Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-09-26
Evening Story
FATHERS SCALES.
BY }. r. Greenleaf.
Copyright. 1912, by the Associated
Literary Press.)

lover as they were pacing the broa
piazza of the Weston home in til
April dusk.
"Yes and no." answered the youn
man. HE said: When I'm in DANCE
of going to Jail on account Of m
sharp practices or some woman rope
me into marrying her, you may hay
Brownie"
That's father all over,' she laugh
ed. How he does enjoy war {
wits, especially with you! Let
think about it, for don't believe it.
a wholly idle speech. Tell me some
thing else that has happened toda
with you
Absolutely gray blank in ever
respect. We've been hauling potatoe
to the car for him to ship-but yes
interesting. Widow Atkins brough
two bushels of the tubers, and when
weighed the outfit back again it fel
short sixty pounds, showing ont
bushel only"
That's queer" the girl flashed
what did you do?"
Registered it for two bushels ant
gave her a credit slip accordingly
'Then his scales are wrong,
Brownie cried.
IF they are, he doesn't know it
He's the most obstinate, cantankerous
old"
"Sh-sh-" the girl ordered, laying
q slim, brown hand over the farmers
mouth, you mustn't speak in that
derogatory way of your future father.
in.law!"
''A-a-lnighty long way in the fu-
ture," sputtered Paul, getting the OBJ
struction to free speech in his hand
as he went on; but even then he's
honest and square"
him better than you do, and there's
more in it than shows" she pursued.
Tomorrow, every load you bring to
him, you weigh at home and then
weigh back the crates on your own
scales and tell me about it when you
come over in the evening"
That's silly, darling" Paul de-
clared. IF there Is an inaccuracy he
doesn't know it, and If it should turn
out that he does, you and I couldn't
catch him. l know there isn't He's
honest"
"You mind me, Paulsie,' the daugh-
ter of Hiram Weston ordered, for
there's something doing, I know" This
reminder of something that stopped
the young mans mouth.
The following morning a solid bit of
Hannah Arbuthnot, queenly
even in her dark blue calico dress,
sad to Brownie:
Whats the matter with my baby?'
Nothing new, dearie," replied the
girl. "Just the old story-father won't
let me marry Paul. He keeps jolly
ing US along. You know what dear,
trying mischievous old angel he isl"
What's he done 'now?" asked the
housekeeper, hitching her portly self
up on the broad kitchen table and
Brownie in her strong arms.
A few words told the latest develop
nents and then Hannah soliloquized:
He said that, did he? You leave
lin to me. Well see what your old
Maid foster-mother can do for her
,aby. He wanted to marry me once,
,ou know"
When Weston drove in, tired, wet
md muddy, that evening, Hannah
taught lantern and slipped out to
he barn, saying as she closed the
loor:
You give his supper, little girl"
Toward the end of the satisfying
neal, Weston remarked with his eyes
aking in the beauty of the girl:
"You remind me so much of your
mother, Brownie!'
That's great compliment, father,
or they say she was a handsome
"she certainly was" he agreed;
but what's Hannah up to, taking !!
are of old Kitty for me and all? She
asn't heard of my proposition to that
low, good, boy lover of yours, has
he?"
What would she try to do if she
ADJ"
She might think I'd ask her to
larry me, especially if you two got |
our heads togther to beat an old
1an," he chuckled.
A light step on the porch took the
irl to the door, and Paul was ushered
ito the parlor.
well, what about the weights?"
sked the little lady at once.
Each load was about sixty pounds
hort; but he don't know it, I'm sure"
as the report.
"All right" she responded, with her
yes dancing with mischief. "Ill call
i'm in and you tell him.
81? I? Tell your father! I'd
ather face a locomotives" he ex-
aimed.
But don't you think he ought to
now it?''
"Why-yes. He certainly" he
as she called out through
le open door into the dining room:
Father, Paul and l don't agree
bout matter and we want your ad-
ce Hannah, you better come, tool"
what is it all about?' Weston ask
!, going directly to Paul, who was as
hite as marble, lips and hands in a
emor. AS the reply was slow in COM
g, there was a second demand: Out
it'll it,"
"You-your-scales, Mr.. Weston,
e wrong, but l don't" i
my scales wrong?' the older man {
lrst out. why you young-you {
right in my own house
T-I-thought you ought to know