HETTYS BABY.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2092, 15 July 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

HETTYS BABY.

11 Hetty, be you mad—gone clean out of your senses 7 Remember, if you marry that scamp you arc nt i .ng to me. I would rather see you in your coffin 1" So saying, Hempsy Trotwood brought her hand with a decided thump upon the kitchen table, thereby scattering a dozen or more rosy cheeked apples upon the floor. Mrs. Trotwood bad quite forgotten that she was a deacon's wife when she lost her temper in the midst of making apple dump lings for the good man’s supper. “ B»t, auntie, I love him,” was the apology, given while a soft hlush rose to the girls face. “Love him? Fiddlesticks! Don't talk to me about love!’ And again Mrs. Trot wood’s gray eyes (lashed disapproval. Tall, thin, hard featured, the deacon's wife was a woman from whom little mercy could be expected ; still, within her heart this xshihllcss woman built a shrine, the idol of which was Hetty, the child of her dead sister. Her life had one object in vie w—to see Hetty a great lady. She gave the girl the advantages of an excellent education. Her wardrobe far outshone that of the neighboring farmers’ daughters. It was the intention of Mrs. Trotwood to make her neice heiress to her wealth, of which she possessed a goodly amount.

Hetty was tho acknowledged belle for miles around. Never was there a gathering of young folks without her presence, and many a country swain would have sacrificed considerable for a smile of encouragement. She was the apple of the deacon's eye. “ Mother,” he would say to his good wife,

“I must send little Hetty to brother John's in the city, or else she will be falling in love with some great hulking country fellow, not half good enough for her." “Nonsense 1” would his wife reply. “The chibl never dreams of such a tiling.” But tho child did fall in love, and with none other than the student of the village doctor, handsome, good-hearted, penniless Dick Barry; and this falling in love was the cause of Mrs. Trotwood’s burst of indignation.

“To think of it 1” she would say. “Our Hetty marrying this penniless youth 1” The old lady's fondest hopes, all her air castles, would be completely cast to the earth should tliis marriage ever take place. The apple dumplings proved a failure. The deacon ami his wife ate their meal in silence. Hetty was not present. She was having a good cry down by the garden gate. Very lovely she looked in the dim twilight, in a dress of soft texture clinging in graceful folds to a round, shapely figure. \Vas it any wonder that Dick Barry lost his heart to her? The young man, who had resolved never to take unto himself a wife until ho had attained the dignity of M. D., and made his mark in the world, forgot his firm resolu-

He was coming up the long country road, whistling a merry tune. He met his lady love with a kiss.

“0 Dick 1" sobbed Hetty. “Aunt Hepsy says I can never, never marry yon I” And she cried as if her heart would break. Poor Dick tried to console her as best he could, departing, at length, reassured of the

girl’s love and confiencc. Hetty returned to the house, wrote a dainty little note, left it on the deacon’s desk and kissed the old couple so fondly that they began to think they were unjust in their accusations ; that the dear child would never so far forget them as to marry without their consent. But the little note found the

following morning told its own story. | Then the country for miles around rang with gossip ; “ The deacon's niece had run away and married Dick Barry.” Mrs. Trotwood closed her heart, putting away the books, birds and dainty little treasures belonging to her wayward niece, never again mentioning her name. The deacon, grown suddenly old, missed his darling, There was no one now to get his slippers or kiss away his cares and troubles. Many a timd he was tempted to pay a visit to the little white cottage down the road, the cottage where Dick Barry took his bride ; but the thought of .his wife’s wrath kept him awav.

To the young couple adversity and cares had come. Poverty had entered the door, but love had never flown out of the window. Dick was obliged to give up for a time his cherished hope of entering his profession ; he worked in the mill, in the evening devoting his leisure hours to study. The young wife bore with patience her cares, although the roses were leaving her face. A baby came,almost unwelcome. Poverty casts-a damper over all our joys. The old village doctor shook his head, almost despairing of the young mother’s life. Her mind wandered ; she calledjtor Aunt Hepsey. The young husband, struggling with pride, sent for Mrs. Trotwood, but the old lady was determined, and refused to see her niece. When the white crape emblem of sorrow hung upon the cottage door she was still unmoved, though she watched from behind her drawn curtains the village sexton carry away the wee coffin that held Hetty’s baby. Then the country folk declared that old Hepsey Trotwood was cruel and unjust. Days, weeks, months, years, rolled by without bringing reconciliation. Hetty was the mother of a second baby. The young woman frequently passed her aunt’s house, and the little one, who was beginning to talk, would ask her who lived in “ the pretty house,” referring to the deacon’s. On learning that it was “ grandma’s,” she would laugh with delight. One day in early June, Hetty, with her household cares, forgot to closely watch baby, who wandered down the road in the direction of the deacon’s house. Mis. Trotwood sat by the open widow. It was her sixtieth birthday. “ Dear me 1” she sighed. How old lam getting—sixty—and the deacon is five years older; time to begin to think of passing away. If the Lord calls the deacon first, I

shall be left alone—alone!” And the womanbentherheadinsorrow. “ If Hcttvhad

only married to suit me—and yet Dick seems to be a clever fel low, after all. How cruel I have been, after all these years 1 Will Hetty forgive me now? Yet she blighted my fondest hopes," she murmured, while the old stern look stoic over her face.

Suddenly the patter of little feet was hoard, and Mrs. Trotwood saw standing in the open doorway a little child, a lovely, laughing baby, with hair like spun gold and eyes as blue as blue hyacinths—eyes that she had seen the counterpart of many a time, and which left no room for doubting that before her stood Hetty's baby. 11 Is you grandma /” asked the child in a sweet, lisping tone. " Grandma ” The word was like magic to the childless heart. Then Hensy Trotwood did what she had not done for years—cried as if her heart would break. One cannot close the doorway of his heart against the pleadings of a little child. Hepsy Trotwood had a heart, after all.

Five years have passed. The deacon's family and Hetty arc reunited. Prosperity has come to the young folks ; Dick’s hopes are realized. On the front door of one of the most substantial dwellings of the town is a glistening door-plate bearing the name : Hichard Barry, M.D. Mrs. Trotwood has made a new will, by which she will leave her entire fortune to Hetty’s baby.

Potato Rissoles. Mix with mashed potatoes, salt, pepper, and butter to taste. Add a well beaten egg to bind. Make into small balls, egg and breadcrumb these, and fry in boiling dripping to a golden brown color. Drain well on paper and serve hot.