The Osceola Times

A GOOD INVESTMENT.
Miss Fairhaven "Casts Her Bread Upon the Waters."

The yellow haze of mid-summer hung
Its radiant pennons over the velvet
slopes of the Fairhaven farm; the river,
murmuring softly over its pebbly bottom, flashed up like a sheet of silver,
and the purple fields of clover nodding
ready for the scythe filled the air with
sweet, slumberous scents.

"Fine weather for the hayin'," said
Eliakim Fairhaven. To his material
nature God's sunshine and the grand
glitter of earth and sky were but the
instruments to fill his pockets with
sordid gain-mere accessions to "a good
crop." Alas! is not this world full of
Eliakim Fairhavens in one shape or
another?

Miss Comfort Fairhaven sat beside
him knitting and watching the cumber-
some frolics of a pair of twin lambs, de-
serted by their heartless mother, whom
she was bringing up by hand. "Yes,"
she said, with a mechanical glance in
the direction of the beamy west,"Who's
that a-comin' up the path, I wonder?'

"One of the new hands, I calculate,"
said Eliakim, screwing up his eyes. "I
didn't 'gree to give 'em their supper
and board into the bargain a night be-
fore the job begins-and I'm blessed if
there ain't a little gal along with him!"

"'Taint no hayin' hand,"said Miss
Comfort, rising and going down the
steps to meet a slender child of nine
years old, who was leading a pale,
bowed-down man, who walked with
difficulty, leaning on a crutch.

"Heart alive, child."said Miss Com-
fort, whose kindly nature involuntarily
sympathized with all who were suffering
or in distress; "what ails you, and what
do you want here?"

"Please, ma'am,"began the child,
eagerly, "if you could give us a night's
lodging—poor papa is so sick and tired,
and-"

"No, I can't!" abruptly spoke in
Eliakim Fairhaven. "This ain't no
almshouse, nor yet a charity place. If
ye can pay your way, well and good;
if ye can't, the sooner you go about
your business the better!"

"We have no money," timidly began
the child. while the man, as if stunned
and bewildered by the heartless fluency
of the old farmer's speech, leaned up
against the fence, pressing his hand
on his forehead. "but"

"Then clear out and be done with it!"
said Eliakim, resuming his seat with
dogged composure.

Miss Comfort looked appealing at her
brother. "If I could just get 'em a
bowl of milk; Eliakim, and—"

"Stuff and nonsense,"
sonorously

ejaculated the farmer; "I ain't a-goin
to give in to that sort of thing. Once
begin, and you'll never leave off, you
soft-headed womanfolk!"

Slowly and wearily the two poor
travelers turned and plodded their way
adown the broad, dusty road, the lan-
guid footsteps of the invalid scarce
keeping up with the tripping pace of
the child..O papa, papa," sobbed the
little girl, turning her blue, wistful eyes
to the white, worn face, "how cruel
people are!"

He placed his hand upon her curly,
uncovered head. "Never mind. Essie.'
he said, with a mournful, tender pathos
in his voice; it will soon end. It can-
not be for long, as far as I am con-
cerned, poor child! But for you—"

He stopped, his voice husky with emo-
tion.

They had walked what seemed to lit-
tle Esther a weary way, when there was
a rustle among the wild rose-bushes
that overhung the stone wall at their
side. and voice called hurriedly to
them to "stop!"

"It's me "said Miss Comfort Fair-
haven, reckless of her grammar.

"Eliakim-that's my brother-he's gone
over to the class-meetin' at Squire
Dunda's, and I cut down through lots to
overtake you. I tell you I can't some-
how get your father's face out o' my
mind. You're sick, ain't you, mister?"

"I shall soon be quite well." he ans-
swered calmly, and Comfort Fairhaven's
more experiencedeye detected the hid-
den meaning which the little girl never
once suspected.Yes, he would soon be
well, but it would be in that country
where the inhabitants never say"I am
sick."

"Where are you going?"asked kind
Miss Comfort, her voice growing husky
in spite ofherself.

"We are going to my grandpapa,"
said little
Essie.

"Grandpapa was
vexed with my mamma for marrying
papa and going to England, but papa
thinks he'll take care of me now. But
I won't stay with him unless papa stays
too."

And she resolutely tightened her
grasp upon the thin, fever-burning
hand.

"I s'pose you want to get to Lons-
dale?"said Miss Comfort.

The man nodded.

"Is it far"

"Eleven good miles yet," said Miss
Comfort; "but I'll tell you what-I'll
make Joab get out the wagon, and
with a good buffalo robe over the seats
you'll ride easy enough. They'll be
back afore Eliakim gets through shout-
in' and prayin'-I hain't no patience
with that kind o religion-and while
you're a-waitin' I'll bring down a
mess o' bread en' meat and a bottle
of my currant wine. "Taint good to
travel on an empty stomach."

