Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1904-10-26
The Knitted
Counterpart
BY SUSAN HUBBARD MARTIN.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS;

w OIlue 10 OION:l fOlul the "uOlS
hart.-wcrking, humble church member
ship stood ready to receive her with
open arms. but at the first steady
self-contained greeting of that young
lady. they felt ON the whole that it
was not necessary.
They loved the minister and they
wanted to love her too, but noting
the cold glance Of the keen eyes that
seemed to take stock of their every
blen1ish and imperlection, they shrank
back abashed.
She had come from a mOneyed fam
lily, and her acquaintance with peo-
pie who actually toiled had been slight
but she had not hesitated when the
minister put to her the momentous
question. The matter of life with
Bertram, or life without him, did not
take her long to settle, for under
meath the crust Of her worldliness
there beat a truly gentle, generous
heart, only from her manner one would
never have guessed it.
She quite filled the parsonage with
beautiful things; pictures, Statuary
and soft carpets. Filmy lace curtains
draped the old-fashioned windows and
the table glittered with cut glass and
silver She had always been accus-
toned to these things and she really
gave them little thought but to her
husbands flock these possessions were
both a revelation and a JOY. 1t would
of them to have viewed these lovely
treasures with merry feeling of COM
radeship with the mistress of it all, but
she invited no confidence, she encour-
aged no familiarity. They were bound
down by such hard, narrow lives, that
to them she seemed a bright, beautiful
being of world not their own.
Then too, she seemed to resent their
well-meaning efforts and calls. Not
that she said anything, but she al
ways wore her coolest air and her
grandest manner every time they met,
so they invariably left her presence
feeling greater strangers than ever
with the tall, stately girl (for she was
but a girD, who was their minister's
wife
They only come out of curiosity,
Bcrtram," she would tell the minister
when she spoke of their visits. ''They
come. not to see me but my house.
l declare l never saw anyone stare at
things as does Mrs. Wilkins. Why
does she do it? And what do you think
Mrs. Atwood asked me yesterday? If
I knew how to play THE Maiden
Prayer The idea! l should think she
would know better. 1t does seem to
me that the people here are 40 years
at least behind the times. l wonder
what they'd think if I'd play for them
that fantasy from 'Liszt.' No doubt
they'd much prefer My Old Kentucky
Home'"
mo doubt they would" repeated the
minister gently; "but you must not
judge them too harshly, dearest Poor
old Mrs. Atwood! And so she wanted
to know if you knew The Maiden's
Prayer Perhaps it was the only Sc
lection she remembered from youth
that vas never an easy one.
Julia he added after a moments
silence, cts nard, dear, for you to
understand, but these are my people
My life is linked with theirs, ordinary
and illiterate as some of them may be-
am their shepherd. Don't you re-
member what was said of Jesus in the
ministry? This-'The common people
heard him gladly All, my dear, the
common people, after all, are a great
and telling force for good or evil, and
I'm working with them and for them
and if--(his voice trembled)-if by
any act of mine l can enrich and
widen these narrow and confined
lives, shall feel that 1 have not la
bored in vain.''
His grave face lighted little
*'They're good, faithful friends, little
wife, he added, IF they cannot un.
derstand classical music, and I DOM
believe, in the last day, that this charge
will be laid to them. They understand
the law of 5rotherly love and kind.
ness at least. When I had that at.
tack of pleurisy before you came,
believe I certainly would have dice
had it not been for Mrs. Dodge, bu
I suppose in the eyes of the worlt
she would be called very dowdy
and old-fashioned. She's Wor1
her bonnet seven years, for sh,
told me SO. and she's probably
never heard of Chaucer. She coult
lot tell you, if her life depended upo1
IL, whether Byron wrote Childe Harol<
or Childe Harold wrote Byron, but ii
those dreadful hours of pain and fever
it luattered very little to me. He,
touch was gentle, her voice soft. ant
before l recovered I began to think tn.
plaiE face under that shabby bonner