Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 July 1883 — BRINGING HOME THE COWS. [ARTICLE]

BRINGING HOME THE COWS.

BY MRS. A. R. FERRIN.

“Well, Bessie, the new teacher is going to board with us this summer,” said Farmer Mapleton, as he listed two brimming pails of milk and set them on the kitchen table. “I saw him down at Shelby this afternoon, and he engaged board at $3 a week. He seemed awful anxious about the family, somehow.” ‘‘Why so, father?” asked the girl addressed as Bessie, deftly slipping the shining pans from her arm into a row alongside of the milk pails. “Oh, he wanted to know how many there were in the family; and, when I told him only myself and wife and one little girl, he put on a mighty satisfied look, and asked if the little girl-was old enough to go to school. ” “And what did you tell him ?” again queried the damsel, with an amused look, as she lifted one of the pails and poured the rich, foamy fluid slowly into the huge strainer. “Oh, yes, I said, she is old enough to go to school, but I don’t think we shall send her this summer, as her mother prefers to teach her at home.” A clear, ringing, silvery laugh followed this speech, and Bessie took up the empty pails and strainer and went out to the kitchen pump. Bessie Mapleton, Mr. Mapleton’s little girl, as he always called her, was in reality a magnificent specimen of womankind. She was fully five feet eight inches in height, with massive shoulders, beautifully-rounded bust, shapely arms and hands and a well-turned foot. She had also a splendid head of wavy, red-brown hair, matched by a pair of glorious eyes. With these, a clear, creamy complexion, deepening on the cheeks to a pale rose, full, red lips, and rounded, dimpled chin, combined to form a very pleasing exterior. In point of intelligence Miss Mapleton was far above the ordinary 18-year-old country girl. She had -graduated with signal honors at a ladies’ board-ing-school, and had now cOme home, as she said, to .add to her other accomplishments a good stock of common sense. As her mother chanced to be without a domestic she, of her own accord, proposed to take that share of the labor usually performed by the hired f girl, and thus learn the mysteries of housekeeping. She had proved herself an apt pupil, and, after six months apprenticeship, Mrs. Mapleton, who rather prided herself on her excellent housekeeping abilities, decided that Bessie could do almost as well as she could herself. Now, Mr. Mapleton had not meant to deceive Edgar Pierpont when he spoke of his little girl. He had fallen into a habit of calling her so in her early girlhood before she had developed into her present grand proportions, and he still kept it up. There is no denying the fact that he was somewhat proud of her magnificent form and comely features, and, when he saw how quickly the young schoolmaster snapped up the unintentional bait, he was fain to let the matter pass without further comment, and let the truth flash upon him from Bes-ie’s bright, bewildering eyes. “I will bring up the cows to-night, father,” said Bessie as she rose from the supper table the night Mr. Pierpont was expected to put in his appearance. “I don’t think you’d better, Bess.,” said Mr. Mapleton, teasingly. “That young schoolmaster might come while you’re gone. You’d be rather ashamed to be caught driving up the cows, wouldn’t you?” “Not a bit of it, father,” and seizing her sunbonnet she rangayly out through the open gate and down the lane, sending back a clear, rippling stream of song which fairly made the old orchard ring with its melody. Now, whatever was Bessie Mapleton’s object in going after those cows t is particular evening, perhaps no one but herself will ever know. It might be that, knowing the half-mile walk would brighten her eyes and deepen the color in her cheeks, she desired to avail herself of its advantages, as she was one of the few women who have a real contempt for all the so-called cosmetics of the day. Or it might be that the chord of romance which vibrated strongly through her being prompted the act. Certain it is that she had taken more than the usual amount of care with her toilet, which, though simple and entirely in keeping with her avocation as a farmer’s daughter, was neat and tasteful. And certain it is, too, that, if she had the least idea of getting up a romance on her own private account, she succeeded beyond her most sansuine expectation. She had reached the lower end of the pasture, and after, as it seemed to her, a vastly unnecessary amount of coaxing, hallooing and throwing of clubs, she had at last succeeded in getting the cows into line, and fairly on their homeward way. She was congratulating herself on ■her stioeeßs, when, presto! Juno, a jnagnificent 4-year-old, dipped her horns to the ground, and with a sniff and a snort and a sudden lifting of the heels went cantering away across the fields, with Brindle and Pink and Brownie and Blossom rushing pell-mell after her in such a wild fashion, that Miss Mapleton stood aghast at the prospect of ever getting them together again. Her first thought was to go to the house and send her father after them. Then she remembered that she had volunteered to br'ng them up, and she must do it in some way. So, gathering her skirts over her am, she took a long stick in her hand, with her sunbonnet hanging over her J shoulders and a determined look in her \yes, she started on the chase. But were there ever such perverse animal -> in the wide world? Hither auu tliither they ran, as if possessed

