Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1907-11-14

family. with one exception, were liter
airy. This exception was Dorothy. Mr..
Winters was editor-in-chief of n of
the large city papers, Clarence was re-
porter for another. sister Mary was a
schoolteaeher, and sister Lucia wrote
for the magazines. As for Mrs. Win
tiers, she was president of the Brown
ing club, secretary of the Woman's
club, and an active member OF a vari-
ETY. of other clubs too numerous to
mention.
1t would seem rather strange that in
a family so STEPPED in the atmosphere
of books and newspapers there should
be one black sheep; although to call
Dorothy a black sheep were certainly
a libel, for if there ever was a white,
sweet, dearly loved lamb in any flock,
she could lay claim to that distinction.
The term is only used to convey the
idea that she was different from the
Others, While they were all studious,
thoughtful and serious in their tastes,
she was the gayest, most careless and,
so they all declared, the most frivolous
little body in existence. Everyone
loved pretty Dolly. She was so sweet
natured, so generous, so full of vitality
and sprightliness, that it was impossi-
bic to do otherwise.
1t never happened that anyone e
questioned the domestic talents and
inclinations of Dorothy. 1t had been
settled when she was quite a small
child that Nature had intended her
for a little housewife. She could make
the most delicious desserts and the
most toothsome confectionery; she
had such beautiful taste in arranging
the dining-room table and kept the
house so fresh and orderly that no one
eve suspected that she abhorred the
dishpan, hated to make beds, or was
made faint and sick by the sight of
raw meat when she went to market
to select her fathers favorite cuts.
Dolly never said anything about it.
Naturally, no one could be supposed to
know.
Now, it frequently happens that the
careers laid out for us by our friends
are not always the ones we should
select if left to ourselves. This was
the case with Dorothy. Secretly she
longed to be literary, like the rest,
instead of domestic, She did try to
write sometimes, just as the others
did, and worked hard over some eX-
tremcly Indifferent little stories which
were destined to travel many weary
miles between herself and various pub
fishers.
Dorothy knew well enough that her
writing was very poor, and soon
ceased to hope to distinguish her.
self in this way. AS a matter of fact,
she did not like to write at all, and
only did so because she hated to be
a drone in this literary beehive. 1t
was simply a bore to her, and she
spent much of her time making
sketches on the margin of her paper,
as Tommy Traddles did in David Cop
perfield; only instead of drawing skel-
etons, she made curious brownies and
grotesque animals that it certainly
would have been no sin to worship,
for they were like nothing on earth or
in the waters beneath the earth. The
family called them Dorothy's queer
cows"
At last she despaired altogether,
and when the rejected manuscripts
had all come back she tumbled them
in a heap into a drawer, which she
never opened without a very down-in-
the mouth sort of feeling. 1t is to be
feared that Just the least little bit
of a grain of bitterness was in Doro-
thy's heart when she thought Of the
position Of the household director to
which she had been so summarily rele-
gated by her affectionate friends. Still
the old longing to do something kept
pulling away at her, and when she
began to beg to be allowed to take
drawing lessons at the Art Institute,
her mother said:
Why not let her do it? The dear
girl has a good many lonesome hours
when we are all away or busy, even
If she is so domestic. Looking after
the house doesn't take all her time
why of course" said MIR. Winters
eff there's anything in the world that
l can do to give Dorothy a pleasure
I'm only too glad"
"Oh, certainly" said sister Lucia.
"1t will give her something to think
of, even if she doesn't accomplish
much with it."
And SO Dorothy was entered in one
of the classes of the Art Institute
and then the family, absorbed in its
own more important affairs, at n
proceeded to forget all about it. No
body ever thought to inquire about he,
work except Mr.. Winters, to whom il
occurred once in awhile in a vague
fashion.
And how are the queer COWS
daughter" he would ask, pinching he
soft, round cheek.
"Oh. they're just as bad as ever
Dorothy would say with an werin,
smile. They pop out on the cast,
and still life exactly as they dic
on the manuscript" She was a bray.
little soul. and If she felt hurt b,
this indulgent neglect she kept it Il
herself.
When she had been in the Art Inst
tutc for about a year without havinI
ever seemed to accomplish anythini
to attract attention in the least, MI
Winters began to talk very muc
about a new artist who had of lat
been sending in drawings as illustrs
tons of current events. They wer