The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1915-05-06
The BABY
BY OLIVE BARTON.
Copyright. 1914. by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate)

Sne KNOW or DaDy 1000, or mendlne
holes in Johnnie's stockings as big as
buckwheat cakes? How did she know
how many days Fossie should wear
the same petticoat?
The whole three were in bed now
and the great singer relaxed luxu
riously. She knew no one in the
town, so there was little danger oi
callers.
Her thoughts were as busy as the
fingers of the little maid of all work
now doing dishes audibly in the
kitchen. She was thinking how ode
it was for her to be there at all.
A telegram had been responsible
Sister Jane and her husband. William
had been called away by trouble in
Williams family. There had been nc
one else to ask to look after the chill
dren She had never even seen the
baby!
Steps suddenly sounded on the
little front porch like so many bangs
on bass drum. Tillie, out in the
kitchen, heard and was at the dool
before her temporary mistress coult
stop her.
rs this where Miss Farrell is stay
ing?" asked mans voice.
"Joe!" exclaimed Miss Farrell i'm
patiently. "Will he never learn tina,
there isn't bit of use in chasing
after me, wherever I go?"
Joe stamped off the snow noisily
and came inside. He came In big
glowing and clumsy. The little room
seemed full before he got farther thar
the doorway. Peggy; In her chair be
fore the fire, half turned-just enough
for him to see the top-loftical express
sion.
"Peggy!" he exclaimed delightedly
coming forward.
Good evening, Joe," evenly. "Yor
chose a nice night to come so far
Won't you sit DOWN."
Joe sat down on the other side OF
the fireplace. "You look awfully
sweet, Peggy. Aren't you glad to sec
me?"
mo" deliberately.
T-I wouldn't have come-only
thought of something after-aftel
we'd been talking the other night"
She didn't answer.
"You see," shifting upeasily, "if YOU
would marry me, you could go ahead
with your singing just the same as
ever. You could sing just as well as
Margaret Farrell Sturtevant, as you
can as Margaret Farrell. Now
couldn't you? That wouldn't be in
terfering with your career, would it!
and, Peggy, you used to care little
for me-"
She watched the fire a minute, re
lenting. "It's hard to be cross with
you, Joe. You just won't let people
will you? I'm going to be extra nice
now and explain.
"You see, Joe, your plan won't work
for hundred reasons. You love q
home. You're a regular home man
if there ever was one. l can't make
a home. It isn't in me. hate every
thing about a house. l love my music
better than anything on earth, and
can't give it up"
What she really meant was that the
fpfovioofinr ~ pnh1io homo uoc q
sensation she would not care to re.
nounce.
"All right, my girl, you're the doc
tori" Joe got up and looked at his
watch. Il didn't suppose it was much
use, but thought I'd make one more
try. I won't bother you again, ever.
Goodnight, Peggy. I've just time for
my train"
He was gone! Peggy turned out
the light and sat watching the fire.
IT guess I'll get the baby her bottle
and 60 to bed" she yawned.
A week passed. Peggy was getting
expert on mending kneeless stockings.
sorting clothes and bathing babies. II
never seemed to be bother any more
Then one night the baby got sick, very
sick.
The doctor and trained nurse hast
fly summoned took 1t philosophically,
saying there was an equal chance Of
life and death. But Peggy, Q poor,
white, stricken thing, never leaving
the side Of the little crib, thought the
world was ending.
Morning brought change for the
better. The baby would live! Peg
gy slipped silently away to her room
and sat thinking in the cold, wintry
dawn.
Mr.. Joseph Sturtevant was just set
Ting himself for q nice winters morn
ing nap. The telephone rang. He was
awake in an instant.
rs that you, Joe? This is Peggy!
I have changed my mind. And that's
all I'm going to tell you until you
come out and hear for yourself!"
Wasn't Only One With Religion.
"Yassah!" triumphantly said old
profbo, Cud6vhumn 0no roviva1 waa