Sharp County record., 1903-01-30

with n name, but was simply caIlto
"aniline dye" IT was quite fad IN the
village, and everybody who had any
claim to distinction possessed some
thing dyed to this particular hue. Mrs
Pottsey had impaired the startling
tint to several objects in tEe room
The ribbon which held back the Not
tingham lace curtains showed their ac-
0uaintance with the dye pot. The che
mile cover Of the small table on which
law the family bible, took on the same
apoplectic glow.
Mrs. Pottsey was engaged in putting
the finishing touches to the room, by
going over a stripe of dirty white in
the breadths of rag carpet, with a
raint brush and a tomato can full Of
the dye. The knock at the door caused
her to pause, and upon her invitation
Lazy Joness" entered. He had long
been endeayoring to brOach the sub
iect of life partnership TO Mrs.
Pottsey, but. when her sharp eyes were
looking at him, he felt as if his soul,
with its mixed motives, was laid bare
before her, and his courage oozed out.
She pointed now to her handiwork
and said: "Ain't this room beau
tiful?"
"Yes, Mis- Pottsey, yes; it's d,
all em-'hem--it's very beautiful, l
never see anything that suited me
better"
And, indeed, he had not, for he in
wardiy pictured himself reposing on
the lounge with pillow under his
head and a pipe in his mouth.
you're a master hand at fixin' up
things, Mis- Pottsey; you know how
to make a-body comfortable, don't
you?"
"My powers of mind is sech," an
swered Mrs. Pottsey, that when 1
likes people I can make 'em comfort
able, and when I don't like 'em, can
make 'em purity uncomfortable"
Mr. Jones' did not know whether to
regard this as encouragement or
Encouragement.
"Would you--er-could you-er-"
doubt here assailed him-"lend me
your hoe?" he lamely concluded.
Walking home, he resolved a last
resort, to trust his fate to written
missive. He was not "handy," to use
a local phrase, with the pen, and com
position presented unknown horrors
to him, but something must be done.
When he was gone, Mrs. Pottsey
smiled grimly. mo sech truck ez him
don't take me I'M" she remarked.
A few days later, Mrs. Pottsey was
preparing to can some plums. She was
seated on the back porch with bushel
basket of plums on one side and a
large jar on the other. On her lap was
apan filed with the fruit. Deacon Slat-
terry leaned against support to the
porch and chewed q straw medita-
lively.
"Well, you got job before ye eff
you're goin' to peel all them plums,' y
he at last observed.
"Twon't take me long" she re-
sponded; they're wild plums, and
they taste kind of puckery if they
amt peeled"
Judging by the constant stream of
peeled plums leaving her hand for the
jar, it was evident the process would
not occupy her for great length Of
time.
Mighty big lot Of pbyns for one
woman to eat" he ventured.
Pm that fond Of plums I could
eat 'em every day in the year!" she an
swered.
Deacon Slattery rubbed his chin
thoughtfully and decided to take an
other tack. He was wise, even beyond
his years, which were many, so Ne
said, after gazing at her thoughtfully
for a few moments:
"You are a powerful good lookin'
woman, Zenobia."
"Oh, pshaw, now, deacon, sech an
old woman as mel" but he noticed a
little flush stealing over her sallow
cheek.
Well satisfied with his progress, he
went on.
81 declar', on my honor, when you
come walkin' in church Sunday all
rugged out, l thought you was the
handsomest woman there!" 49, oh
shameless deacon!-"and | never see
a woman at could turn out work like
you kin. As | says to Jim Watson
t'other day, sez l, Il don t'know where
you can pint out a woman as young
lookin' for her age as Mis- Pottsey.'
get kinder lonesome at times. an I've
often thought I'd like some smart,
good-lokin' woman fyin' round the
house, fryin' my potatoes an bakin'
my pancakes fer me-" the deacon went
on, with a sad note in his voice.
"Why don't you Git somebody,
then?" asked Mrs. Pottsey.
Here was distinct encouragement.
"Well, now, kinder thought maybe
you was tired livin' alone, too said
the deacon.