People's Pilot, Volume 4, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 November 1894 — THE TROUBLESOME LADY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE TROUBLESOME LADY

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CHAPTER Vl. Continued. While she spoke the basket in her hand tilted up and down, and a mysterious whine came out of it. Mrs. Minny, wide awake, was being entertained by the white-headed trio; they were discussing whether they would rather have a baby or a dog to play with; they decided in favor of the latter, for they never had a canine friend, While there was a new baby every year or so; in fact, the oldest girl had a careworn look on account of her duties as nurse. In the door of the house appeared a white-headed child, who called out, shrilly: , “Lady wants to know what’s squeaking out here.” “Says she’s going to get up and see, if Dr. A-corns don’t come and tell her,” shrieked a second white-head. Miss Patten opened the basket, and a fluffy mass of disapproval bounced out, spun around, and made a vicious •dash at Miss Patten’s ankles, while she stood a statue of patient endurance. “I’m used to it. He hates the basket,” she said, shaking him off. “I can't ,blame him, for I’ve fetched him clear from Bosting.” “Says she just knows it’s her dorg,” yelled the third white-head; and the doctor, with various inane cajolements, coaxed the dog to the house. Luckily Mrs. Macon removed the infant, for, with a wild bark, Skye leaped on the oed, kissed his mistress’ wan face, her hands, uttering joyful little barks, ind then, remembering old days, curled himself in a little round heap at her feet, looking at her with affectionate eyes. “Put the baby down and see if he’ll frowl,” commanded Mrs. Minny. “You heartless thing!” scolded Dr. John. Mrs. Macon gingerly laid the baby on the bed. Skye sat up, all interest and amazement, then with depressed de meanor slunk to his feet and scuttled

over the side of the bed out of the .room. How Mrs. Minny laughed! Miss * IPatten heard her. “It’s many long days since I could laugh,” she said, gfimly. “She is only a child,” said Oliver. He > wished he had not come; he should have sent his clerk. “Is Aunt Hannah out there?” asked 'Minny, softly. , i “Yes. She brought the dog.” “Is she very, very angry with me?” ipiteously. “I did not want to be caught (and made to go home. I want to tell iher, though, if she worried how sorry I *%m.” “She can come if you will be quiet and let her do the talking,” cautioned 'Dr. John. t “I’ll be good,” she answered, eagerly. i“You know I do everything you tell me Ito. What will she think of him?”with a look of pride at the red-faced 'bundle. ‘After that she can never call me frivolous again. Why, she’s quite a young thing in experience beaide me. Wasn’t she good to bring my 4og»” Aunt Hannah meant to be severe and