by the very demon of mischief. In vain she shook her stick and hallooed; in vain she ran frantically to and fro. All her efforts seemjed rather to increase their playfulness than to inspire them with any feelings of respect and obedience. At last she stopped in the middle of the field, panting for breath, with flushed face, disheveled hair and angry* looking eyes; and, uttering an exclamation expressive of strong disgust, she threw down her stick and was returning toward home, when she suddenly became aware of a masculine presence, and a deep, rich voice asked, “Shall I help you, miss ?” Looking up, she saw a broaff-shonl-dered specimen Of the genus homo rapidly approaching, with an amused expression in his blue eyes and certain twitchiugs of the muscles of his month, showing a strong inclination to laugh. But at sight of the flushed face and tired eyes, this tall, merry-looking stranger became suddenly tender and respectful; and, while Bessie grew hot and uncomfortable Bud painfully conscious of her demoralized condition, he remained cool and self-possessed, and, taking up her discarded weapon, he proceeded after thosa refractory bovines in a way that evidently meant business. But, as though perfectly aware of a superior presence, to Bessie Mapleton’s utter disgust, those cows formed quietly into line and marched as demurely toward home as if that wild, wicked frolic had never been thought of. As they followed the cows along over the green, crocus-dotted sward, the young stranger conversed in an easy, off-hand way, which under ordinary circumstances would have put Miss Bessie entirely at her ease. But she was too keenly alive to the fact that her dress was torn by an unlucky contact with a thorn-bush, her collar awry, and that her back hair had escaped the legitimate confinement of c mb and hair-pins and hung in great, coffee-colored masses about her neck and throat. “Where does Mr. Mapleton live?” he asked, abruptly, when the cows were safe in the lane, and the bars replaced. “I’m the new teacher, Mr. Pierpont, at your service,” with a low bow, “and I’m going to board with them this summer. ” “Right up there,” answered Bessie, indicating the house with a nod, and smiling in spite of her chagrin. “These are Mr. Mapleton’s cows.” He regarded her curiously a moment. “And you are?” “Miss Mapleton,” with a profound courtesy. “Ah! indeed. Mr. Mapleton’s niece, perhaps. ” “No; Mr. Mapleton’s daughter.” “I think—l understood Mr. Mapleton to say he had but one daughter, and that was a little girl. ” “Well, he always calls me his little girl,” she said, looking up with a comic-ally-counterfeited shyness; and then, as all the grotesqueness of the situation burst upon her mind, she gave vent to a long, low, hearty laugh. It was contagious. Mr. Pierpont laughed too, albeit there was a disappointed look in bis handsome, blue eyes, which was not lost upon observing Bessie, and at which that young lady naturally enough felt a little piqued. “Never mind, Bessie,” she said to herself, “Mr. Pierpont doesn’t seem to care for our company. I really don’t, wonder at it,considering our dilapidated i appearance this evening, but we will take care not to inflict ourselves upon him more than is necessary. ” At the gate they met Mr. Mapleton. He stopped to exchange greetings with the .young teacher, while Bessie ran quickly into the house and upstairs to her room, Mid did not make her appearance again that evening. At the breakfast-table she was cool and stately, and acknowledged Mr. Pierpont’s presence by a very slight inclination of her handsome head. For some reason unknown to the writer, Mr. Edgar Piei-pont had decided that young ladies as a class were somewhat of a nuisance, and he had been particularly anxious, in selecting his summer boarding place, to avoid contact with the e, as he thought, superfluous attachments to the human family. Whether it was some unfortunate love affair, which had assisted Mr. Pierpont to this decision is immaterial, so long as the fact remains that he had voted them altogether unnecessary to his happiness. “Vain, silly things,” he was wont to say; “hollow-hearted flirts, whose only idea of life is to angle for the attentions of the*opposite sex, and eventually to marry a rich man. Bnt if he had the least idea that Bessie Mapleton was going to angle for his attentions, or try to get up the least bit of a flirtation, he reckoned without his host, for she was as sublimely oblivions to his presence, except when particularly addressed by him, as if he had been at the antipodes.

