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SIX “7 he Story of Waifstill Baxter” < «y r'? s/ -V ft}***' l A .• m ¥*l •MjlLiSifefe; fli f «™™v..... wnjciiis wiggin Kite Dou(lu Wtggtn P* ~V^-^ ‘"’’^-j.*•'*'"* Author of “Rebecca of Sunny brook Farm" PROLOGUE. Strength and interest of qiu lives in the New England < three-quarters of a century ay provide the framework of “Th■ Siory of W ait still Baxter." Thu is the skeleton. The flesh ana Hood of human beings, livin/ and loving and moving in a worlc of their own that is a miniaturi picture of the greater world out side, are also there. The story is a cross section of life as meet and described by a woman wh< has been well called "America'! greatest living woman novelist.' Amid the hills of New Englana are many men and women lik> Waitstill and Patience Baxter and their father, Ivory Boyntor. and his afftioted mother ana funny Cephas Cole, who wont hopefully, but with small chanci of success. They find their wa) into books but seldom, for it takes a master hand to describi faithfully the doings of real people. And that is the realtor . why "The Story of Waitstill Baxter” has won highest praise from critics who know a good book when they see one. (Continued Prom Yesterday.) ’Ub. .. . "We along pretty well." ante Rodman contentedly. “I love book learning like Ivory, and I’m going to be a schoolmaster or a preacher when Ivory’a a lawyer. Do you thluk I*at ty ’d like a actusilninster or a preach er beat, and do you think I’d be too young to marry her by nn<l by. If she would wait forme?” “I didn’t thluk you bad any Idea ol marrying Patty.” laughed WaltaUl. through her team. ”la this something now?" "It*» net eaacMy new." aaid Rod jumping along like a squirrel in the path. “Nobody could look at Patty and not think about marrying her I’d lore to marry you. too, but you’re too big and grand for a boy. Of course I*m not going to nak Patty yet Ivory aaid once you should never salt a girl nntll you can keep her like a queen. Tbeu after a minute he aaid "Wall, maybe not quite like a queen Bad, for that would mean longer than a man could Walt Shall we nay un tO ha could heap bar Ilka the dearest lady In the lauds That’s the way he said It You do cry dreadfully eaay today, Walty. I’tn aure you barked pair leg or skinned your knee when you fall down. Don't you think the *daoweet lady in the land’ la a nice sounding sentence?” “I do, Indeed!” cried Waitstill to hansel f as she turned the words over and over trying to feed bar hungry heart with them. “I lowa to hear Ivory talk. It's like the stories in the boohs We have our be* times ta the barn, for I’m help bag with the milking now Our yel low cow’s name Is Molly and the red cow used to bo Dolly, but we changed her to Oolly ’cause she’s so trouble •OfUIH* 1 “Wo had a crons old cow like that ones," aaid Waltadi) nheenCly, loving to hoar the boy’s chatter and the eter nal quotations from his beloved hero “Wa have great fun cooking, too,” continued Rod. “When Aunt Hoyn ton was first sick aba stayed In bed more, and Ivory and I hadn't got used to things. One morning wo bound up each other’s bums Ivory had three fingers and I two done up In buttery rags to taka the firs out Ivory called ua 'soldiers dressing tbslr wounds aft ar the battle.’ Sausages spatter dread folly, don’t they? And when you turn a pancake It flops an top of the stove. Can you flop one straight Walty?” “Yaa, I oan; straight as a die; that's what girls ara made for. Now run along home to your big brother, and do put un some warmer clothes under your coat The weather's getting colder" “Aunt Boynton hasn't patched our thick ones yet but abe will soon, and If aha doesn't Ivory’ll take thla Satur day evening and do them himself. He aaid no.” “He shall not!” cried Waltatlll paa •ltmatriy. ”It Is not seemly for Ivory to saw and mend, and I will not allow tt- You aball bring me those thlng (h«t Dtcd patching without telling mu one, do you hear, and 1 will meet yon on the edge of the paature Saturday afternoon and give them back to you You are not to s[»eak of It to any one you understand, or perhaps 1 ahull pound you to a Jelly! You'd make a sweet roar Jelly to eat with turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, you dear, com fortlng