The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1907-07-12

OSCps D. bOWloS.)
fore We come in an it hurt like sin.
Cues I'm in fer a siege of it,"
Amt heard EN- talkin' on tn poor
farm yet, have We, Obed?" joked Mr..
Currier.
Almost" the other grinned. "S'pose
veil soon have an addition over there
in tn Binger baby, won't ye"
enjoyed his frown as Mr.. Currier
replied: "Baby's been adopted
Then he won't go?" was the dis
pirited query.
Wal. not fer another week. modi-
fled my host. Il should have said he
was only temporary adopted. Coin
a week from next Monday"
MI. Splodgett frightened %perceptibly
on being assured the baby's lease on
responsibility was not permanent, and
he chuckled at my hosts short lived
triumph and said: I'VE told me that
before. That's nothin'. TIL fact re-
mains. he's got ter go. Wal, it'll be a
good trainin' an a lesson ter him."
1t was a relief to be at school on
the Monday Mr.. Currier went after the
child to take it to the poor form. l
did not care to see him when he
passed through the district, and there
fore. when I came home to dinner and
learned he had not arrived, but was
expected every minute, l tried to
hurry through the meal and evade
him. Just as | had refused pie, much
to Sis amazement, and was leaving
the table, a wagon drove into the yard
and Mrs. Currier announced: Here's
Meth with tn baby"
But it was not her husband; it was
the optimistic Mr.. Splodgett, half re-
Ginning on an improvised couch, while
his sister, a grim, wooden faced wOm-
an, very deaf and seldom known to
speak. held the reins.
Meth here?" he inquired. II can't
come in. Had all l could do ter git
inter tn wagon. If tn fish peddler
hadn't come along an gimme 4 boost
I'd still be ter home, l guess. Most
leg frets me-"
Mrs. Currier had hardly explained
her husbands absence when another
wagon whirled into the yard and my
heart sank as | saw the small bundle
my host was so carefully holding in
the hollow of his left arm. l had
hoped the baby had found a perma-
nent home with. his foster mother of
the week. Mr.. Curriers' face looked
very sour as he tossed the lines to
ST and said: Hang this bein' s'lect-
! man an cartin' babies ter tn poor
house! I don't mind a growed-up
pauper, cause they are usually shift
less an jest as lief be there as any
where. But this little cuss amt done
nothin' ter desarve it. Anyway, wen
give him one more Independent din
ner before he ter takin' town
charity. Hello, Obed. No use ter
speak ter yer sister. Hitch, an
come in"
"Lem'me see him, Meth. l can't git
down, We know" said Mr.. Splodgett,
his face now rejecting only pleasure.
"Ye might wait till We git we'll an
call on him at tn poor farm" replied
my host, grimly, yet resting one foot
on the hub of the wheel and holding
up the growing infant in his arms.
The wind blew back a corner of the
, blanket so that the little face peeped
out and Mr.. Splodgett's countenance
grew solemn.
He gingerly picked up n kicking,
worsted covered foot between his
rough thumb and finger and eyed it in
deep surprise. "Lem'me heft him. he
asked.
The baby did not mind the transfer
and lost no time in clutching n fat,
dimpled hand in the grisly whiskers
that tickled his chin.
Smells like new milk" remarked
Mr.. Splodgett apologetically with a
red face as ne raised his head. But
I could swear he kissed the little
cheek.
His sisters inexpensive face stole
a bit of animation as she snatched
the tiny form from his awkward laI
and gently patted the brown hair and
rearranged the blanket with deft fin
gers. Then she asked in her usual
monotonous voice, Shall we go back
now, Obed?"
Hold on" cried Mr.. Currier, al
Obed nodded and the wagon began tc
turn. we've forgot tn baby"
mo, we amt" grinned Obed sheep
ishly. We've got him. We're goin'
ter take him home. I'D planned on il
right along. Only l didn't wante1
come between him an this experience
When he's older he'll enjoy thinkin'
it over. Better pull tn blanket ovel
him more, Lurinda, or else lem'me
hold him. Gee lang, there"
And that night nature was gladde,
and the woods and hills more desirable
for Obed's having lived, and I could
look through the years and see a
quaint old man in No. 6 no. longe,
Drawing transforms, but being ruled by
the iron hand of a youngster.
Unjust Suspicious.