And always her replies were sharp and pointed and sometimes so sarcastic that good Mrs. Mapleson wondered what had come over her usually amiable and pleasant daughter. Before he was hardly aware of it, Edgar Pierpont found his interest aroused. He saw that this girl Was different from other girls of his acquaintance, and he resolved to study her. Watching her from day to day as she performed her homely duties, and seeing how quiet and helpful and womanly she was, how kind and pleasant to her father and mother, how gentle and affable to casual visitors, he could not help wishing she would be just a little more sociable with himself. But, do what he might, she met his advances with icy indifference. The more he sought her side, the more persistently she avoided him. - At length, much to his chagrin, he found himself actually becoming infatuated by the willful beauty. And when he attempted to break the meshes Of the net in which he had been caught, he was powerless to do so. He had to acknowledge himself irrevocably lost, hopelessly, desperately in love. He believed, too,that Miss Bessie was not altogether unaware of his sentiments toward her, and he sometime fancied he was not so obnoxious to her as he seemed to be. Watching her closely he had seen swift upflashing of the brown eyes, filled with soft and tender light, followed by sudden waves of crimson ovqr neck and brow as they drooped quickly again under his searching gaze. And, indeed, Bessie had found herself in a predicament she had not anticipated, for one day there come to het a moment of supreme revelation in which she saw into the depths of her owfi heart, and she knew that she loved Edgar Pierpont with all the strength of her womanly nature. But, with that spirit of perverseness which is inherent in some female she quickly.

decided to cover up all traces of her love, and not by word or sign to betray the fact that her heart had gone out unasked to any living man, for never under velvet or satin robes beat a prouder heart than throbbed Under Bessie Mapleton’s gingham wrapper. It wanted a week yet to the close of the school term. Unconsciously to herself there had come into Bessie’s wide, brown eyes an anxious expressions. Her manner was distraught and her temper fitful and uneven, so much so, that her mother had several times anxiously inquired if she were ill. “No, mother. I’m not ill, and I Wish you wouldn’t keep worrying about me, all the time,” she had answered peevishly on one of these occasions, aud Mrs. Mapleton had wondered more than ever what change had come over the spirit of her daughter’s dreams, but if she surmised anything of the truth she wisely kept it to herself. “I believe Edgar Pierpont loves me, and that he would tell me so if I gave him the least chance,” Bessie said to herself over and over again. And yet, strange as it may seem, she placed every possible barrier between herself and such a declaration. And Edgar? He had vainly sought for au opportunity to see her alone. He knew she purposely kept out of his way, and he was debating with himself whether to go away and make no mention of the love that was devouring his heart Eke a consuming fire, or to ask her for a private interview, knowing she could not well refuse him this, and learn his fate from her own lips. It was at this juncture of affairs that Mr. Mapleton asked Bessie one evening at the supper-table if she could bring up the cows, saying that he had to go some distance to see a neighbor and it would be quite late before he should get back. Edgar Pierpont heard with devout thankfuness, and eagerly awaited her answer. “Certainly, father,” she said, blushing furiously as she thought of her former experience, “I’ll try. ” “I’ll go with her and help her, Mr. Mapleton.” Bessie opened her lips to decline the proffered assistance, but, as she met for an instant those calm blue eyes across the table, the masterful spirit which shone out through them compelled her to be silent. Down through the old orchard, where the red-cheeked apples swung low upon the heavily-laden branches; past the corn fields, whose wide, green leaves and yellow tassels rustled in the evening breeze; around the brow of the hill, where their feet at every step nestled in among the fragrant clover blossoms, and down to the spring, where a rustic seat had been fixed up under some spreading oaks, they went. ' He had not spoken a word since they started. Bessie would have chosen to go down the lane directly to the pasture, but by some secret power he had gained over her within the last halfhour, he compelled obedience to his unspoken wishes. Now he broke the silence: “Sit down here, Bessie, I’ve got something I want to say to you.” She flashed up a little smile of defiance, but she had met her master. She sat down. He remained standing. “Miss Mapleton,” he began, “for more than a week I have been seeking jan opportunity to see you alone. But you have purposely avoided me. I felt that I could not g<? away from here without telling you what is in my heart. But before I say more I want to ask you a question, and I want you to give me (i truthful, straightforward answer. Will you?” “Do you doubt my veracity, Mr. Pierpont?” she asked, with a sudden assumption of dignity. “If I answer you at all I shall probably tell you the truth. ” “Very well, then,” quietly ignoring the reflection contained in her speech. “It is this: What have I ever done to make you dislike me so much ?” A spasm of pain swept for one instant over her expressive features. “What makes you think I dislike you ?” “You have never given me any reasons to think otherwise. From our first acquaintance you have seemed to consider me as entirely unworthy of your notice. Perhaps it was this which first attracted my attention, and set me to watching you. Observing from day to day vour sweet, helpful, womanly life, I have learned to love you, and—oh! Bessie, I would like to know what I have done that was wrong, that I may, if possible,* atone for my fault, and try to win your love in return.”