•old, perhaps to speak her mind a little; she had not forgiven the long, •nxious months; but the sight of the girl lying there white and frail, the baby in her arms, softened the stern old face, and with a sob she knelt down •nd gathered both to her breast. CHAPTER VIL “Craig,” said Dr. John, sitting down on a nail-keg, “why did you come here?” “Because you sent for a lawyer and for Miss Patten. I connected the mystery with the young lady I had assisted to run away, whose fate has been a good deal of trouble to me ever since. I wanted to help her, if need be. Is she very 111?” “Getting better fast. It was mad folly to start on a journey sick as she was. I don’t blame you, Craig, for that long ride and the risk you ran; she is very winning, this troublesome little lady, and brave too. It is a wonder what a woman can endure, a slight frail creature whose hand you could crush in your fingers. ” “But she had,” said Oliver, uneasily, “plenty of money, had she not?” “She was traveling in the day coach, and has, I think, about five dollars in a shabby little purse. Miss Patten was right when she said we should not see Mrs. Minny until the money you gave her was all gone. Where has she been all these long months? By her finding the dog, Mia* Patten probably knows now.” “Yes and It was as I thoughtsomething entirely original. Near Boston Mrs. de Restaud got acquaintted with an elderly female who ran some sort of a retreat for aged pets, invalid dogs and cats. The idea was so novel Mrs. Minny decided to stop over and see the place. Finding Mrs. Blinn agreeable, and Syke contented in the society of his kind at the retreat, she remained. She met a sailor from Newcastle in the street one day, and he told her Miss Patten had not been home for a long time. So she decided not to write anyone, but to remain hidden. One day a few weeks ago she came home from the village much upset, and acted oddly; she had either seen some one or read something in a newspaper, for the village storekeeper saw her poring over one, looking much upset. Two days later, leaving a note containing board for her dog, she disappeared. This Mrs. Blinn, who seems to be a good sort of a person, worried a great deal, looking for her everywhere, and in her search wrote to the postmaster at Newcastle, for she had heard Mrs. Minny speak of having been th,ere. Through that letter Miss Patten found Skye, and then started for Denver.” “She may have seen De Restaud, or that servant of his,” mused the doctor. “Well, now you are here —though I’d much rather a stranger had come— I want you to draw up a paper seating forth the facts in this case in proper legal phraseology.” “I fail to comprehend just what you mean.” “You see,” explained the doctor, “the French people are particular about documents; and between the property of De Restaud’s father and this child of Mrs. Minny’s there is only a feeble child.” “Mrs. Minny’s child?" repeated Oliver. “Why, of course. Perhaps I had not mentioned it. A nice boy—healthy, I think, and botind to outlive his cousin across the sea. The little chap born in that poor place, that switchman’s hovel, may be the heir of millions. So there must be no flaw in his title or the record of his birth.” “A child, and she here friendless, almost alone.” Oliver’s face saddened. “Poor little thing!” he muttered, “what a hard world it has been for her!” “She is sensible about it, too,” went on Dr. John. “She wanted me to write,for a lawyer and have everything straight.” “Did she suggest sending for me?” asked Oliver, oddly. The doctor hesitated. “No: she has forgotten you, old boy. Women are not particularly grateful. Then it has been a long time since she saw or -heard of you. Your vanity may be hurt, but is it not better that she has forgotten?” “Undoubtedly,” Oliver said, coldly. He went toward the house hurriedly. “A freight train passes here in a half hour; I will go on that; so get your papers ready and have the people here sign their statements. Miss Patten should also get that Mrs. Blinn to give an account of Mrs. de Restaud’s stay at her house.” Mrs. Macon cleared the kitchen table and brought pens and ink. Oliver wrote swiftly, comparing his notes with the doctor’s remembrance and Mrs. Macon’s assertions. Finally she and her husband signed their statements, the doctor his, and then Oliver looked at the clock. How hard that writing had been to him no one ever knew. From the closed door came the murmur of voices—one that thrilled every nerve an'd set his heart fast beating. A feeble cry now and then sounded strangely —the little life that had come in this far-off place and that might mean so much in the future. Outside, the white-headed children played in the sunshine. Skye, liberated from his hideous basket, which he always regarded with terror and plaintive whines, rollicked with then, glad of his freedom. How infinitely painful to record those facts before him, and to think of her as he had seen her first, that child woman in her clinging yellow gown petalled like a flower jvith its wide ruffle, her glowing hair, her beautiful pathetic eyes! She had gone so far from those days in bitter experience and suffering. Was she changed, grown saddened and old, care-worn with thought?—a calculating woman, forced to be for the child’s sake? Odd, in his mental picture of her he could find no place for the child. He could remember her with the little Skye terrier and that childish manner, but as a woman, a mother, never. lU, friendless, homeleaa, no waif of tha streets wss ever mor* desolate

than she when sh%stcpp*d off the train at this barren spot, forced to accept the charity of strangers. Her dead father would have risen from his grave could he have known. His every thought, his sister said, had been for little Minny. Well it is the dead do not know. “How fortunate yoa were on that train!” Oliver said, suddenly. Dr. John started. “Me? Yes, it was, and that I should have found our little runaway. I own up I looked for her all the time I was away.” * The door opened and Miss Patten came softly in. “She is asleep, poor dear,” she said, gently. “I guess my eyes is red. I was upset, and she don’t seem to think she done any harm in not letting me know where she was. she was so desprit and scared-like.’* “When you return to Boston,” said Oliver, “have Mrs. Blinn make a statement of Mrs. de Restaud’s stay in her house. I must caution you also to be very careful of the marriage certificate and all other papers you may have concerning your niece.” “You can trugt me,” said Miss Patten, grimly. “I took ’em away from that farm of theirs when I was a-visit-ing there, and 1 mean Minnie’s baby shall have his rights, for he’s part Patten, anyway; and would ’a’ been my brother Sam’s grandson. Sorry I be he ain’t alive to see him. Minny says she saw a Bosting paper that offered a reward for her whereabouts or any information concerning her, giving her name right out in the paper, and that was what made her go away from Mrs. Blinn’s, who was a kind, good woman, if she is in a foolish business; but I don’t know why dogs and cats shouldn’t be took care of, and folks in Bosting is always running to some new freak. Minny evidently thought Mrs. Blinn would tell on her and get the reward; but Mrs. Blinn said she’d ’a’ done by Minny as her own child.” “Was that what made her com* west?” asked Dr. John. “The poor little soul thought it her duty to go to her husband, brute as he is, ’ said Miss Patten, brokenly. “And to think that I said she was frivolous and hadn’t no stability! As much grit as 1 ve got, I wouldn’t dare go to that wolf’s den on the Troublesome and to be in that man’s power. I always thought he wa'n’t right in his mind. Minny cal’lated on account of the baby he’d be more kind, and for the baby’s sake she ought to make up with him.” Oliver drummed idly on the windowsill. Dr. John walked up and down the room, that had grown so still one could hear the ticking of the clock. “Wimmen,” said the switchman, slowly, “don’t git no credit for bein’ brave and goin’ through things ’count of what they thinks is their dooty. My

