The Sisseton weekly standard. (Sisseton, Roberts County, S.D.) 1892-1929, 1907-08-23
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BARBARA'S
PRAYER.
By ANNIE HAMILTON D0NNEl-

"Barb'ry! Barb'ry BigeloW!"
But Barbara kept on rigidly. She
did not want to see old Uncle Zach
airy; she did not want to hear what
he had to say.
II know. It's a BARREL" she thought,
as she hurried along. "If I turn
'round-if he knows l hear him-hell
say, 'Thar's a bar'l down to the
Crossin' for the parson, Barb'ry.' I'm
not going to turn round for him to
say that to me-! If he or anybody else
brings it up 1 can't help it, but l can
help turning round, can't II"
The girls heart was bitter-bitter-
bitter. And the d%esolation of the
great. fiat prairie, seal in it's fall dress,
entered into her heart and "roomed"
with the bitterness. Barbara Bigelow
loved greenness and hills and pleasant
things. She hated with all her indie
pendent, proud young soul-barrels.
1t was barrel time. OF course that
was what Uncle Zachary was calling
her for. He vas plodding his bent old
way up from the little Crossing sta
tion-he had seen the barrel. Every
body would see it-would know.
That Everybody" at Lonesome
Prairie was only Uncle Zachary and
the Tilt Tobeys and the Philoon
Moodys and a few others, did not
make Barbara's musings any less bit
ter. All Lonesome Prairie would
know. anyway. And that wasn't the
worst Of it-she would know!
Daddy - poor Daddy-and the
Mother are getting accustomed to
'em"-she mean barrels-"but not L
no. no, no! l shall never get accus-
toned, If I live to be a hundred! I
shall always hate the sight of a barrel
till them"
Six years they had been out on this
desolate prairie; the Little Parson had
been a baby when they came, and now
he was a boy in pockets and a whis-
tie. All those years the Mother had
dressed him in barrel clothes. If they
were too big she took them in; If they
were too small she stretched them.
The barrel shoes sometimes pinched
his toes.
Most Of Daddy's-poor Daddy's-
clothes were barrel clothes. Most of
the Mother's-most of Barbara's and
the Twins. You could tell barrel
clothes the minute you set eyes on
them, by their occasional fancy
streaks and their creases and their
general air of having been worn out
before they got into the barrel.
Every year about this time one had
come-one year two came. Every
year Barbara had been getting more
bitter. The horrible sensation of be-
ing-of being secondhand, from Daddy
down to the Little Parson. hurt her
to the quick.
The people-those people far away
where there were hills and
and pleasant things-were kind, Dad
dy said. They were thoughtful, the
Mother insisted in her gentle fashion,
because there were little clothes and
middle-aged clothes and grown-up
clothes in the barrels. But bitter, bit
ter Barbara hated these people. They
were not thoughtful. they were not
kind! They Inundated other people
who lived in untitled, ungreen, un-
pleasant places. just because they did
live there and were poor and preached
In Lonesome Prairies.
This year, with the patient Mother
and patient little Rebec' both sick,
things were badly off at the prairie
parsonage. In her soul Barbara knew
that they needed that barrel. The Lit
tie Parson needed more fady, too big
or too little trousers. and Daddy need
ed more coats. All four of the women.
people needed most everything.
And Barbara knew in her soul that
the Mother and Daddy were watching
for 1t.
ITO think they should want it," she
famed, indignantly. ITO think they
should be willing for it! Oh, I'd rather
go barefooted. in the snow and wear
m~eal-bags!"
But would she rather have the
Mother and the Twins and the Little
Parson and Daddy-poor Daddy?
1t turned cold-bitter cold-that
night. A pitiless wind swept the
prairie. unhindered by hill or forest.
In the parson-man's home it was hard
to keep warm. Barbara put her own
thin feather bed over the Twins and
took all the available quilts into the
sick chamber. She heated bricks and
stove-lids for everybody, padding lit
tie Rebec's with Careful pains. Then
she got her work and sat down with it
on Mothers side of the bed.
"Oh," sighed Mother, softly, have
his everyday me given out, too?"
For it was the Little Parsons every-
day trousers Barbara was patching,
The patches were Of a different shade.
and babe fair to stand out boldly and
conspicuously. The Little Parson was
proud-poor Little Parson!
HE prayed for a barrel o. q ones
tonight" Mother smiled with wistful
tenderness. "''Thout any patches on
You would have cried to hear him.
Barby. He was so dear. If you'd
'zactly as lives. dear Lord, cause they
call me Patches hind my back where
the Matches are. Y0u know how, Nal