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Mrs. Clements' Help

Mrs. Clements' Help image
Parent Issue
Day
3
Month
October
Year
1879
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

"Of all things this is the worst! If I ever in my life expeeted to hear such news! Why, our George lias gone and got married! D'ye hear?" Good Mrs. Clemants pushed her steel-bowed spectacles off her bright eyes, and dropped her letters in her lap, as she turned round to her husband, the stout, clever old farmer, who was oontentedly stroking ati old white cat. "Deacon, d'ye hear?" This time when she asked the ques:ion there was a touch of sadness in her voice. "Yes ; what if he is married ? I'm sure its natural enough. It kind o' runs in the family, 'pears to me." But Mrs. Clements would take no notice of the little pleasantry, "Well if you like it, I can teil you I don't. He needn't think he's coming lere with his fine city bred lady, all airs, and graces, and flounces and rufles. There's plenty of good girls hereabout that wanted him. Right in the middle of work, too ! To talk of bringing a lady here in hog-killm' time ! I do declare, I think George is a fooi!" A gracef ui, dainty little lady, in a garnetpoplin and a ruffled apron, with a small, proudly-poised head. covered with short, dusky curis, having a pair of dark-blue eyes, so wistful and tender, a tiny rosebud of a mouth, and a dimple in each pink cheek. That was Mrs. Marión Clements. Was it any wonder that George liad fallen in love with her ? She sat in the bright little parlor, close beside the lace-curtained window, watching for her loveci nusDawra Kturn ; and then when she heard the ciick of the latch key in the hall, flew for the welcome kiss. Looking up, she asked - "Havn't you the letter this time, George ? I've feit sure of it all day. Indeed, I've quite decid ed what dresses to take with me." He smiled and shook his head. a cloud passed over her pretty face. "Oh, George ! Isn't it too bad ; And I do believe they won't write because they are sorry you married me." He put his arm around her neck. "And supposing such to be the case, do you think it would make any difference with me ?" "Oh,no, no! Only it would grieve me so if I knew I had alienated your own parents f rom you." "And a one-sided alienation it would be too! They have never seen you. And when they know you they can't help loving you ! " "Oh, George." The exclamation was caused by the kiss accompanying his own flattery. '■That's true as preaching. By-thebye, my dear, what would you say if the firm sent me off on a travelling tour of six weeks. A little dismayed cry answered him. "You won'c stay here alone, eh? But Marión, it would be $500 clear gainto UB." "What need we care for money ? I'd rather have you." A mischievous smile played over the young man's Ups ; he was more matterof-f act than this romantic, tender little wife of his. "I think the addition to our balance at the banker's would be very consoling for the absence. But never mind, little pet. Let's co down to dinner. I hope we'll get a letter from home soon." And soon It was; for Marión snatched from his pocket the very next night. But her husband's face looked grave and stern, and his eyes looked angry when she looked gleef ully over the envelope. "My dear, you mustremember 1 care very little what the letter contains. Eemeinber, I did not write it : that you are dearer to me than ever bef ore. Kiss me, first, while I watch you." A little pang of misdoubt troubled her when she glanced over the note ; tears stoie from under her lashes, and George saw her tender mouth quiver and tremble; then, when she had linished it, she laid her head upon his shoulder and cried. "It was cruel to let you see it, my wounded birdie. Let me burn it. And don't forget darling, what our Bible says - that a man shall leave father and mother and cleave to his wife. You are my precious wife, Marión, and to you I turn for all the happiness my life will ever hold." He dried her tears, and then they talked it over. "j ust because I am city bred she thinks 1 am lazy, and haughty, and dainty, and - " "Never mind, Marión. She will find out some day. My father-" "Yes, bless the dear old man! He has added : 'My love to my daughier Marión.' Oh, I know I should love him, and your mother, too, if she would let me." ' We will invite them down wlien 1 come here. By the way, Marión, I will stop at the farm on my way home and invite them down and bring them home with me." "George, dear, I've been thinking about that trip West. I think you had better go and leave me at home. It won't be so very long." Marión was eating her egg while she spoke across the little breakfast table. "Spoken like my little true Marión, and when I come back I'll bring you a present. What shall it be, dearest?' "Your father and mother from the farm. It shall be the hope that shall bear me company when you are gone." A fortnight after that, Marión Clements ate breakfast alone, tue traces of a tear or so on her pale cheeks ; then she dashed them away with a merry, joyous laugh. "This will never do, and now, tliat George has gonefor six weeks, to prepare for nis return. And I pray heaven that it shall be such a coming as shall delight his soul.', "I'm sure I don't know what to say. The land knows I need help bad enough ; but it 'pears to me that a slender midget as you couldn't earn your salt. What did you say your name was ?" "Mary Smith, And, indeed, if you will try me for a week, I'm sure you will keep me till the