Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-03-02
The House of Arabella
By MAURICE SMILEY

[ D girl! Where is she, any way?" The tones were hard and bitter, and the sharp voice rose to fury.
 Here I am, auntie," said childish voice. "I was peeling potatoes for din ner out on the porch, where it is warmer"
 "Oh, here you are, auntie." mim- licked her aunt, disagreeably. You didn't hurt yourself hurryin'." Her anger, however. was somewhat molli- lied when she saw the girl had been, do- ing something useful. "It's wonder" " she added, spitefully, you wasn't moon in over some book or other or thinkin' about Joe Vincent. Joe Vincent, in deed!" she sniffed, scornfully. Much good it'll do you to make eyes at him. when you know he is sweet on Evaline." . A hot blush rose to the girls brow at the words, and she clenched her hands as she set the dish down on the porch and seated herself to complete her task.
 Mrs. Martin was hard by nature and years of struggling with poverty and hard luck on a New England farm had soured what little of the milk of hu- man kindness there ever was in her makeup. She loved her own daughters after her own fashion, and all her hard ness seemed stored up against her dead sisters child. Who knows what may slumber at the bottom of woman's heart? From the day her sister had married handsome Jim Randall, who disappeared eight years later. leaving her with boy of seven, the sisters never spoke to each other. A daughter was born six months after the fathers disap- pearance, and then came ten years of bitter struggle, with want. before the mother gave up, worn out. The boy had gone west, and the girl, not il years old, was just saved from the poorhouse by the family pride of Mrs. Martin.
 But often and often had Bella thought that 1t would have been better for her if she had gone to the poorhouse, where she would at least have been treated more kindly. She was thinking some thing of this now, and then more pleas ing thought came into her mind, for a blush crept slowly over her face. It must have been Joe Vincent that brought 1t there, for Joe Vincent was
 
 life. He was only 19--but he was study ing law! Some day, perhaps-but that was far ahead.
 You won't be staying here always, Bella" he had said to her just the other day. "I'm studying law, you know, and some day I'll have an ofice-and- and" .".a ] But Bella had run laughing and blush ing into the house, and Joe had gone home with bird in his heart. She was thinking of this now, when her aunt's harsh voice made her start: E| : Lands alive! Haint you got them potaters peeled yit?' "Yes, they are all done, auntie," was the reply, as the girl entered the house, followed by her aunt.
 T wish that harum-scarum brother of yours would come back and take you off my hands, or that good-for-nothin' father"
 Stop, auntie," cried the girl, and there was something new in her voice that made her aunt pause. You shall not say one word against my father, and as for Jack, he will come back some day, as soon as he has struck it rich out there in the Klondike." A
 "Yes, he's comin'," retorted Mrs. Mar tin. Sos Christmus comin', an a purty one it'll be, won't it?"
 Do you know what I'm goin' to do with your" suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Martin in the midst of her dinner prep arations casting vindictive look at the girl. "I'm goin' to bundle you off to the poorhouse, where you Belong. There's too many mouths to feed here. You can stay here till after Sunday, but you go bright and early Monday mornin'."
 Bella grew pale for an instant, then she said, calmly:
 "You may turn me out, if you wish, auntie, but I'll not go to the poorhouse. I can go to the city and make my own living. I will not wait until tomorrow. I will go to-day"
 She left the room without further words.
 Be careful, 'Tildy," warned MT. Mar tin. Don't be too hard on the girl. She is help to you. Besides, suppose she should find out something about the mortgage and the deed. This farm isn't ours, you must remember"
 That's just why she's got to go," in- terrupted his wife. "She don't know nothin' yit, but there ain't no tellin' when she will, an we'd better be clear of her before she does find out The deed ain't never been recorded We've got to sell this place to the railroad while we've got 8 chance. The girls kin do the work themselves. 1t won't hurt 'em.''
 Well" assented her husband, weak ly, maybe you are right. But hate to see the girl turned out of her own" 'FYou put your sympathy where it'll do some good" snapped Mrs. Martin. Think of mo an the girls. What will become of us if she ever finds out?"
 Upstairs, in her own shabby little room, Bella was making preparations for her departure. She had never had any great cause to love the old farm but somehow she felt pang at parting, after all. She had no conception of life in great city. But she felt a new sense of dignity. She was 8 woman now, no longer a child. She would talk it over