Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1911-07-27
The Truth
About MaiSie
She Proved That Sometimes
the End Jusd6es the
Means
By AGNES G. BROGAN
Copyright by American Press Asso-
citation, 1911.


way in a very unclerical manner,
while the sweet faced old lady who sat
near by folded letter which she had
been reading aloud.
We'll David" she asked, what
shall we do about it,"
There is just one thing to be done,
of course" her son answered promptly;
1--WE must send for my brothers child
and ask her to make this her home
The old lady readjusted her specta
cles and referred again to the letter.
Richard was ambitious to be a great
artist" she said slowly, ''and | can
picture the lifelong struggle which
ended only in defeat. But at the last
he remembered his mother
"'Take care of my little girl he
writes She is an irresponsible,
thoughtless creature, sound and good
at heart. Watch over her, l entreat
you, and use your influence, if posi-
BILE, in persuading her to leave the
stage. A letter addressed to her prop
err name, Miss NJ. E. Randolph, Gold
en- Butterfly company, New York" will
be forwarded wherever she may be-
And so it happened that Miss Ran
Golph, sitting in her dressing room at
the theater a few days later, was hand
ed a letter, and her large dark eyes
grew wider and brighter still as she
read this kindly invitation to become
member of the parsonage household.
your grandmother and l will do all
in our power to make you happy the
note read, and the girl smiled at the
uperscription-"Da Paul Randolph,
pastor of Trinity church, Eastville,
n. Y"
She leaned forward and made little
face in the glass; then turned to get
better view Of the golden wings sus-
pended from her shoulders. My dear
uncle minister" she cOnfded to her
charming reflection, Il don't really be-
lieve you could make me happy-in
Eastville."
kilograms in Eastville were usually
associated with death or disaster, so
when David Randolph received vel
low envelope his mother waited in
suspense as he read the brief message.
what is it?" she asked impatiently,
while his puzzled expression changed
to one of amusement.
THE Golden Butterflies have arrived
in New York." he answered dryly, land
I am to meet 'Maisie' at Eastville sta
ton at o o'clock tonight"
"Maisie," the old lady repeated
dOubtfully.
Rain came pelting against the study
windows, and the wind, screeching
down the garden path, threw wide the
door. A girl stood there in the aper-
ture, wearing fur trimmed scarlet
she tilted back her head in order to
glance from beneath the huge brim of
a plume decked hat.
"You did not hear me knock" she
announced. "Im Maisie."
The young pastor came forward
quickly. "Your telegram has just
reached u.s. he explained. Il ex-
pected to meet you On the 8 o'clock
train"
Maisie laughed. II intended to leave
New York later" she said. when
you know me better you will learn that
the unexpected usually happens where
/ am concerned"
With sudden impulse the elder wo-
man took the other, scarlet cloak and
all, into her embrace.
Granddaughter, don't 60 back to
that life" she said. "Stay and take
your fathers place in our home"
The girl drew in her breath sharply.
II will stay as long as you wish" she
replied, 'if you will like lie for my
own sake"
SO the Golden Butterflies packed up
and left New York, while Maisie re-
NAMED at the quiet parsonage The
hitherto silent house now rang with
her gay songs and laughter, and the
creases and lines which dull care"
had traced upon the tired pastors
face vanished Maisie laid aside the
scarlet cloak and monstrous hat at his
bidding, and with sigh Of regret fold
ed away the orange silk which had
caused such a tumult Of criticism
among his congregation. She even
endeavored to smooth back the riotous
curls which had been her pride and
appeared at church one day with neat
" banded hair and attired in a gray
gown of severe simplicity. 1t was
pleasant to remember, as the pastor
went about his duties, that Maisie
would be there to welcome him when
he returned, and he would hasten his
steps in anticipation. 1t was pleasant
also for the old lady to sit resting in
the twilight as Maisie sang the half
forgotten songs-ending up. perhaps,
with a very modern burst of ragtime.
But gradually a cloud appeared upon
this happy horizon; the girl herself
grew restless and dissatisfied; she
spent afternoons in the city. returning
at evening silent and depressed.
do you think" the young minister
asked haltingly. that it is the old life
calling her back?"
nathan haSifofn1 poox,oo,of