Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-07-25


hear the girl! Sight of a big. rich
house indeed. will there be any boys
at the party"
II s'pose so or 'twouldn't be frolic."
said Patty, with awful daring, but
there won't be many-only a few of
Marks friends"
well. there amt goin' to be no more
argyfyin'! I won't have any girl o.
mine frolickin' with boys, so that's the
end of 1t. You're kind o. crazy lately,
riggin' yourself out with a ribbon here
and flower there and pullin' your hair
down over your ears. Why do you
want to cover your ears up? What are
they forT'
ITO hear you with, father" Patty
replied, with honey sweet voice and
eyes that blazed.
"Well, hope they'll never hear any
thing worse" replied her father, fling
ing a bucket of water over the last of
the wagon wheels.
"They couEdn'tT' These words were
never spoken aloud; but. oh. how Patty
longed to shout them with a clarion
voice as she walked away in perfect
silence her majestic gait showing, she
hoped, how she resented the outcome of
the interview.
I've stood up to father" she ex-
claimed triumphantly as she entered
the kitchen and set down her yellow
bowl of eggs on the table II stood
up to him and answered him back
three times.'
Waitstill was busy with her Satur-
day morning cooking, but she turned
in alarm.
Patty. what have you said and
done? Tell me quickly
II 'argyied,' but it didn't do any
good. He won't let me go to Ellen's
party"
Waitstill wiped her foury hands and
put them on her sisters shoulders.
Hear what say, Patty: You must
not argue with father, whatever he
says. We don't love him and so there
isn't the right respect In our hearts,
but at least there can be respect in our
manners"
Il don't believe can go on for years
holding in, Waitstill." Patty whimp-
cred.
Yes, you can. I haver'
You're different, Waitstill."
II wasn't so different at sixteen. but
that's five years ago, and I've got con-
troll of my tongue and my temper since
then. Sometime, perhaps, when 1 have
Il grievance too great to be rightly
borne, sometime when you are away
from here in a home of your own, l
shall speak out to father; just empty
my heart of all the disappointment
and bitterness and rebellion. Some
body ought to tell him the truth and
perhaps it will be mer
Waitstill bent over the girl as she
flung herself down beside the table
and smoothed her shoulder gently.
There, there, dear! 1t isn't like my
gay little sister to cry. What is the
matter with you today, Patty %
Il suppose it's the spring. she said,
wiping her eyes with her apron and
smiling through her tears. Perhaps
/ need dose of sulphur and molasseS."
Don't you feel well as common
We'll? 1 feel too well. l feel as If
1 was a young colt shut up in an at
tic. I want to kick up my heels, bat
ter the door down and get out into the
pasture. It's no use talking, Waity.
I can't go on living without a bit of
pleasure and 1 can't go on being pa
tent even for your sake. If it weren't
for you I'd run away as Job did, and
I never believed Moses slipped on the
logs. I'm sure he threw himself into
the river. and so should l if had the
courage
stop, Patty, stop, dear. You will
have your bit of pasture at least I'll
do some of your indoor tasks for you,
-l,ary al
and go out and dig the dandelion
green's for dinner. Take the broken
knife and a milk pan, and don't bring
in so much earth with them as you did
last time. Dry your eyes and look at
the green things growing. Remember
how young you are and how many
years are ahead of you. Go along, |
dear
WaitstilI went about her work with |
rather a heavy heart. Was life going |
to be more rather than less difficult |
now that Patty was growing up? !
Would she be able to do her duty both |
by father and sister and keep peace in |
the household, as she had vowed in |
her secret heart always to do? She |
paused every now and then to look |
out of the window and wave an en-
couraging hand to Patty. The girls |
bonnet was off, and her uncovered |
head blazed like red gold in the sun
light. The short young grass was dot
ted with dandelion blooms, some of
them already grown to huge disks of
yellow, and Patty moved hither and
thither, selecting the younger weeds,
deftly putting the broken knife under
their roots and popping them into the
tin pan. Presently-for Deacon Baxter
had finished the wagon and gone down
the hill to relieve Cephas Cole at the
shrill young whistle
floated into the kitchen, but with
glance at the open win
dow she broke off suddenly and began
TO sing the words of the hymn with
rather more emphasis and gusto than
strict piety warranted;
There'n be something In heaven for chill
Il