The weekly Iberian. (New Iberia, La.) 1894-1946, 1921-09-10

ners. say so like the man l hope we've
made you. l know you won't think
ought to use Marfa's money, she has
saved little more than the thousand
In her three years work for us. But
we know, mother and l, her heart is
set on spending 1t for silk. and she
shall have the fun Of doing it no mat
ter what happens"
Aunt Cynthy read the letter through.
pursed her lips, winked hard. then
said abruptly: Joe; will you take
me down there for the weekend Satur-
day."
Yes, If you care to CO." Joe said
restrainedly. He had hoped she might
be touched; instead she seemed to
think only Of herself Later by
shrewd questions she learned that he
could not send the money with the
business situation so ticklsh, his own
business could spare nothing not i'm
peratively needed, and outside Dor
rowing would queer, not only himself
but his firm. To that she nodded af-
nrmatively but said only: We'll go,
but don't you dare give them warn
Ing. l want to see all things for my
self"
All the long sunny AFTERNOON the
runabout took them through a frost
scathed world. The sunny days had
brought out fully the havoc wrought
even forest trees were nipped, or
chards showed as disconsolate blOts
on the landscape-wheat that had
been like green velvet was a tangle Of
twisted darkness with faint yellow
showing through. Even the lines Of
young corn wore yellow tips. Joe was
no land-lover, yet he groaned In spirit
over the ruin,
Farmers are the really reckless
dealers in futures" he said bitterly.
They stake neutrality-suspicious. wind
and weather. things nobody can con-
troll"
Aunt Cynthy nodded. I'm glad you
have quit the game" she said.
Maria ran out to welcome them,
bare-armed. trim and rosy, with wispy
curlS peeping out from her white cap
and fetching dimple at play in her
left cheek Behind came her elders,
with smiles and open arms. They
were maddenly cheerful for folk on
| the edge of ruin. Joe had written
| instantly, cOnfessing himself unable to
help-but here were all hands lively
| as crickets, with no cloud anywhere
| in sight
Supper was a poem made manifest
! in country plenty and superlatlve
cooking. Aunt Cynthy exclaimed over
| It to such an extent her sister was
! moved to say, pretending to sigh !:
Eyes = We've a fine cook-but my,
she's a pirate in petticoats! Has gone
I'D on us dollar a week-with wages
] tumbling all round u.s."
"And the worst iS-we can't dis
charge her-yOu see she owns us-and
the place. Mr.. Lane said with a
/ twinkle. Maria frowned at him, but
he went on: "Fact-holds mortgage
on everything-for the rest Of our
lives-so we can look the sheriff In
the eye and make faces at the tax
gatherer. Still-I'm a little afraid
she'll prove rather tyrant."
Maria? You never?" Joe cried, a
choke In his throat. "How could YOU
when-wheny There he had to stop.
"When you love silk so WELL" Aunt
l Cynthy finished for him. Maria had
stood up, her eyes downcast-now she
ran behind her father, put her arms
around his neck and said clearly :
"Can't | love them bettery
After that the visit was joyous
riot. Marta, the informing spirit OF It,
petted everybody Even Aunt CynthyI
who ended by staying fortnight.
Two days before she left came
wonder trunk for Marfa-one which
disgorged rainbow miracles of silk and
satin. lace and linen cambria. Under
meath there were some heavy brocades,
stiff and gorgeous enough for corona
ton robes. Mrs Lane gasped at sight
Of them. but her sister said proudly,
holding creamy gold-shot fabric next
to Marfa's glowing face: Here's the
wedding gown. child-and don't you
wait too long to wear it"
"Thanky, madam won't Maria
said blushing rosy-red.