little boy!” Rodman rnn toward home, and Walt atlll hurried along, scarcely noticing the beauties of the woods and fields and waysides, all glowing maases of goldenrod and purple frost (lowers. Patty was standing under a little rock tnnple. her brown linsey-woolsey In tone with the landscape and the hood of her brown cape pulled over her bright head. She looked lluslieri and exelted aa she ran up to her slstei and aaid: "Walty, darling, you've been crying! Has father been scolding you?" "No, dear, but my heart Is aching to day ao that I can scarcely bear it. A wave of discouragement came over me as I was walking through the woods, and I gave up to It a bit. I remember ed how soon it will be Thanksgiving day, apd I’d ao like to make It happier for you and a few others that I love.” Patty could have given a shrewd guess aa to the chief cause of the heartache, but she forebore to ask any questions, “Cheer up, Walty!” she cried. “You oau never tell. We may have a thankful Thanksgiving, aftei aIL” CHAPTER XX. Pnotbs Triumphs. MRS. ABEL DAY had come to spend the afternoon with Aunt Abby Cole, and they were seated at. the two sit ting room windows, sweeping the land aoape with eagle eyes lu the Intervals ot making patchwork. “The foliage baa been a little mite too rich this aeanou,” remarked Aunt Abby. ‘1 b'llove I’m glad to see II thlnnia’ out some, ao 't we can have some kind of an idee of what's goto on in the village.” “There's plenty golu' on," Mrs. Day answered unctuously, "some of ll above board an’ some underneath It." “An’ that’s Jest where It's aggravnt in’ to have the leaves so thick and the trees ao high between you and other folks’ houses. Trees are good for shade, lt'a true, but there’s a limit to all things. There was a time when I could see ’bout everything that went on up to Rnxters' and down to Bart’s shop and, by goln' up attic, conaid'nhle many things that happened on the bridge. Bart vows he never planted that plum tree at the back door of his shop- mys the children must have hove oot plum stones when they was setttu' oa the steps and tile tree come up of Its own accord." “Men are an awful trial,” admitted Mrs. Day. “Abel never sympathizes with my headaches. 1 tokl him a Sun day I didn’t believe he'd mind If I died the next day. an' all be said was. ’Why dou't you try It an’ see, I.yddy7’ Be thinks that's humorous.'’ "I know That's the way Rnrtholo mew talks. I guess they all do. You can see the bridge hetter’u I can, Lyd dy. Has Mark Wilson drove over nonce you've been sot tin' there? lie's like one o' tbem ostriches that hides their heads in tbc saud when the bird catchers are cornin' along, thlnkln ’cause they can't see anything they’ll never be seen He knows folks would never tell tales to Deacon Baxter, whatever the glrla done. They hate him too had. I.nwyer Wilson lives so far away he cau l keep any watch o' Mark, an' Mis' Wilson's so cltyfled an' purse proud nobody ever goes to her with any news, bad or good; so them that's the most concerned la as blind as tints. Mark’s oonsld'able atid dier’a be used to lie, but you needn't tell rue lie has any notion of bringln one o' that Baxter tribe Into his fanil ly. He's only ntuualu' himself." "Patty 'll be Mrs Wilson or noth In’," waa Mrs. Day's response “Both o' them girls la atlk purses, an’ you can’t make sows' ears of 'em. We ain't neither of us hardly fair to Pat ty. an' I s'pose It's because she didn't set any proper value on Cephas." "Oh. she's good enough for Mark, 1 guess, though I ain't so sure of bis In teutious a* you be. She's nobody's fool, Patty ain't; I allow that, though abe did treat Cephas like the dirt In the road. I'm thankful he’s come to his senses an' found out the illfTremv between drosa an' gold." "It's very good of you to put It that way, Abby,” Mrs Day responded gratefully, for It was Phoebe, her own feljj Ww^Mlmr \ “Patty’ll be Mrs. Wilson or nothin’,” was Mrs. Day’s response. offrpring. who was alluded to as the most precious metals. “I suppose we’d better have the publishing notice put tip In the frame before Sunday? There'll he a great crowd out that day. hnd at Thanksgiving service the next Thursday too.” “Cephas says he don’t care how soon folks hears tile news, now all's set tied," said Ills mother. "I