wife thinks it’s hern to live here ’count of me, when she left a good home back east. That little woman in there is lamin’ the woman natur’ of endurin’ for a man; but where my wife ’ud live and make comfort outer it, she’d jest lie down an’ die a-frettin’.” “You’ve read her right," said Miss Patten, solemnly, “an’ I’m goin’ to takewer home with me. She ain’t goin’ no further west, nor to no lone farms in mountain valleys, which was nearly the death of her afore.” Oliver glanced at the clock, then abruptly said good-by. He left no message for Mrs. de Restaud, nor did Miss Patten ask him for one. She was rigid in her ideas of what was proper, and he respected her for it. “P’r’aps,” she hesitated, “you’d like to see the baby. I could fetch him out without waking him.” “No,” Oliver smiled; “a city bachelor, as you called me once, Miss Patten, has no interest in infants. I—l think I should be rather afraid of him.” He and the doctor walked up and down beside the track, waiting for the train. The latter had his big pipe but not his flowered dressing-gown. His embroidered cap was at the retreat for invalid pets. Skye had not chewed it, Mrs. Minnjr asserted, for she meant to keep it forever, especially now, as he was such a dear man. “She —she —likes the baby?” Oliver asked, awkwardly, as he lit a cigar. “I am sorry to say she does not manifest any rapture at all. I think she was more delighted to see her dog. I always have the idea when 1 see her with young Francois that she is a little girl playing with her doll. She is afraid of him if he cries, and moans because he has black eyes and looks like the Frenchman.” “Well,” said Oliver, smiling sadly, “the chapter is ended. I have turned a page in my life’s story. She will be safe and sheltered now, and I delegate to you my position as adviser. In the next elopement Mrs. Minny makes you must be the assistant. There is my train; and so good-by.” Oliver thought the whole affair would pass from his mind, especially as Dr. John on his return said they had gone to Maine and Mrs. Minny had never mentioned him; but one day a month from that time at the switchman’s house a letter came to Oliver. He looked at the scrawly superscription, the post-mark Newcastle, and he knew well Hannah Patten did not attempt an Italian hand. He smiled with pleasure: it was good

'to be remembered after <be kmg alienee, and he hnd braved many dangers for that ungrateful young woman, the worst an encounter with her frenzied husband. “Dka» mb. Ouvsb: To think yon were so bear and I could not see youl I cried Then they told me. I cm not going to pay your money back yet until I get my own from Mr. de Beetar,d. Wo have put our case In the bands pf an old lawyer hero who was a college-mate of my dear dead father, and be thinks I ought to get a divorce, and has written to Mr. Bests ud so. Wo watch th* baby closely, for fear Henri will try to steal bi Bi. I bare nevri thanked you for helping m* ran away. How good you were! I think of you often; but Aunt Hannah will never speak of you, and folks here think it is dreadful to bo divorced. They say I am she that married a Frenchman—l suppose they think ho is from Canada—and is going into the courts to get a separation from him. For no fault of tnino I must be disgraced. Evon Aunt Hannah admits I never ought to go back to him: it would not be safe. "I had a nice time at that dogs' home; it was a funny place, with the nicest old dogs and cats. Skye had a grand time. One dog was fifteen years old and had to be fed on gruel Still. I think taking care of poor animals is better than theosophy and those fads, and Boston does have some real good freaks. I expect some day they will build an old maids' home. You never saw so many old maids as there are there. Mrs. Blinn has seven sister.: In one of those Newton towns—there's an endless chain of them—and not one of them—tho sisters, not the towns—ever had a beau. “Please do not dislike me, or at the mention of iny name put on your haughty look, as you did when I said things offending your nice Sense of what a woman's conversation should be; and write me one little letter to say you are still my good friend. I shall never ask you to help me again; Ido not need It: so you will be safe in continuing our acquaintance. Aunt Hannah does not know I have written you I get too many moral lectures anyway from bar, for she says I must educate myself so my son will have a high opinion of me. He does sot bother about nw, but divides his attention principally tn blinking at her and the latan, with a leaning towards the light. That last is naughty, is it not* “Always your friend (as the doctor calls me), Trim Troublesome Lady.”

The wound was not healed, Oliver thought bitterly. Why 6f all women must he care for this one and be so haunted by her memory? Every look of hers, her words, her gestures, tho little yellow gown, were as plain to him after a year as if he had seen her but yesterday. He had striven hard to forget, to do his duty. Yet was there harm in writing just a few lines? The narrow path was terribly lonely in life—not a path that had been his in the past; and yot —and yet she was a child. That stern honest old woman. believed in him and trusted to his honor. While he mused, the shock-headed boy knocked and thrust in his freckled face. “Gent ter see yer,” he said, hoarser than usual, for there had been a baseball match the day before, and he had been excused from duty, becanse his “mudder was sick.” “Show him in,” said Oliver, locking the letter in his desk. The last man he expected to see entered the room, shut the door behind him, took a chair, then, with almost a threatening gesture, moved it close to the desk. Henri do Restaud! [TO BE CONTINUED.]

BY PATIENCE STAPLETION

SHE KNELT DOWN AND GATHERED BOTH TO HER BREAST.

“ WIMMEN DON’T GET NO CREDIT FOB BEIN’ BRAVE.”