Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1887 — AUNT DERBY'S SHOP. [ARTICLE]

AUNT DERBY'S SHOP.

“She’s an old darling,” said Grace Craxall, “and 1 mean to help her all 1 can. I've got a beautiful recipe for chocolate eclairs, and on Friday evening 1 am going there to make up all that 1 can, so that the school children Will buy them on Saturday. I knowhow to make cinnamon apple tarts, too, and lemon drops and cocoanut balls,” ••Grace, I do believe you have taken leave, of your senses,” said Medora May. “One would think it was disgrace enough for Aunt Deborah—our own mother s sister--to open a horrid little huckster shop, without our mixing ourselves up in the affair.” “But Aunt Debby must live, you know,” said Grace, who was perched, kitten-fasbnm, on the window-sill, feeding Urn canary with bits of sparkling whiteSugarf Kli And Cousin Nixon couldn’t keep her any longer, and her eyes are, not strong enongh for fine needlework, and her education has not fitted her to be a teacher, and her poor old rheumatic bones keep her from going behind a counter or entering a factory. 1 suppose you wouldn’t be willing to have her come and live with you?” “I!” cried Medora. “Do you suppose 1 want to proclaim to the w’hole town that I have such a dilapidated old relative as that?” “I would take her quick enough,’’ said Grace, “if I didn’t board with Mrs. Howitt, and share the little upstairs kick room with the two children. .lust waif till I marry some rich man,” she added, with a saucy uplifting of her auburn brows, “and then see if 1 don’t furnish up a stately Apartment for Aunt Debby!” “Don't talk nonsense,” said Medora. acidly, “It’s very likely, isn't it, that, a factory girl like you is going to marry a rich man?” Grace Craxall laughed merrily. All through life she and her cousin, Medora May, had agreed to differ on most points. Grace, seeing no other career before her, had, on the death of her last surviving parent, cheerfully en* tered a faetevv, while Medora, taking her stand on the patform ofV fatefe gentility, had done line sewing and bilk embroidery on the sly to support herself, putting on all the airs of a young lady of fashion the while. And now Aunt Deborah May, to the infinite disgust of her aristocratically inclined niece, had actually opened a little lowwindowed shop in a shady street just out of the main thoroughfare, Medora despairingly expressed it, “gone into trade!” For Aunt Debby, in her bewildered loneliness, had scarcely known what to do till Grace Craxall came to the rescue with her hopeful courage and straightforward common sense. ,* “I’m so helpless,” sighed the poor old lady, “that I feel sometimes it •would be better if I were dead” “Now, Aunt Debby, that doesn’t sound a bit like you,” said Grace, cheerfully. “But what am I to do?’’ said Aunt Deborah. “What can you do?” said Grace. “1 don’t know as 1 am good for anything,” said the old lady, with a quiet tear or two. except to help around the house, and 1 ain’t-strong enough for regular hired help. Your uncle always used to say I was a master hand at making bread." . '■. “Then make it;” brightly interrupted Gnice.. ' — r “Eh?" said Aunt Debby. “There's a nice little store to let on Bay street,” went on Grace, “for $lO a month.” “But I haven’t got $lO a month,” feebly interrupted Aunt Debby. “I’ll lend it to you.” said Grace, “out | of the wages I have saved. And There's a pretty bedroom at the back of the shop and a clean, dry basement under it, where you can bake your bread. I know, for the sister of the lady where i board is looking for dress, making rooms and I heard her speaking about it,” “Do you mean to open a bakery?” said the bewildered aunt Debby. “Not exactly that,” explained Grace. “But if Mrs. Howitt or Mrs. Taylor, or any of the ladies around here, could get real home-made bread, such as you make, do you suppose they would put up with what they get at the baker shops? And you could easily get up a reputation on your raisin cakes, and fried crullers, and Hew England pumpkin pies. How couldn’t you?” Th old lady brightened up a little. “1 used to be pretty good at cook-

