EEE ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— ing—iunside! I don’t know four what, I am sure that he is in love with 3 | so. but all the same, Patty. I'm wait-: boy and that poor lonesome big Ivory. Bemorratic afc, | but I always feel that I am waiting!” | Waitstill. He doesn’t know it. Nhe Bellefonte, Pa., July 17, 1914. The Story of Waitstill Baxter [Continued from page 6, Col. 4] There'll be some-thing to do. There'll be some-thing for chil-dren to do! On that bright, blessed shore Where there's joy evermore There'll be some-thing for chil-dren to do Patty’s young existence being full to the brim of labor, this view of heaven never in the least appealed to her. and she rendered the hymn with little Syi- pathy. The main part of the verse was strongly accented by jabs at the unoffending dandelion roots, but whea the chorus came she brought out the emphatic syllables by a beat of the broken knife on the milk pan. This rendition of a Sabbath school classic did not meet \Waitstill's ideas of perfect propriety, but she smiled and let it pass. planning some sort of recreation for a stolen half hour of the afternoon. It would bave to be a walk through the pasture into the woods to see what had grown since they went there a fortnight ago. Patty loved peo- ple better than nature, but failing the one she could put up with the other, for she had a sense of beauty and a pagan love of color. There would be pale hued innocence and blue and white violets in the moist places, thought Waitstill, and they would have them in a china cup on the supper ta- ble. No, that would never do. for last time father had knocked them over when he was reaching for the bread and in a silent protest against such foolishness got up from the table and emptied them into the kitchen sink. “There's a place for everything,” he | said when he came back. “and the place for flowers is outdoors.” Then in the pine woods there would be, she was sure, Star of Bethlehem, Solomon's Seal, the white spray of ground nuts and bunch berries. Per- haps they could make a bouquet. and Patty would take it across the fields to Mrs. Boynton’s door. She need not go in, and thus they would not be dis- obeying their father's ¢ommand not to visit that “crazy Boynton woman.” Here Patty came in with a panful of greens, and the sisters sat down in the sunny window to get them ready for the pot. “I'm calmer.” the little rebel allow- ed. “That's generally the way it turns | out with me. 1 get into a rage, but [ | can generally sing it off.” { “You certainly must have got rid of | a good deal of temper this morning by the way your voice sounded.” | CHAPTER V. A Kiss. bs HALL we have our walk in the woods on the Edgewood side of the river, just for a change, Patty?” suggested her sister. “The water is so high this year that the river will be splendid. We can i gather our flowers in the hill pasture, and then you'll be quite near Mrs. Boynton’s and can carry the nosegazs there while 1 come hone ahead of you and get supper. £'ll take today’s eggs to father's store =n the way ani ask bim if he minds o»r de7ing 3 little walk, I've an errand at Aunt Abby’s that would take me down to the bridge anyway.” “Very well,” said Patty somewhat apathetically. “I always like a walk with you, but I don’t care what be- comes of me this afternoon if 1 can't go to Ellen's party.” The excursion took place according to Waitstill’s plan, and at 4 o’clock she sped back to her night work and preparations for supper. leaving Patty with a great bunch of early wild low- ers for Ivory's mother. Patty had left them at the Boyntons’ door with Rod- man, who was picking up chips and volunteered to take the nosegay into the house at once. “Won't you step inside?” the boy asked shyly, wishing to be polite, but conscious that visitors from the village very seldom crossed the threshold. “I'd like to, but 1 can't this after- noon, thank you. I must run all the way down the hill now or I shan’t be in time to supper.” “Do you eat meals together over to your house?’ asked the boy. “We're all three at the table, if that means together.” “We never are. Ivory goes off early and takes lunch in a pail. So do I when I go to school. Aunt Boynton never sits down to eat. She just stands at the window and takes a bite of something now and then. You haven't got any mother, have you?” “No, Rodman." “Neither have I, nor any father, nor any relations but Aunt Boynton and Ivory. Ivory is very good to me, and when he’s at home I'm never lone- some.” “I wish you could come over and eat with sister and me” said Patty gently, “Perhaps sometime, when my father is away buying goods and we are left alone, you could join us in the woods, and we would have a picnic? We would bring enough for you—all “Nobody can hear us in this out of | sorts of good things—hard boiled eggs, the way place. It's easy enough to | doughnuts, apple turnovers and bread see that the women weren't asked to say anything when the men settled | where the houses should be built. The | men weren't content to stick them on | the top of a high hill or balf a mile | from the stores, but put them back to | the main road, taking due care to cut | the sink window where their wives | couldn't see anything, even when they ! were washing dishes.” | “I don’t know that 1 ever thought | about it in that way.” And Waitstill | looked out of the window in a brown | study, while her hands worked with | the dandelion greens. “I've noticed it, | but I never supposed the men did it | intentionally.” | “No, you wouldn't,” said Patty, with ! the pessimism of a woman of ninety, | as she stole an admiring glance at her ! sister. Patty's own face, irregular; | piquant, tantalizing, had its peculiar ' charm, and ber brilliant skin and hair | So dazzled the masculine beholder that | he took note of no small defects. But Waitstill was beautiful—beautiful even | in her working dress of purple calico. | Her single braid of hair, the Foxwell | hair, that in her was bronze and in Patty pale auburn, was wound once | around her fine head and made to! stand a little as it went across the | front. It was a simple, easy, uncon- | scious fashion of her own, quite differ- ent from anything done by other wom- | en in her time and place, and it just | suited her dignity and serenity. It | looked like a coronet, but it was the | way she carried her head that gave! you the fancy. there were such spirit | and pride in the poise of it on the long, | graceful neck. Her eyes were as clear | as mountain pools shaded by rushes, | and the strength of the face was sof- tened by the sweetness of the mouth. i Patty never let the conversation die | out for many seconds at a time, and | now she began again: “My sudden! rages don't match my name very well; but, of course, mother didn’t know how 1 was going to turn out when she called me Patience, for I was nothing but a squirming little bald. red baby. But my name really is too ridiculous when you think about it.” Waitstill laughed as she said: “It didn’t take you long to change it. Per- haps Patience was a hard word for a baby to say, but the moment you could talk you said ‘Patty wants this’ and ‘Patty wants that.” “Did Patty ever get it? She never has since, that’s certain! And look at your name. It's ‘Waitstill,’ yet you never stop a moment. When you're not in the shed or bare or chicken house or kitchen or attic or garden patch you are working in the Sunday school or the choir.” It seemed as if Waitstill did not in- tend to answer this arraignment of her activities. She rose and crossed the room to put the pan of greens in the sink, preparing to wash them. Taking the long handled dipper from the nail, she paused a moment before plunging it into the water pail; paused, and leuning her elbow on a corne: of the shelf over the sink, looked stead- fastly out into the orchard. Patty watched her curiously and was just going to offer a penny for her thoughts when Waitstill suddenly broke the brief silence by saying: “Yes, I am always busy. It's better i hit him square. spread with jelly.” “I'd like it fine!” exclaimed Rodman; his big dark eyes sparkling with an- ticipation. *I don’t have many boys to play with, and I never went to a picnic. Aunt Boynton watches for uncle ’most all the time. She doesn’t know he has been away for years and years. When she doesn’t watch she prays. Sometimes she wants me to pray with her, but praying don’t come easy to me.” “Neither does it to me,” said Patty. “I'm good at marbles and checkers and backgammon and jack straws, though.” “So am I,” said Patty, laughing; “so we should be good friends. I'll try to get a chance to see you soon again, but perhaps I can’t; I'm a good deal tied at home.” “Your father doesn’t like you to go anywheres, 1 guess.” interposed Rod- man. “I've heard Ivory tell Aunt Boynton things, but I wouldn't repeat | them. Ivory’s trained me years and Years not to tell anything, so I don’t.” “That's a good boy!