Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1908-09-22
CHAPTER XIV

ST1AGl Ell Nv
This amt no bloomin' catch, can
tell yer. amt wot yer'd cal an ard
| earted woman, but l amt no pbillern-
thruppist, and don't yer forgit It,"
4 The speaker, a stout, untidy woman
OF forty-fve, folded her thick arms
and glared defiantly.
Il am so sorry, Mrs Burton" Laura
4 Vane replied gently, "but will GER
tainly let you have something on &C.
count this week"
4 I've card that tale BEFORE said
Mrs. Burton unsympathetically, "ard
you ,aYing the best bedroom and all,
and the use of this ere sitting room,
which, tho l seq it meself there amt
a finer apartment in Widely street, nor
s1ch furnitoor, nor SIGH pictures, nor
such view out Of the window"
Laura glanced at the hldeous oil
painting of the deceased Mr.. Burton,
/ almost life size, and inexpressibly
brlllian in colouring. and then turned
her weary eyes to the window. The
outlook was not cheerful, but it was
a relief to the sight after the glare
of Mr.. Blurton's pink flesh A patch
/ of bare earth, roadlike in colour and
quality, stretched for few feet to
a dingy brick wall. Beyond that lay
a hundred yards of naked meadow,
strewn with every conceivable spec
linen of battered iron and broken
crockery. Beyond that again stretch
OF brown mud, and then the broad
/ line of the River Thames, grey and
sullen in the light of December after
/ noon.
Laura's eyes rested gratefully on the
red sails of a barge the one beautiful
thing in a wilderness of ugliness.
1T is indeed charming room" she
replied with faint smile, land it is
very good of you to let me use it,
Mrs. Burton.
And it'd be very good of yer to
pay me now and then, Mrs. Dandy"
the woman replied, minicking Laura's
voice, Gust as matter O. form like"
81 do all can" the girl said in
low voice. 81 work hard all day. But
they don't pay much for making
blouses. l just get enough for food
and the baby-he is i'll; I can't leave
him.
Laura's voice quavered, and she
looked away from Mrs. Burton to
hide her tears.
yer shouldn't have babies if yer
can't afford to keep 'em," Mrs. Blur
ton said roughly. II amt 'ad but one,
and my husband was man of persi-
ton. He could earn is thirty-five
shillin, week, e could-ay, and
drink twenty-five of it 'imself-like
lord"
Laura did not answer, and her
silence seemed to infuriate the war
like Mrs. Burton. Perhaps the lat
ter expected some envious reference
to the wage-earning powers of her
deceased husband.
"Well-spoken girls like you" con
! tinued the memorable Mrs. Burton,
cave friends VIII money, unless they're
ashamed to go to 'em. I may be a
common woman, but LIN an honest
woman, and l amt ever done anything
as I'd want to 'ide from my friends"
Mrs. Blurton's broad, moonlike face
glowed with pride and indignation
Laura rose sharply to her feet with
hot cheeks and flashing eyes,
How dare you?" she cried. "How
dare you speak to me like that? II
will leave here at once-now, to-
night"
Mrs. Burton betrayed no anger at
this sudden outburst. On the con-
trary, she seemed rather pleased that
she had at last been able to produce
some effect with her bitter tongue.
ooh, yer'd leave, would yer" she
said in pacif1ed tone, "and where'd
get my money, and where's yer go,
and what'd 'appen to the inherent
child, as amt done no arm to me
nor nobody else?"
There's the workhouse," cried
Laura vehemently; 81 shall at least be
free from insult. can go there to-
night and the child
She paused with look of fear. Her
brief show of spirit died away as she
thought of the child, barely two
months old. With a cry of anguish
she flung herself down on chair, and
burying her face in her arms, wept
bitterly
A softer look came into Mrs. Blur
tons face as she watched the effect
of her insults. She was not a bad
woman at heart, and remarks that
might be accounted brutal in higher
walk Of life were everyday pleas
antries in Widely street She moved
forward ponderously, and laid one
huge hand on Lauras arm.
There, there, my girl she exclaim.
ed roughly, don't take on so. Yer'd
better stay ERE. I've cut bit rough
about the money, for I wants it cruel
bad; my own life aint all lavender.
that it aint. Your son 'aint been in
Jail, ave e? He 'aint broke is rnuv-
ver's cart yet, as e? No, bless i'm;
and yer lucky woman for that. MY
own lad-there, there. We all ave
our troubles, and yer'l pay me this
week, won't yer? for wants it cruel
bad, do
(To be Continued.)