season's over." Mrs, Clements looked out of the window at the great clouds that were piling gloomily up; and then the wind gave a great wailing shriek around the corners of the house, "Yon can cook, ken you ? or shake up feather beds - good big ones, forty pounders?" A gleeful little laugh came from Mary's lips. "Indeed I can. I may not cook to suit you, but I can learn." Mis. Clements walked out to the huge open lire-place in the kitchen, where the deacon was shelling corn. "What d'ye say, deacon ? keep her or not? I kind o' like her looks, and the dear knows it Jud be a good lift while we're killin', if she couldn't do no more'n set the table or make mush for the bread." "Take her, of course, Hannah. You are hard driv', I know. Let her stop a week or so, anyhow." So Mrs. Clements came slowly back and sat down again. "You can't get away to-night anyhow ; there's a snowstorm been brewin' these three days, and it's on us now, sure enough. See them 'ere flakes fine and thick. You may as well take your things upstairs to the west garret, and then come down and help me get supper." Then f ollowed directions to the west garret and when she was gone Mrs. Clements turned to the deacon and said: "I never saw a girl before I'd trust up stairs alone. But such as her don't steal. I can teil you that, if nothing else." Directly she came down in a purple print dress and white apron ; her hair brushed off from her face into a net, a narrowlinen collar, fastened with a sailor's loop of narrow ribbon. It seemea as if she had life, too, so handily she flitted in and out of the pantry and then down the cellar. Then, after the meal, she gathered the dishes in a neat quiet way that was perfect bliss to old Mrs. Clement's ears. "She's determined to earn her bread anyhow, and I like her turn, too." And the deacon had "taken a shine" to Mary Smith. One by one the days ■vroro on tina hoer-k iilinp was over and done ; long strings of sausages hung in fantastic rings, arranged by Mary's def t fingers ; sweet hams and shoulders were piled away in true housewifely manner, and now Mary and Mrs. Clements were sitting in the sunny diningroom, darning, patching and mending. 'I don't know what I'm going to do without you, Mary. I dread to see you piek up your clothes." A blush of pleasure overspread Mary's face. "1 am so glad you have been suited with my work. Indeed I have tried." - "It ain't the work altogether, though goodness knows, you're the smartest gal I've seen this many a day. As I say, it ain't the work, it's you Mary- me and the deacon - " Mary's voice trembled at the kindness of the old lady's voice, but she sewed rapidly on, "It's so uncommon lonesome since the boy left the farm," she went on, "but it's worse since he got married. It seems like deserting us altogether." "Have you a son? You never mentioned him ?" "No, George has gone his way, and we must go ours. Yes, he married one of those crack-headed boarding-school people, who can't teil the difference between a rolling-pin and a milkpan." But despite her scorn,'.Mrs. Clements dashed off the tears with her brown fist. "Is his wife pretty ? I suppose you love her dearly ?" "I don't know anything about her, and never want to know. He's left us for her, and us old folks will leave him for her, too. Mary, j ust turn them cakes around; geems as if they're burning." When Mary had turned the cakes. Mrs. Clements was leaningon the arm of her chair. "Mary, supposin' you stop with us another month yet, anyhow. The deacon will make it all right." "It isn't the money I care for, Mrs. Clements. 1 only wish I might stay always. You don't know how much I love you." "Love us! do you? Bless your heart. If poor George had only picked you out, what a comfort it would be to us all! But it can't be helped now," She sighed wearily, then glanced out of the window, looked a moment, and then threw down her work. "Bless my soul, if there ain't my son George coming up the lane! Deacon! deacon! George is coming!" With all her mother-love rushing to her heart, she hurried out to meet him. Oh, the welcoming, the reproaches, the caresses, the determination to love him still, despite poor, innocent little Marión! Then, when the table had been set in the next room by Mary's deft fingers, and she had returned to her "west garret," Mrs. Clements opened her heart. "There's no use talkin', George, this fine, fancy lady o' yours '11 never suit rae. Give me a smart girl like Mary Smith, and 111 ask no more. Come in to supper now. Mary, Mary !" She raised her voice to cali the girl when a low voice near surprised her. "Oh, you dressed up in honor of my boy! Wel!, I must conf ess I nevei knew you had such a handsome dress and you look like a picture with your net off, and them short, bobbing ciirls George, this is Mary Smith, my - " George came through the door and glanced carelessly at the corner where the young woman stood. Then, witli a cry, sprang with outstretched hands to meet the little figure that sprang into them. The deacon and Mis. Clements now stood in speechless amazement. Then Marión, all blushes and tearful smiles, went over to the old pair and took, them both by their hands. 0 "1 am George's wife. I waa so afraid you would never love me, so I carne deLermined to win you if I could. Mother, father, may I be your daughter. And a happier family, when they lad exhausted their powers of surprise amazement and pride in the beautif ui Marión never gave thanks over a supper table.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus