything for
me to do? Got plenty o. wood in?"
For moment she was silent Her
husband must not be permitted to
imagine that her indignation could be
appeased by any such trifiing over
lures.
YES" she said, cutting off the word
fiercely, II have got somethin' fer YOU
to do. Strengthen up that trench
where il makes the sharp turn mex
Mary Longs field. Wen be irrigatin'
her corn-patch the frs thing YOU
know She spoke contemptuously;
then she laughed, low, and malici-
ousliy. That dry trench o hers with
only foot or two of solid ground
between il and that fine little stream
of ours. And some time. father. be-
tween this and bedtime. | want YOU
TO take stick and scratch two o.
three little channels down Towards
the tomatoes. The other garden stuff
is fairly CROWN up out of swamp;
but, somehow, the tomatoes has been
forgot"
Clawson rose and slowly left the
room.
While Mrs. Clawson prepared the
noon-hour dinner. she frequently
peered up the long slope leading from
the kitchen porch. 1t was planted in
methodical patches of garden truck.
Some of the green elumps had out
grown their strength and could be
seen to sprawl, as if for support, over
smaller. stockier growths. Mrs.
Clawson's gaze was bounded by a
hedge of manzanita, whose small
trunks and twisted limbs showed a
soft red. like dressed cedar. A wide
ditch ran along the hedge. the water
turning near the group of pines and