® approved Pat- ty. Then as she regarded him more closely, she continued. “I'm sorry you're lonesome, Rodman, I’d like to see you look brighter.” “You think I've been crying.” the boy said shrewdly. “So I have, but not because I've been punished. The rea- Son my eyes are so swollen up is be- cause I killed our old toad by mistake | this morning. I was trying to see if 1 could swing the scythe sos to help Ivory in haying time. I’ve only ‘raked after, and 1 want to begin on mowing soon’s I can. Then, somehow or other, the old toad came out from under the steps. I didn’t see him, and the scythe I cried for an hour, that’s what I did. and I don’t care who knows it, except 1 wouldn't like the boys at school to hector me. I've buried the toad out behind the barn. and I hope Ivory'll let me keep the news from Aunt Boynton. She cries enough now without my telling her there’s heen a death in the family. She set great store by the old toad. and so did all of us.” “It’s too bad. I'm sorry. But, after all, you couldn't help it.” “No, but we should always look round everywheres when we're cut- ting—that’s what Ivory says. He says folks shouldn't use edged tools till they’re old enough not to fool with ‘em.” And Rodman looked so wise and old fashioned for his years that Patty did not know whether to kiss him or cry over him as she said: “Ivory’s always right. And. now. goodby. I must go His very minute. Don’t forget the pic- ec.” “I won't!” cried the boy, gazing aft- er her, wholly entranced with her bright beauty and her kindness. “Say, I'll bring something, too—white oak acorns, if you like ’em. I've got a big bagful up attic!” Patty sped down the long lane, crept under the bars and flew like a lapwing over the highroad. “If father was only like any one else things might be so different!” she sighed, her thoughts running along with her feet. “Nobody to make a home for that poor lonesome little | doesn’t know it. Nobody does but me, but I'm clever at guessing. | was the only one that surmised Jed Morrill was going to marry again. | should almost like Ivory for myself. he is so tall and handsome. but of course he can never marry anybody. He is too poor and has his mother to look after. I wouldn't want to take him from Waity, though. and then perhaps | couldn't get him anyway. if | couldn't. he’d be the only one! 1 have never tried yet. but | feel in my bones. somehow. that | could have any boy in Edgewood or Riverboro by just crooking my foretinger and teckoning to him. I wish—1 wish they were dif- ferent! They don't make me want to beckon to them! My forefinger just stays straight and doesn’t feel like crooking! There's Cephas Cole, but he's as stupid as an owl. I don’t want a husband that keeps his mouth wide open whenever I'm talking, no matter whether it’s sense or nonsense. There's Phil Perry, but he likes Ellen. and besides, he's too serious for me. And there’'s Mark Wilson, he's the best dressed and the only one that’s been to college. He looks at me all the time in me ting and asked me if 1 wouldn't take a walk some Sunday afternoon. I know he planned Ellen’s party hoping I'd be there! Goodness gracious, I do believe that is his horse coming behind me! There’s no other in the village that goes at such a gait!” It was, indeed, Mark Wilson, who al- ways drove, according to Aunt Abby Cole, “as if he was goin’ for a doctor.” He caught up with Patty almost in sunbonnet just to twirl the twinkling of an eye, but she was ready for him. She had taken off her | it by the | string, she was so warm with walk- | ing, and in a jiffy she had lifted the | clustering curls from her ears, tucked | them back with a single expert move- | ment and disclosed two coral pendants Just the color of her ear tips and her ! glowing cheeks. “Hello, Patty!" the young man called i in brusque country fashion as he rein- | ed up beside her. “What are you doing | over here? Why aren’t you on your ! way to the party? I’ve been over to Limington and am breaking my neck to get home in time myself.” “I am not going. There are no par- ties for me.” said Patty plaintively. “Nct going! Oh, I say, what's the matter? It won't be a bit of fun with- out you. Ellen and I made it up ex- pressly for you, thinking your father couldn’t object to a candy pull.” [Continued next week.] Health is the vital force of woman's at- tractiveness. When she loses her health she loses her charm. Nothing can simu- late the sparkle health gives to the eye, the mirth it lends to the laugh.’ The best physically and. mentally. He would | if he followed “honest nature’s rule” and lived a more even life. | the average man prematurely old. He (is gray or bald, his face wrinkled, his eyes biurred, his hands tremulous. has overdrawn his account with Nature ! and she is staving off the total bankrupt- cy of the body as long as she can. long she can do this depends upon the man himself. He can aid Nature great- ly. The best aid to Nature is the use of Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery. It supplies the material by which the physical deficiencies can be made good. It increases the quantity of the blood and purifies it. ery” with proper attention to general hygiene will insure a sturdy old age. the WATCHMAN and some other papers that cost you just as much. At middle life a man should be his| ——If you always want to have the best take the WATCHMAN and you'll have it. Middle life sees Little Hotel Wilmot. He The Little Hotel Wilmot IN PENN SQUARE One minute from the Penna Ry. Station PHILADELPHIA How We have quite a few customers from Bellefonte. We can take care of some more. They'll like us. A good room for $1. If you bring your wife, $2. Hot and cold running water in every room The use of the “Discov- ——There is no comparison between The Ryerson W. Jennings Co. 59-9-6m Shoes. Clothing. Hats and Caps. general health of the woman is bound up with the local health of the delicate womanly organs, and any attempt to re- establish the health of woman must be- gin by curing the ulceration, inflamma- tion or female weakness, or stopping the debilitating drains which sap the strength and mar the beauty. The use of Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription works ! wonders in restoring the general health. “Friends hardly know me.” “I am again robust and rosy cheeked,” are only some of the frequent testimonies to the reju- venating power of “Favorite Prescrip- tion.” CASTORIA Bears thesignature of Chas. H. Fletcher. in use for over thirty years, and The Kind You Have Always Bought. CASTORIA. TC TT ALCOHOL 3 PER CENT. | i@1X1l| AVegelablePreparationforAs. 288 | similating the FoodandReguia | ting the Stomachs of Ee INFANTS SCHILDREN 81 | Promotes Digestion Cheerful git: | ness and Rest.Contains neither | Opium Morphine nor Mineral : NOT NARCOTIC. ; | Becpe at ald DeSUMIELPIOER ; Poplin Seed = Fochelle alls Shedd * Ih Anperfect Remedy for Consfipe: : Bigshot Diarrhoea | Worms Convulsions feverish (89:1! | ness and LOSS OF SLEEP. Tie CENTAUR COMPANY, | NEW YORK. At6 months old ) : 35 Doszs —35 CENTS Ee TS5T aie OTe is Exact Copy of Wrapper, 59-20-e.0.w. ASTORIA For Infants and Children. Hardware. 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Get Summer's AA STUDEBAKER SIX $157 Il pro : al | Lt i ai: ¢ You want-a “SIX” for its puculiar and inimitable “SIX” smoothness, And you want that “SIX” which offers most for the money. Therefore, you want a “SIX” whose important parts are manufactured and not purchased. You want no lesser standard than the Studebaker standard of manufacturing. You want no electric lighting and starting system less efficient than the Wagner-Studebaker. You want ample carrying capacity for seven passengers. And how can you look further, when you find ail these things in the Studebaker “SIX”—Linked to the lowest price in the worldj? FOUR TOURING CAR......... $1050 SIX TOURING CAR............ 1575 “25” TOURING CAR............ 885 RE ———————————————————. EI SUSE aon Be BEEZER’S GARAGE, GEORGE A. BEEZER, Propr. so-3-tf Bellefonte, Pa. Also agent for Chalmers Cars.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers