Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1907-09-04
BE-. instead of keepin' tnmad folks all

The forecaster shifted scornfully. 81
should think 1 was dom my part if
1 came within eight days of it, he
declared, although maybe 1 can mar
row it down day or two by and
by"
"The best thing you can do is to
say nothing about it." Mrs. Bently
advised, tartly. "More's likely it'll
turn out like that KILN frost you
predicted the twentieth day of last
June"
At this open skepticism her husband
bristled. "Well, there was a frost
that night out in Illinois, anyway"
he said in self-defense.
"And maybe that's where your tor
nado's goin' to be-" snapped his spouse
as she gathered up her socks and went
upstairs, to be followed presently by
her husband, bearing in his arms his
pile Of treasured almanacs.
Its all right, mother" he declared
jubilantly the next morning, as he
stood warming his hands at the kit
chen fire, while Mrs. Bently hustled
about, preparing breakfast. "That
tornado that's comm amt goin' to
interfere with your plans a mite. /
had a dream last night. Seemed as ii
1 was sittin' here in the kitchen, and
blacklist clouds in the west that l
ever saw. And when they got up over
head-criclzy, how it begun to blow!
The limbs came off the elms as If
they were Topped and the lilac bushes
were blowed fiat, and one end of the
shed was stove in. Seemed as if I
was readin' a newspaper, an look
ed at the headin' to see just what day
of the month it was, an 1 saw it was
the tenth. Then looked at my watch
an noticed it was just three, though
somehow the kitchen clock was strik-
in six. So now, you see, I've got it
all slaughtered out. That tornado is
due here on the tenth, some time be-
tween three an six"
We'll, it might just as we'll come
then as any Time" said Mrs. Bently,
with a grim smile. ''I hain't heard tell
of any goin's-on round the tenth, so
1 guess 'twon't put nobody out much"
You get my breakfast soon's you
can, will you?'' he urged. 81 want to
get to writin' what I'm goin' to send
in to the papers, so 1 can go up to
the post-ofice in time for the after
noon mail"
Mrs. Bently, who was bending over
- fcly nP -hrnUnn6
cults out of the oven, looked up sharp
ly. 81 thought you an Jim were goin'
to pillow the lower lot this mornin',"
she said
Her husband coughed uneasily. IL
was intendin' to-" he admitted, 'but
l guess now, so long as 1 know exact
when this tornado's comm, ought to
write the papers about it. When a
man can see the future, as l can, he
owes somethin' to his fellow men,
'No doubt" was Mrs. Bently's acid
retort.
Breakfast over, he betook himself
to the desk in the front room, and
from an old tin box he drew out
number of yellowed newspaper clip
pings. They all began in the same
manner:
Uncle Harrison Bently of South
Bedford, who predicted the great
March blizzard of 'SS, and who has
not failed to give a correct forecast of
the winters for the past twenty years,
now comes to the front with the an
ond
He read them over one after anoth-
er, drawing from them, apparently,
the necessary inspiration, for he
caught UP a pen, and with his spec
tacles pulled low on his nose and his
tongue pressing out one cheek, he be-
gan to write laboriously in heavy,
sprawling hand. The morning waxed;
the pen scratched on sturdily. Absorb
ed in his selfimposed task, he gave no
heed to the loud tapping on the back
door and the sound of voices in the
kitchen which followed.
Noon was approaching, and the work
of transferring his dire forecast to
paper was nearing completion, when
the door from the kitchen was pushed
open and Mrs. Bently entered the
room, to sink heavily into a chair near
the desk.
Il wouldn't write any more on that,
if 1 were you," she said, with finality.
Harrison blotted his last line and
looked at her over the top of his spec
tacles with a scowl "Tve got it most
done, anyway" said he. Whats the
trouble? Dinner ready?"
mo, faint dinner said his wife.
annie Evans has been over to invite
you and me 10 her weddin' She's to
be married the tenth!"
The prophet squirmed uneasily in
his chair. In silence he studied his
wife's face. Mrs. Bently met his gaze
unfinchingly.
Now look here, mother, you needt
go asl1in' me to put it off again." he
asserted.
81 don't see but what you'll have
to-" said she. / should be ashamed,
if 1 were you, to go spoilin' Annie's