Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 63, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 November 1912 — FATHER’S SCALES AN AID TO LITTLE COPID [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

FATHER’S SCALES AN AID TO LITTLE COPID

How the Housekeeper Successfully Engineered Love Affair.

By J. T. GREENLEAF.

“Did you get any satisfaction about our marriage out of father this morning. Paul?” Brownie Weston asked her lover as they were pacing the broad piazza of the Weston home in the April dusk. ■‘jfes and no,” answered the young man. ‘‘He said: ‘When I'm in danger of going to jail on account of my sharp practices or some woman ropes me into marrying her, you may have Brownie.’ ” “That’s father all over,” she laughed. “How he does enjoy a war of wits, especially with you! Let’s think about it, for I don’t believe it’s a wholly idle speech. Tell me something else that has happened today with you.” “Absolutely a gray blank in every espect. We’ve been hauling potatoes to the car for him to ship—but yes, there was one little thing that was interesting. Widow Aikins brought two bushels of the tubers, and when I weighed the outfit again it fell short 60 pounds, showing one bushel only.” “That’s queer,” the girl flashed. ‘What did you do?” “Registered it for two bushels and gave her a credit slip accordingly.” “Then his scales are wrong,” Brownie cried. “If they are, he doesn’t know it. He’s the most obstinate, cantankerour, old —” “Sh—sh—■” the girl ordered, layng a slim, brown hand over the farmer’s mouth, “you mustn’t speak n that derogatory way of your future father-in-law! ” ‘‘A—a—mighty long way in the future,” sputtered Paul, getting the obstruction to free sueech in his hand as he went on; “but even then he’s honest and square.” “I’m glad you think so, but I know him better than you do, and there’s more in it than shows,” she pursued. “Tomorrow, every load you bring to him, you weigh at home and then

weigh back the crates on your own. scales and tell me about it when you Come over In the evening.” “That’s silly, darling,” Paul declared. “If there’s an inaccuracy he doesn’t know It, and if it should turn out that he does, you and I couldn’t

tHst- «... . catch him. i Know were isn't. He's honest.” "You mind me, Paulsie,” the daughter of Hiram Weston ordered, “for there’s something doing, I know.” This reminder of Weston’s own spirit was enforced by something < that topped the young man’s mouth. The following morning a solid bit of humanity, Hannah Arbuthnot, queenly, even in her dark blue calico drejs said to Brownie: “What’s the matter with my baby?” “Nothing new, dearie,” replied the girl. “Just the old story—father won’t let me marry Paul. He keps jollying us along. You know what a dear, trying mischievous old angel he is!” “What's he done now?” asked the housekeper, hitching her portly self up on the broad kitchen table and gathering Brownie in her strong arms. A few words told the latest developments and then Hannah soliloquized: i “He said that, did he? You leave him to me. We’ll see what your oldmaid foster-mother can do for her baby. He wanted to marry me once, you know.” “When Weston drove In, tired, wet and muddy, that evening, Hannah caught a lantern and slipped out to the barn, saying as she closed the door: “You give him his supper, little girt” Toward the end of the satisfying meal, Weston remarked with his eyes taking in the beauty of the girl: “You remind me so much of your mother. Brownie I ” “That’s a great coifipliment, father, for they say she was a handsome woman.” “She certainly was,” he agreed; “but what’s Hannah up to, taking core of old Kitty for me and all? She hasn’t heard of my proposition to that riow, good boy lover of yours, has she?” "What would she try to do if she had?” “She might think I'd ask her to marry me, especially if you two got your heads together to beat an old man," he chuckled. “But Hl never do that twice to the same woman!” A light step on the porch took the girl to the door, and Paul was usherd into the parlor. “Well, what about the weights?" asked the little lady at once. “Each load was about 60 pounds short; but he don’t know it, Pm sure,” was the report. * “All right,” she responded, with her eyes dancing with mischief. “I’ll call him in and you tell him.” “I? I? Tell your father! I’d rather i face a locomotive!” he exclaimed. “But don’t you think he ought to know It?” “Why—yes. He certainly—” he ’ stammered, as she called out through the open door into the dining room: “Father, Paul and I don’t agree about a matter and we want your advice. Hannah, you better come, too!” . . “What Is it all about?” Weston asked, going directly to Paul, who was as white as marble, lijs and hands in a tremor. As the reply was slow in coming, there was a second demand: “Out with it!” “Ycur —your—scales, • Mr. Weston, are wrong, but I don’t —” . “My scales wrong?” the older man burst out “Why you young—you young—and right in my own house "I—l thought you ought to know it, sir,” Paul babbled. Then he told his story.” “But I’m sure you didn’t know it,” he added. "And you and Brownie aren’t lntandlne to tt in response to my

proposition ardayl" “Oh, no, be fair unless you knew it. You’re honest, sir.”

“Well, sir, I did know it,” said Weston, handing Brownie the round, iron disk that represents 300 pounds as a weigWt. “Turn it over, Kitten. See that little wad of lead. That made the overweight that Paul found. I used it on his own outfit and the widow’s, to see how far he was watching his own Interest.” “Then may I have Brownie?” gasped Paul

“Not much,” cried Weston, “I'm in no danger of going to jail for sharp practices, am I?” “May I say a word or two?” demurely asked Hannah.

“Sure,” assented Weston, "I’m in the hands of the Philistines, but I’m too much for the whole of you.” “Please read that,” said Hannah passing an old letter to Brownie. After a minute of scanning the missive the girl said: “This is a proposal of marriage from Hiram Weston to Hannah Arbuthnot, dated six years ago. Its concluding sentence provides that the offer holds good for ten years, as an evidence of good faith.” ( Looking Weston squarely in his eyes, Hannah declared: “And now I accept!”' ■'• Gathering the regal figure In his arms and looking at Paul and Brownie over the shapely shoulder, Weston cried: “Roped! By thunder!” (Copyright, 1912, by Associated Literary Press.)

"Your—Your Scales, Mr. Weston"