“I want to ask you a question,” she said suddenly, looking up with an arch smile. “A dozen, if you like. ” “One will do, I think, but I want you to give me a truthful, straightforward answer. Will you?” “I’ll try to,” smiling in spite of his earnestness. “Weren’t you very much disappointed when you found out that Mr. Mapleton’s little girl was a full-grown young woman?” “I—I—I—” he stammered, reddening painfully under her mocking scrutiny. “No prevarication, if you please. ” “Well then, I may as well make a clean breast of it, and admit that I was disappointed, and, furthermore, that I had at that time a very poor opinion of girls in general. I considered them as silly and selfish, and—” “Entirely unworthy of your notice. ” “Perhaps that is not putting it too strongly,” he admitted, wincing a little. “But, Be°sie, my love for you has taught me a higher form of faith, and a nobler creed. Having made my confession, am I not entitled to your forgiveness, and an answer to my question?” * . “To my forgiveness, yes,” extending her hand with charming frankness. “I did not agree to answer your question ?” “You will at least tell me, Bessie, if I can ever hope to win your love ?” “No, Edgar,” with sudden sweet seriousness. “You cannot hope to win my love, for it is yours already. I have a long time known that my heart was yours. I think I have loved you ever since you came to my assistance .that evening, when I was so tired ana discouraged. But I was piqued at your indifference to my girlish charms,” she added, naively, “and I resolved to pay you off in your own coin. I have discharged the debt. lam free.” “Only to be bound again by a firmer contract,” he exclaimed, and placed upon her lips the seal of their betrothal. Together in the early twilight they followed home the cows again, and while Brindle and Brownie and Blossonb and Pink and Juno walked quietly and contentedly along the lane, these young people talked together of th ci r‘future and laid wise and sagacious plaafs for the days to come,

Then, when the milk had been strained and set away in the wide, cool pantry, and the lamps had been lighted in the sitting-room, they appeared hand-in-hand before Mr. and Mrs. Mapleton, and Edgar Pierpont asked of them their daughter m marriage. “Yes, yes, you may have her,” exclaimed Mr. Mapleton, rising up in a sort of nervous flatter, “but you can’t take her away. Yon must come here to Ijve. I’m getting old, anyway, and I need some one to help me to see to things about the farm. Are you willing to do this ?* “More than willing, Mr. Mapleton.” “That settles it then, and may you be happy together, as happy as Mother Mapleton and I have always been, is the best wish I can give you.”—Chicago Ledger.