The Sauk Centre herald., 1908-05-07
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BARBARA'S
PRAYER.
D. ANNE HAMILTON DosugEu.


BarDry. Bar0 ~ B1gelOw!
But Barbara kept on rgidly. She
did nsst want to see old Uncle Zach
| ary; she did not want to hear what
he had to say.
Il know. It's barrel" she thought,
as she hurried along IF L turn
| 'round-if he knows / hear him-he II
say, 'Thar's bar1 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 / can't help it, but | can
help turning round, can't II"
The girls heart was bitter-bitter-
bitter. And the desolation of the
great, fat prairie. scar in its fan dress.
entered into her heart and -roomed
| with the bitterness. Barbara Bigelow
loved greenness and hills and pleasant
things. She hated with all her inde-
pendent. proud young soul-barrels.
1t was barrel time OF course that
was what Uncle Zachary was calling
her for. He was plodding his bent old
way up from the little Crossing sta
tioa--he had seen the barrel. Every
body would see it-vould 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 meant barrels-"but not L
no, no, no! / shall never get accus-
toned, If l live to be hundred! !
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 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
litter. 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 greenness
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 humiliated other people
who lived in unhilled, ungreen, un.
pleasant places. just because they did
live there and were poor and preached
in Lonesome Prairies.
This year, with the patient Mother
things were badly OF 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 it,
ITO think they should want it," she
famed, Indignantly. TO think they
should be willing for it! Oh I'd rather
60 barefooted in the snow and wear
mealbags!"
But would she rather have the
Mother and the Twins and the Little
Parson and Daddy-poor Daddy.
1t turned cold-bitter cold-tha,
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 OWE
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 il
on Mothers side of the bed
'Oh." sighed Mother, softly, have
his everyday ones given out, too?'
For it was the Little Parsons every.
day trousers Barbara was patching.
The patches were of different shade,
and bade fair to stand out boldly and
conspicuously. The Little Parson was
proud-poor Little Parson!
He prayed for barrel o. new 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 patches are. You know how hard
it is, dear Lord. to be called Patches.
And He does, Barby; know He does!
/ think He will send that barrel
'Tu make over my old cloak into