People's Pilot, Volume 4, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 March 1895 — BETSY'S SUCCESS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BETSY'S SUCCESS

ISS ASH was a w \ maiden lady of so many years that she no longer hesitated to wear her own grey curls, Td] but she was very well off, healthy and upright as a dart, and but for > one peculiarity would have been a happy woman.

In these days, believing too little is the general stumbling block, an.l many people deny almost everything that can be mentioned, and are extremely proud of having faith in nothing. But Miss Ash reversed this state of things. From the hour of her rising to that of her retiring, the most alarming things were constantly occurring. The salt was spilled, there were awful cracks in the look‘no*g'’asses, and she picked up crooked pins. The bread and cake came cleft out of the oven, and the old servant heard steps on the stairs when no one ascended them. The street door-bell rang without hands—at least no o::o saw anyone outside when the door was answered. “homo put their faith in princes,” we are told. Miss Ash pat hers in fortune-tellers. She had always dono so from the days when they spoke confidently of “a fair young man, with his heart in his hand,” or a “dark-complexioned young gentleman what fears to speak his mind.” The dark young gentleman Miss Ash had always presumed to be Mr. Tompkins, who had let concealment prey upon his damask cheek for sixty years or so and then departed in consequence of gout.

But with all these weaknesses, Miss Ash was not a bad sort of woman. She did a great deal for the poor; was kind to her old servant; and had taken in, out of charity, a poor young French girl, whose father had died upon the passage to America, and who might have died herself, perrhapbut for the pity Miss Ash had upon her. She loved her nephew Dick, too; gave him many a present and kept his pockets well filled with small change. She instructed him in the art of table-tipping, in which, having even less veneration than most lads of 15, he soon became an adept, and so great a medium that he could offer his aunt communications in the formof cracks, snaps, tips or writing, from all the celebrated personages mentioned in history. As for the French girl, Esteßc. Isoir, she was superstitious too in her own way, but it was a fearful way, which made her shrink from peering into futurity. Meanwhile Betsy Baker laughed in her sleeve at the whole of it—-table-tipping and all; and racked her brains for so-me pretext by which she could turn her mistress’ love and kindness from t!ie French girl, who had, as she believed, stopped into her place, au.l might perhaps, deprive her of her long expected legacy. Now and then, however, even in this ghostly household, the real usurped the place of tlio unreal and

the actual present was wore interesting than the future. Suoh a time came wh *n Master Dick was sent to college awl cm me to pay his aunt a farewell vis t, an 1, since he had lut liis mother some years before, to be properly fitted out by her womanly bands. There were shirts to make sin 1 ties to be bought, handkere'i efs to hem and mark and a thou-and buttons to see to. Kstclte worked cldigently, and her dainty French needlework wa> a per feet marvel. She marked all his clothes and beautifully. "She sat in "madameV* room and stitched nrd Betsy llaker looke lat her malevolently, when she brought up the linen from the wasa: for Misi Ash praised the girl’s work, an 1 had sp >ken in the kit.oheu of her "beautiful black hair.” “Them French an’t any good, Miss Ash.” Betsy had remarked, “especially when they’re what I call charity folks.” lint Miss Ash had resented the remark, and now Uetsy held her peace. And Dick whistled and hanged abiut the house And the young and old women were at work up sta rs, and there was no more tab o-tipping or inquiries of soothsayers until a morning when a cab stopped at the door, and a big trunk was put on behind, mil l> ok kiss*.l ills mint ami was a;' 'wwi Mis* Ash. folding hei hands together at her belt, heaved a great sigh, and said aloud: “Weil. I must go and see Madam* Smith to- morrow, and aak hfr bow

the dear boy is going to get on. Yon shall go with me. Estelle.” But Estelle cried: “No, madame, please; but I fear that madame, the teller of fortunes. ” Nevertheless, on the morrow Miss Ash went to Madame Smith. The seeress was in better condition than usual. The gin bottle was fnlL She smiled upon Miss Ash, and said: “Ah! I’ve been expectin’ of yon. The boy is off your hands now. I knowed you’d come.” “Wonderful!” said Miss Ash. Then the seeress reclined in a rocking chair, and was supposed to go into a trance. “I am a spirit from the realms above,” said the seeress, in a few mo ments. “I an’t come for to stay long, only for to give this friend a promise and a warnin’,” “Oh, deal!” said Miss Ash.

