The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1904-03-04
Mother nanette's
% Sacrifice. %
The Price She Paid to Save
Her Son.

ifs it still no, Mother Nanette:"
Mother Nanette spun, as was ner
custom. before the door. With one
movement of her nimble old myers
she seized the fast revolving spindle.
Then she raised her clear, bright eyes
to the man and mixed in her tone
friendly reproof:
"But Toinonchon, the joke goes too
far. I, an cid woman, to sell my hair
as girl might to buy furbelows. Ina1
would indeed be too laughable. nave
said to you 100 times, no.
Antoine Honlin, whom everybody III
the village called Toinonchon, ap-
preached with melancholy face and ad-
mired the wonderful! silver tresses
showing under the double hood when
the old woman wore.
Mother Tantia, you do wrong TO re-
ject my offer. You have small for
tune there on your head. Brown or
light hair, one can find more than
one wants, but such abundant so1e
white hair as yours-that is rarity
indeed"
Zone ground more that should keep
this rarity" replied Mother Nanette,
laughing.
"By no means" interrupted the
tempter "You are allowing fine OPP
portunity to escape you.
See, have offered you $50 francs.
T will add so more-2OO francs. That
is a sum. So much no one else will
give.
mo, the affair is settled. Give me
your hand on it,"
He extended his hand, but instead
of Offering hers, Mother Nanette
proudly stroked the beautiful white
ornament of her old age.
mot for a thousand, young man.
You don't know how I pride myself
on my snowy hair, and what pleasure
it gives me when people admire it.
The mayor said the other day:
"'Your white hairs, Mother Nanette,
are the witness and crown Of your
honest life
''And it is true"
The hair dealer shrugged his Shout
ders.
Mere talk. The gold would serve
you we'll in your circumstances. With
out it you may suffer. Every one
knows that you are not rich, Mother
Tantia."
zone is always rich enough when
one can work; earn my bread by
spinning. Besides, my grandson Jean
found a good place in Paris. When
he has saved some money he will come
back again. We will buy piece of
ground and then no one could reed
more. Leave me in peace, Toinon-
chOn."
With stubborn. tenacity he contin-
ued:
But you might get Sick What
would become of you then? 1t would
be so simple to lay the 200 francs aside,
and who will know that you have sold
your hair when you wear hood?"
Impatiently she looked at him.
go your way l must despise my
self if 1 listen to you. Nevertheless, !
believe should die of sorrow if my
hair were cut off. No word more on
the subject"
"As you will,' he said at last; "but
remember, place 200 francs at your
disposal"
He withdrew, turned around after
some steps, and said, holding one finger
in the air: 1.-TWO hundred francs;
think of it!"-
The old woman made a gesture OF
e. ho no
appeared at the corner of the street.
) This conversation had taken place on
a Sunday afternoon, and, as she had
been accustomed for 20 years, Mother
Nanette went toward evening to de-
liver TO the tenants wife the flax car
ried away during the week, receiving
for it the customary pay-a large loaf
of bread and modest silver coin.
Nimble and joyous, the old woman
returned home by nightfall, the bread
under her arm and the coin in the
pocket of her black apron. In spite OF
her, 20 years she still walked vigor-
ously.
Nearing the threshold of her door
she noticed her neighbor, Marietta
Costil, the shoemaker's wife, who
wanted to give her letter which the
postman had brought in her absence.
A pleasant smile cleaned over the
fresh and cheerful face of the old
woman.
..The letter is from my grandson.
Jean Tantia.'
u The neighbor shook her head. II do
not know" she said. II do lot -ecog-
uize his handwriting-and then would