Evening Republican, Volume 59, Number 96, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1917 — PEA RIDGE AFFAIR [ARTICLE]

PEA RIDGE AFFAIR

By M. M. WILLIAMS.

“Hit beats my time whut in the nation they can do,” Slater Jo Brown said to her gossip. Sister Willy. There were seven Sisters Brown in Pea Ridge church, differentiated according to husbands past or present. Sister Jo was a widow, with an onTy and beloved son, by way of makeweight to a houseful of daughters. Half the girls had married, the others had embraced the policy of watchful watting. Octavius, son and brother, was sensitive over their methods—so much so that he fought shy of asking men friends to the house. He was indeed shy over most things—the reverse, quite, of his masterful mother, who felt herself able at the slightest notice to second the plans and expound the purposes of anything from the state legislature to divine Providence. Hence, with her wisdom admitted at fault, the case must be desperate. Indeed, It looked so to Mrs. Ware and Leda, her daughter. Rather helpless, both of them —because Aunt Susan had always taken care of them. Now she was dead and the bank had failed, so there was only their place to depend on. It was a small place, with a good house, to be sure, but only a garden, a paddock, a bit of orchard and a few acres in grass. It would hardly yield a living to an industrious farmer able to work it early and late. What could it prove but an expense greater than rent to a couple of women who had neither strength nor knowledge? Oddly, nobody thought of matrimony as an ark of refuge, notwithstanding Leda was pretty and amiable. Leda was properly penitent. Both women cried no Tittle over their helplessness, and sat at home through Christmas and New Year, trying not to be hurt by the unusual largesse of their neighbors. “We are not starving—yet,” Leda said, choking, as she put away the third batch of pies they had received in one morning, besides the loaf of gingerbread, and the wedges of plum cake. “Only I hope they will spare us broken bits of food, mammy. It’s all wrong—not being grateful—but somehow I wish they had at least watted.” “Don’t fret, daughter, dur turn will come,” Mrs. Ware said, but with a sinking heart for all her brave words. To comfort herself she went out and lifted the sash of the smallest pit, It was sacred to early bulbs —jonquils, hyacinths. narci*us. She forgot her troubles instantly in her joy at finding at least a dozen unexpectedly in flower —Jonquils and Roman hyacinths. Excitedly she snipped each blossom, ran Inside, laying them delicately together, and calling, “Le! Le! Come take Wiese to Miss Allen! Don’t let her think- It’s to pay her for her mincemeat —it isn’t —she sent it just as we would have done, being as poor herself. But she has to stay so close at home—and loves flowers. Make haste, child. And hurry back. I want yon to help me lift the heavier sash.” Miss Allen was the dressmaker. Leda, hearing Miss Allen was busy, did not see her, but sent in her gift by the errand girl. Indeed, she was busy —upon her knees, snipping and pinning and squinting at a very fine froyk, draping a very fine lady—Mrs. Carr, of the Glen, who had ordered the frock from the city, and upon getting it had changed her mind as to how she wanted it trimmed In ptfrts. “Flowers this time of the year! You’re extravagant, Miss Allen,” she said with a certain good-natured hauteur upon seeing the cluster. When their source was explained, she looked thoughtful. “I wonder—could I get some for my table? You know we have a dinner party Saturday,” she said. “Those I order are always so fragile—they wither while you look at them.” “I’ll find out,” said Miss Allen. She did. And thus began the rtft in the cloud for the Wares. They had enough to live on a year, by very close pinching. By the end of It they had violet frames full of flowers, pitfuls ol early bulbs, and roses ablow in the green house. Mrs. Carr was Interested In them, holding them her <Jiscovery. therefore her protegees. . As such she took it upon herself to make a match betwixt Leda and Octavius. Mrs. Carr had a house party at the New-Year holidays. Therefore she took all the flowers the Wares could cut, and asked further that Leda should come up and arrange them about the rooms, when a gay voice sounded at her elbow, “No fair Miss Leda.” said Linly Carr, nephew of: the house and heir presumptive. “What’s this I hear—that you’re going to take Ocky Brown? I don’t believe it! I won’t! Tell me It Isn’t so!" “It is not —Ocky can run much faster than I,” Leda said suddenly, dimpling. Linly had come near to being her sweetheart back in the happy days. He bent near and nearer, looking into her eyes, down at her roughed fingers, her little, coarsely shod feet, and said with a laugh of triumph: “Would It have to be capture? Poor little thing! Do you remember—ypu could outrun me?” “Perfectly,” Leda said. “Then don’t you ever try it,” Linly ordered. “I’m going home with you—to ask mother If you mayn’t come back to the dance tonight—and ..something else.** “Dear me! You take my breath,'* Leda murmured. Linly caught her close, saying softly, “Of course! Am I not taking you f •Cow** m ■gXXS 1 ”* N, * w “