ing,” said she. "And if you think I could support myself”- - ] “l »itn sure of it!” cried cheerful | Grace. “And l’lhfgo there with you this very day to look at the place, and ■ will engage it for three months on trial. : And! can paint you a sign to ppt over ; your door, ‘Home-made Bread by Mrs. Deborah May!’ And I’ll hem you 1 some curtains and arrange the shelves ; in the low window! «1 almost wish ! I was going to be your, shop-girl,” she added merrily. “But 1 can help you in the evening, you know!" Grace Graxall’s prophecies proved correct. | Aunt Debby’s delicious home-made ’■ bread, whiter than |»owdered lilies, sweet as ambrosia, soon acquired a rei putation, and the old lady could scarcely bake it fast enough. People came half a dozen blocks to buy the ; yellow pumpkin pies and delicious apple tarts. Children brought their hoarded pennies to invest in chocolatq sweetmeats, vanilla caramels and cream cakes with puffy shells and dej licious centres of sweetness. The little money-drawer grew fat with coins and i Aunt Deeby’s dim eyes grew bright ; and hopeful again. | ; And one day Mr. Herbert Valance, I walking by with Medora May, stopped and looked in. j “Isn't that your cousin Grace,” said he, “behind the counter? Medora turned crimson with vexation. " •■My cousin Grace?” she said. “No,- ! indeed. Wi arc not in trade.’’ What possessed her to utter this de- | liberate falsehood Medora could not ■afterwards have told. Partly the ! sling of false shame, partly a disinclination for Mr. Herbert Valance to know that her relatives were, to .usd her expression, “not ladies and gentlemen.” Mr. Valance looked up at the sign ■ over the door. i “The name is May,” he remarked ! indifferently. i “Yes,” said Medora, angry at herj self for blushing so deeply, “but no relation to us.” Mr. Valance thought over the matter. | He afterwards met Miss May at a party given by a friend, where pretty : Grace Craxall was also present. He | had taken rather a fancy to the bright ! blue eyes and delicate bldride beauty of the former, llis home was solitary enough, now that his sisters had all J married and gone away, and perhaps ! a man might find a less attractive and | graceful wife than Medora May. But j he could not be mistaken, he thought in Grace Craxall's identity. And so the next evening, about the | same time, he sauntered into the shop, j Grace was behind the daintily clean 1 little counter, taking some newly made { maple caramels off the pan. She looked up witn a smile. “Good evening, Mr. Valance,” said she. “?o,” he thought, “1 wasn't mistaken after; all. * And the little blueeyed seraph is mortal enough to tell a falsehood, in spite of her angelic Appearance.” But he looked serenely at Grace. “1 didn’t know you were in trade,” said he. “Didn't you? Well,” retorted Grace, “I am mv aunt Deborah's shop girl at present. 1 always come here in the evenings to help her, because,” she j added, with a sweet shade of serious- : ness coming over her lace, “aunt was | old and poor and she didn't know how to maintain herself in independence; and, unfortunately, my wages at the factory are. not enough for both. So I advised fhbr to open, this business, and she did, and she’s doing well; and I she bakes the most delicious bread l and pies ate, so,”, with a I saucy twinkle* under her eyelashes, j “if you know of any customers, will you please recommend our firm?” “To be sure I shall,” he answered, in the same spirit. “And 1 am very glad Miss Craxall, to see that you are not ashamed of being a working girl.” “Of course I am not,” said Grace. “Why should 1 be?” “But your cousin Medora is.” Grace gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “Very likely,” said she. “Medora and I differ in many things.” Mr. Valance bought a pound of caramels and went away. “She is a beauty,” he said to himself.. “And she is a sensible beauty into the bargain. One of those rare creatures ! in our country—a thoroughly well balanced girl.” He must have been very well pleased with his purchase, for he came again the next evening, just in time to walk home with Grace Craxall. And they talked over Aunt 'Deborah’s affairs, and concluded, as (lour was low just then, it would be a favorable opporj tunity for the old lady to lay in her : winter stock through Mr. Valance, ! who was., acquainted with one of the great New York grain merchants. Only a-few weeks had elapsed when Medora M,;v was electrified to learn that her cousin Grace was engaged. ••To some master baker or ■journey.-. ! man confectioner, 1 suppose,” she-said contemptuously. ® ; “No,” said Grace, with eyes roguishly sparkling. “to Mr. Herbert Valance.’ i--*4f rifiin ludh if j| ~ said “Me?" dora. grow ing red then pale. “But it’s really so,” said Grace “And we are to be married in three months. And Aunt Debby is to come ana live with me as soon as she can dispose of-her business to advantage. And, dear Medora, I hope you will often come and visit me, too.” Medora May did not answer. She could not Bait in her secret heart she realized how infinitely more successful in life’s lists had been Grace’s true, frank honesty than her own subtle and devious course. Like many another, however, the lesson had come to her too late.„ A diamond-edged crescent showing in the concave the profile of the old man ifi the moon in red gold, is a noticeable novelty in scarfpins.