And five minutes later Miss Comfort
was carrying her hospital intentions
into effect, greatly to the delight and
appreciation of the hungry child.

"Now, see here," said Miss Comfort
drawing the child aside, when Joab
drove up with the comfortable farm
wagon and stout old horse, "I don't
guess you've got more money than you
can use"

"We have only enough for our rail-
road tickets,"said Essie,
her counte-
nance falling, "but"

"I thought so," said Miss Comfort;
"and here's a five-dollar bill I've laid
aside out of my butter money that Elia-
kim don't know nothin'about.'

The child's eyes were brimming as she
looked up in Miss Comfort's honest
hard-featured face.

"Will you let me kiss you, just once?"
she whispered, standing on tip-toe to
bring her blooming cheek to the spin-
ster's wrinkled lips. Kissing, as Miss
Comfort might herself have remarked,
had she leisure for a remark, was not
much in her way, but she could not re-
sist the sweet, wistful entreaty

"There," she said, with a strange
moisture in her eyes, "run along, Joab's
waitin'."

"Oh!" cried little Esther. as she sat
on the buffalo-draped seat, "I wish I
was rich and grown up!"

"Why, what 'ud you do?" demanded
honest Joab.

"I'd buy a diamond necklace and a
pink dress for that good lady."

Joab chuckled. I don't know as
they'd become her."he said, with grim
jocularity. "So gee up, old Doll!'

"I know I'm pretty old to be lookin'
arter a situation." said Miss Comfort
Fairhaven, but I can't starve, nor I
won't beg. so what's there left? We
had a good farm once, but my brother
couldn't rest till he speculated it all
away, and now he's gone and I'm all
alone. So if you know of a good place
as housekeeper, or matron in an asy-
lum, or general overseer, I don't much
care where—"

The intelligence office keeper, with a
slight shrug of his shoulders. broke in
on the torrent of Miss Fairhaven's ex-
planatory eloquence.

"What wages did you ask?"

"I ain't particular about that so long
as it's a good home.'

"Here's a place that might perhaps
suit vou-housekeeper wanted "at Mr.
Duponceau's. No. -Fifth avenue. You
might try it, although I hardly think a
person like you would suit.

"I ain't young. I know," said Miss
Comfort with a sigh, "but there's a deal
of tough work left in me yet- Give me
the address; I shan't give up and starve
without tryin' for it.

Yet, in spite of all her philosophy.
Miss Comfort's heart, like that of the
Queen of Sheba of old, grew faint
within her as she sat in the luxurious
reception-room of the Fifth avenue
mansion, surrounded by silken chairs
gilded tables, flashing mirrors and pic-
tures, whose radiant skies might have
been painted in liquidized gold, so rare
and costly were they.

"I'm a'most sorry I come!" thought
Miss Comfort. "I don't fairly believe
I can give satisfaction here.

While the thought was passing
through her mind, the door swung
open, and a tall young lady in a blue
silk morning robe entered-a young
lady with golden-brown hair looped
after the fashionable style over her
brow and deep blue eyes.

Miss Comfort rose and dropped
stiff little courtesy.

"I've called to see—" she began, but
to her amazement the rest of her speech
was abruptly checked by the young
lady's arms being thrown round her
neck.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you," she
cried out ecstatically; "I thought I never
should see you again. I went to the
old farm, but you had gone away, no
body knew whither!"

And she hugged Miss Comfort more
enthusiastically than ever, with bright
tears sparkling on her eyelashes.

"Why." demanded the bewildered
spinster, "who are you?"

"I'm Essie! Don't you remember
little Essie Bell that you gave the five-
dollar bill to in the twilight by the wild
rose bush, when—"

"Oh—0-0-h!" exclaimed Miss Com-
fort, "you don't mean to say you're
that

And here she stopped, nearly stran-
gled by Essie's renewed embraces,
while she listened to the story of how
grandpapa had adopted her, and how
she was surrounded by all that luxury
could devise or art invent.

"And I have longed to see you
again,"added Essie, "for if it had not
been for your kindness papa never could
have lived to reach his home. And you
shall live with me always now, and be
my darling old friend.

"No," said Miss Comfort, gravely.
shaking her head, "I've come to apply
for a situation as housekeeper, and if
you won't give it to me, why I must go
elsewhere.

And Essie was obliged to consent.

"But mind," said she, nodding the
golden masses of her crepe hair, "I
shall give you what wages Iplease!
Grandpa always intrusts those things to
my management."

So Miss Comfort Fairhaven stayed
nominally as housekeeper-really the
trusted and revered head ofthe estab-
lishment, and her declining years were
surrounded by a peace and luxury she
never had dared to dream of in her
loftiest aspirations.

Miss Comfort Fairhaven had invested
the five-dollar bill advantageously. She
had cast her bread upon the waters, and
after many days it had returned to her.
—Chicago Inter Ocean.