The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1908-01-01


Barnard, warm, tired and discour-
aged, sank down on the top step of
the stairway to rest momnet be-
fore attacking the upper rooms. The
view of the lower rooms, even from
this lofty point of view, was discour-
aging. With the rugs up and the
pieces of furniture pulled away from
their accustomed places, the pitiless
sunshine showed clearly every break
In the carpet and every soiled spot
upon the wallpaper.
Whats the use of trying to clean
up, cover up, and pretend any lon
ger?" Mrs. Barnard said, bitterly.
II believe that good things, when
they do begin to show the effects of
long and rough usage, look worse
than cheaper ones; but If they hadn't
been good l don't know what we
would have done, for we've never
been able to replace anything" and
she sighed as she looked at the ex-
pensive furniture, now marred and
scratched, and at the carpets, still
bravely holding to their rich color
ing, although worn almost thread
bare.
Her gaze could not reach the din
ing-room, but she knew that the
beautiful but fragile glass and china
with which she had so proudly start
ed housekeeping had dwindled sad
ly, and the costly linen was patched
and darned in many places. The bed
OF ha ott Af
her broom, were all needing sup
plies.
ITS the old story of flying before
we learned to walk. Here we are,
care-worn and old before our time,
and in such straits that we hardly
know which way to turn, and think
Of the start we had! Our little for
tune was curse instead of bless
ing, for it gave us a taste of life
of ease, then left us to be common
drudges. If John had only known
how to manage, or il he could only
learn to manage now like other men.
We might get even with the world
hope. If had daughter, I'd edu-
cate her so that she might be able
to support herself. and teach her
to let married life alone. What right
has any man to persuade happy,
care-free girl into risking her happi-
ness in his hands!"
The town clock struck 10, and Mrs.
Barnard rose wearily, picked up her
broom, and adjusted the towel that
was wrapped about her head. The
rooms must be put in order before
the MONDAY meal, and many tasks
were waiting yet in the lower part
of the house.
The postman's whistle sounded at
the front door, and she went down
to receive from him two envelopes
each addressed in the same hand.
writing. One was a wedding invi.
tation, and the other a letter.
why, it's from Una, my little
Una!" exclaimed Mrs. Barnard, a.
she read:
Dear Aunt Una-I am not writins
letters to send with all my invita-
tions, Sbut l wanted to write to you
to tell you that you must come tt
my wedding. 1t would not be com
plete without you. You know m!
first experience in church wedding
was when l was flower girl at you
wedding, and have never attended
one since that was half so pretty
nor have / ever been SO much i'm
pressed by any other ceremony as
was by that, young as / was. / wan
my wedding to be Just as nearl
like yours as it can be, and oh, Aun
Una, the strangest part of it is,
am to marry John, too. You vii
remember John Nelson. He wa
such great, gawky boy, and
never dreamed that / would eve
marry any one / had always knowI
but when you see him you'll say he
a perfect dear. OF course you wi
not think him half as handsome a
your John, and know / shall not b
half SO lovely bride as you wer,
but we're very much in love, and S
happy! 1t will spoil all my pleasur,
though, If you fail to come. / war
you SO mucn.
'Your Little Una"
why, she's only child" Mr.
Barnard said, as she folded the lie
ter. Then as she thought of the fl
teen years that had flown since h,
little namesake had been flower-gi
at her wedding, she realized that Il
second Una would be an older brio
than she he'd been.
The letters had miscafried." ar
had been on the road for some day
The wedding was to take place {
Wednesday evening of the next wee
and this was Friday How 81
would have to hurry to- get rea,