Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1875 — LOVE’S LABOR. [ARTICLE]

LOVE’S LABOR.

“ I cannot wait a minute —the chestnut tree in the mill-path, you know”— and away she darted, swinging her basket so high in the air that the two big apples she had snatched as she ran tumbled out and rolled away. “Yes, I know,” called Alfred, tumbling over the pump-box in his hurry to get a basket and be off. “ Then you won’t get it in after all?” the voice was the mother’s, at the woodhouse door. “ No, not this week; I have fried hard, but the guano is to sieve, and Tim’s being away it cannot get done, I am sorry to say.” “Father’s wheat not yet in!” Alfred stood still on the spot where he had tumbled, and considered as he listened. “ The guano is the trouble, that bothering guano,” and he shook his head dolefully as he called the hens to their breakfast at the wood-house door. “Guano to sieve? Tim’s only twelve, and if he could sieve guano I guess I might, if I am only nearly eight. But the chestnuts! everybody’s going to have such fun.” Thoughtfully he looked over at the top of the big chestnut tree, which he could just see peeping over the poplars at the end of the lane. “ Father,” he said, coming to a sudden resolve, and walking over to the woodhouse door, “ if you will show me how to do the guano I can do it, I guess.” Father laughed and lifted Alfred up in the air with his big, strong hands. “ How much will you sieve, my little man—a pound? Why, boy, your father has a ton to sieve, ana all to do to-day.” —“ Well, father.” • —. — ' — “ Well, you will do a pound?” “ No, sir; I will try to do a ton.” “ Well, you will try hard if you do, my son, and do it in a day. I thought you were going with Margie for chestnuts; the boys and girls of the whole place are to be at the mill-path tree." “ Yes, father, but I would rather sieve a little while. ” So Alfred stood under the shed and shook his little sieve this way and that, and the voices of the merry boys and girls every little while came ringing out so clearly that he would stop to listen, standing on his tip-toes for a minute, looking off at the top of the big round chestnut tree. “ Goodness gracious! Alfred Brandt, you are just crazy.” Alfred sieved away as fast as he could. “ Goodness gracious. Alfred Brandt! I’d be ashamed of myself! And you never came near the chestnut tree. What made you say you were coming when you just did not mean to come at all?” “ I did mean it. I was running as fast as I could, when I heard father telling about not getting the wheat in, and so 1 stayed to help.” “ I never, never saw such a boy; you helping about wheat! Father, I guess, will put you straight up-stairs if he catches you.” “ I guess father knows,” said Alfred, indignantly. “ Father taught me. ” “Well, I’m not going to wait to talk to people who do not keep their promises, and don’t keep their faces clean. I just came home for one minute to tell mother that John Rood’s wagon is going to take everybody up on the hill for a grand time, and John Rood’s going to beat the trees; so good-by.” “ Margie !” “What is it now? Don’t bother me.” “ Margie, would he take me?” “Yes, for sure, if your face is clean; good-by.” - “Margie!” “What, what!” “Margie, are you sure?” “ Yes" —she was gone, giddy as a butterfly; her old hat streamers flying in the air. “ John Rood’s wagon taking everybody; John Rood beating trees!” he could have cried in his excitement. The sieve lay at his feet; the few pounds of guano done laid in a little heap; the great ton was to do, and away off down the mill-path was the sound of voices and the rumble of John Rood’s wagon. A little way to the left, however, was father, busy over the wheat-field; one glimpse of him was enough to settle tne matter. So the sieve rattled, and the guano disappeared from one pile and appeared on the other. The twilight was coming on fast and the children were returning from their day’s frolic as father, having forgotten about Alfred’s effort in the morning, was sighing: “If it wasn’t for that guano I could plafit this week for certain, but a man may work and work and never get things right. This comes of Tim’s being away.” “Father, father!” called somebody over by the guano pile. “I’m tired, boy; don’t bother your father,” , “Yes; but, father, your ton’s done.” “ Oh, goodness gracious, what a fright!" called out Margie, Holding her hands up in horror, her hat dangling over her shoulders, and her chestnutbasket swinging) on her . arm. “ Alfred, you’re the most (dreadful looking fellow ■I ever saw. What’ll your father say?” It was soon known what father would say, for be picked the begrimed Alfred up m his arms and kissed him so tenderly, while he looked in wonder at the sieved ton, thaVMargie had no more to say, and Alfred whispered—his heart throbbing with delight—“ Father, it’s better after all than John Rood’s wagon and the chestnuts.’’— Geo. Klingle, in Hearth and Home. J