Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1914-01-28

AL ON-
l tried to push past, but Messy pre-
vented me.
No, indeed. you shan't 60 a step
farther. What will your Aunt Bridget
say? Take the milk back, miss, this
very minute"
Nessy's loud protest brought Betsy
Beauty out Of the dining room, and
IN a moment my cousin, looking more
than ever like a painted doll in her
white muslin dress with a large blue
bow in her yellow hair, had run up
stairs to assist her stepsister.
| was now between the two, the
one above and the other below, and
they laid hold of my bowl to take 1t
from me. They tugged and l resisted,
and there was a struggle in which the
milk was in danger of being spilled
She's a stubborn little thing and
she ought to be whipped" cried
Messy.
She's stealing my milk, and I'll tell
mamma" said Betsy.
Tell her them" l cried, and in a
burst of anger at finding myself I'M
able to recover control of my bowl,
swept 1t around and flung the con-
tents over my cousins head, thereby
drenching her with the frothing milk
and making the staircase to run like
river of whitewash.
Aunt Bridget's Anger.
OF course, there was a fearful
clamor. Betsy Beauty shrieked and
Messy beloved, whereupon Aunt
Bridget came racing from her parlor,
while my mother, white and trem-
bling, halted at the door Of her room.
"Mally, Mally, what have you
done?" cried my mother. but Aunt
Bridget found no need of questions.
After running upstairs to her drip
ping daughter, wiping her down with
a handkerchief, calling her my poor
darling" and saying, Didn't l tel
you to have nothing more to do VITA
that little vixen?" she fell on my
mother with bitter upbraidings.
Isabel, l hope you see now what
your mink of a child is-the spitefu,
furyi"
BY this time 1 had dropped my emp
ty bowl on the stairs and taken ref
uge behind my mothers gown. but l
heard her timid voice trying to ex-
cuse me, and saying something about
my cousin and childish quarrel.
Childish quarrel, indeed" cried my
rnthinO childish ahnlIt
that little imp, nothing. And what g
more, l shall be obliged to you, lisa
bel, If you will never again have the
assurance to speak of my Betsy
Beauty in the same breath with a
child of yours"
That was more than I could bear.
My little heart was afire at the hu-
initiation put upon my mother. 50,
stepping out to the head of the stairs,
| shouted down in my shrillest treble:
Your Betsy Beauty is a wicked
devil, and I wouldn't trust but she'll
burn in hell!"
Never, to the last hour of my life,
shall | forget the effect of that pro-
nouncement. One moment Aunt
Bridget stood speeches. in the MD :
die of the stairs, as if all breath had
been broken out of her. Then, ghast-
Nv WHITE anu WllAOul d WOAut oA =
came flying up at me, and, before l
could recover my usual refuge, she
caught me- slapped me on the cheek
and boxed both my ears.
Must Go to School.
do not remember if I cried, but !
know my mother did, and that in the
midst of the general tumult my father
came out of his room and demanded
in a loud voice, which seemed to
shake the whole house, to be tol
what was going on.
Aunt Bridget told him, with various
embellishments, which my mother did
not attempt to correct, and then,
knowing she was in the wrong, she
began to wipe her eyes with her wet
handkerchief and to say she could
not live any longer where a child was
encouraged to insult her
II have to leave this house, have
to leave it morrow" she said
You don't have TO do no such
thing" cried my father. But I'm just
crazy to see If man can't be cap
tain in his own claim. These chill
dren must go to school, They must
all go-the darned lot of 'em."