guess lie's kind of anxious that the village should know Jest how little truth there is in the gossip ’bout him bein’ till upset over Patience Baxter. He said they took ctMisld'able notice of him un' Phoebe settin’ together at the harvest festival last evenin'. He thought the Baxter girls would he there for cer tain, but I s’pose Old Foxy wouldn't let ’em go up to the Mills In the even in' nor spend a quarter or their tick eta.” ‘ Mark could have Invited Patty an paid for her ticket, I should think, or passed her In free, for that matter, when the Wilsons got up the enter tainment; but. of course, the deacon never allows bis girls to go anywheres .with men folks.” “Not In public; so they meet ’em side o’ the river or round the corner of Bart’s shop, or nn.vwhere they can. when the deacon's back's turned. If you tied a handkerchief over Walt still’s eyes she could find her way blindfold to Ivory Boynton’s house, but she’s good as gold, Waitstill Is. She’ll stay where her duty calls her every time. If any misfortune or scan dal should come near them two girls the deacon will have nobody but him self to thank for It, that's one sure thing!” “Young folks can't be young but once,” sighed Mrs. Day. “How’d you like that Boston singer that the Wil sons brought here, Abby? Walt a min ute. is Cephas, or the deacon tendin' ■tore this afternoon?" "The deacon; Cephas Is paintin’ up to the Mills.” “Well, Mark Wilson’s horse an' bug gy is meanderin’ slowly down Aunt Betty .luck’s hill, an’ Mark Is studyln’ the rotul as If he was lookin’ for a four leafed clover.” “He’ll bitch ut the tavern, or the Edgewood store, an' wait his chance to get a word with Patience,” said Aunt Abby. "He knows when she takes milk to the Morrllls', or butter to the parsonage; also when she eats an’ drinks un' winks her eye an’ ketch es her breath an' lifts her foot. Now he's disappeared an' we’ll wait. • • • Why, as to that Boston singer, I don’t know- how high she went, but I guess there wa'n’t no higher to go!” “It .made me kind o’ nervous," al lowed Mrs. Day. “Folks said she sung runs Hud trills better'n uny woman up to Boston.” "Ruus nu’ trills," ejaculated Abby scornfully. “I was talkin' ’bout stng ln', not runuln'. My niece, Ella, up to ParsoutieUl has takeu three terms on the planner, an’ I’ve heerd her prac tice. Scales has got to be done no doubt, but they'd ought to be done to home, where they belong. A concert ain't no place for ’em. There! What did I tell yer? Patience Baxter's cross ln' the bridge with a pall in her hand. She's got that everlastin’ yeller brown, llnseywoolsey on an' a white ’cloud' wrapped around her head, with eon sld'able red hair showln', as usual. You can always sis* her fur’s you cau a sunrise. And there goes Hod Boyn ton chasin' behind, ns usual. Those Baxter girls make a perfect fool o' that boy, but 1 don't s'pose Lola Boyn tou’s got wit enough to make much fuss over the poor little creeter!" Mark Wilson could certainly see Pat ty Baxter as far as he could see a sun rise. although he was not intimately acquainted with that natural phenome non. He took a dreuitous route from hla wateh tower and, knotting well the point from which there could be no espiouuge from Denoon Baxter’s store wtudows, Joined Patty lu the road, took the pall from her hand ami walked up the hill beside her. Of course the vil lage could »ce them; but. ns Aunt Ab by had Intimated, there wasn't a man. woman or child on either side of the river who wouldn’t have taken the part of the Better girls against their fattier. (To Be Continued Tomorrow.) THE AUGUSTA HERALD. AIfcUSTA. GA. . -. * i.' j i, —* *N AID Yoo IBU Y -r- TMt SCtNtRY A) ptCTuR.6. OF The AHiToMOBU-E- tT^TAKcfyoa Mose - wheh Y’oo WEBk ✓ c —*r The .silk. Host oto c " srtoe ayds J,^ The Idler find* loafing pleasant enough at first. "He should worry” if the world i* spinning along without him—plenty of time to enjoy the sunshine and to catch up later. U the dawdler thinks o( arising OLD STYLE AND NEW The Improvement in Advertising THE WEB OF IDLENESS and following his friends, he finds that Idleness has spun its web about him, and the bonds of habit hold him beyond hope of progress. Break the web of Idleness at the beginning, or, better, never let It begin. SUNDAY, MAY 31.