“The youth will become a vorgreat man,” said madame. "lie w ! climb the pinnacles of fame,and - k ■ he has dumb ’em, the voice of th.- :>• lion will select him for the future president. But there's a dreadful danger before you, although it may be avoided. You have took into your heart and home a foreign person. Beware!” “Now, there,” said Miss Ash, who sometimes argued with her spiritual guide, “there you are mistaken, Madame Smith.” “It an’t me,” said madame suddenly coming to herself. “It’s a higher and mightier power than what I am.” “Well, it’s mistaken, anyhow,” said Miss Ash. “She’ll turn out well.” “No, she won’t,” responded the spirit in possession of Madame Smith. “Look in your secret drawer when you get home and sec if your father’s gold watch is safe. She opened it last night after you were asleep and too!: it out. And she’s t> iwnud it or sold it. It’s gon.\” Miss Avh looked horror-stricken. She went home trembling and co d with apprehension and rushed straight to the secret drawer or her eserito r. Tin watcli she valued so was gone—her father’s watch which she had treasure I so lon And Estelle and her nephew Dick a’one knew how to open it. Even good Betsy Baker she had never trusted. Estelle was the thief. The girl sat sewin r. an 1 looked an at her with a smile when she called her. “My watch E-telle—-r; watch faih r’s great watch, that I showed you. Where is it? It Is gone!” “Aii. non D.ea!” cried Estelle. “Gon. ? liupossib’c! ’ Her face was not that of a guilty person, but M.ss Ash never doubted her mi’lt for on • moment. “Estelle,” sl e said, “the spirits have to dra - all about it. You took it. Gvo it back an 1 i’ll not punish yon. ’’ “Mu laine,” er e I poor Estelle, “I have it n t lam no thief. I—l take madame's wateii! impossible!” And tiier • were tears and prayers and vows, but no confession. Miss Ash would ha Vo believed no living tongue that bad told the tale, but an angel from ii aver, ha l revealed the truth an 1 she could not doubt it. After long hours, in which she strove to fofoo the g r! to confess, she took the course she had threatened from the first—called a policeman and sent the girl to pris in. “I must have the watcli back,” sho said, as she tosse 1 up .n the pillow. “A night in jail will do it. I shall never have faith in any one again.”

Uetsy Uaker lay awake also, giddy with triumph, yet half terrified. T tore was no fair-fae d rival in the house now. ' J’ut she was white-faced and miserable. At dawn, or a very little after, came a rappin * at the door of Miss Ash’s house. A policemita stood there, “About the yoang gal that took the watch, mum,” he ‘.aid. “Has she cornesse asked Miss Ash. “Not exactly,” replied the man. "Hut it points that way.’’, “I don’t wish to pr>s:en'e,” sail Miss Ash, “only to p-H the watch lack.” “Ah,” said the mm. “'V 11. there’ll be noneel. Sue's uo d." “Deal!” screamed iletsv [laker on the stairs. “;k*a ! Deal!” “tiling her .el f.” siu i the man. “Hut h r hair up in pulls, first, and made h r elf neat as a picture. Yes ra—dead.” Uetsy Baker gave ano her cry and threw hers, if screaming on 1 a floor She tore her hair g.ia ire i ii r teeth end howled an t aadco tvai , o i ; then she nverre.l that sii ■ saw s t n standJah'at h«-r eluotv and went o f again. Finally coming to hers.*lf, she put her hand into her pocket an I g.-vu Miss Ash a note, grease at the ed,3 and smelling of sin > :e. “I went to Mad: me Fmith'an I told her what t i say,” see hi . “I paid her to say it. As i r your \\ atoh, read tliat,. - ’ And Miss Ash, tearing the envelope, read tiie.su lines in D ck s m ij: “L'.kak Am.ntv—Pease forgive me. I've got your watch. I wanted one so bad. 11l take goo l care of it, and bring it ba k wh -n t>a g vjs me a new on •. Your a fectionate Dick.” Miss Ash read th * words and fainted away. She came to a a in, how *ver, and went to poor E.telle’s funeral, ami p!a tied fl iwors over her grave. An i Betsy Baker d d not die at once, as she would in a play,though she left t ie holts.* that da. - . But f irtunet.eiiingnad no charms for Mis 3 Ash any more.

“I [?] AM NO THIE [?] ”