The 
 
 Barnes Tamilv 
 
 A SMILE ON EVERY PAGE 
 
 BY 
 
 FLORENCE S. CRAIG 
 
 1910 
 
 THE NEUNER COMPANY PRESS 
 Los Angeles
 
 BY FLORENCE S. CRAIG 
 Copyrighted 1910
 
 (Tilts' little ston> 
 
 is lobinglp oebicateb 
 
 to tijr sciiool cfjtlbren of America
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 Who has not heard of "The Barnes Family?" All 
 of us know them, if we will just think a moment. They 
 may live across the street from you, or just around the 
 corner. 
 
 What little boy who reads these pages has not a 
 friend like Willie or Johnny Barnes and what little 
 girl does not know a Tildy or a Minnie? 
 
 And poor Mrs. Barnes, worn out little mother, you 
 may hear her any day from your own front porch, call 
 ing out to her runaway children. 
 
 Oh yes, we all know Mrs. Barnes and her family.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE RUNAWAYS 
 
 "Spare the rod and spoil the child," said Solomon. 
 "Give him a capsule," says Mrs. Barnes. 
 
 "Johnny! Oh Johnny! Johnny Barn-es-es-s-s !" 
 called the little woman standing in the kitchen doorway, 
 shading her eyes with her hand. 
 
 No answer coming, Mrs. Barnes turned disconsol 
 ately back into the kitchen, muttering to herself, "I wish 
 I could give Johnny a capsule every morning that would 
 keep him out of mischief all day. It seems to me that 
 in this age of patent medicines there ought to be some 
 thing discovered that would make children mind." 
 
 Walking over to the stove, she began to stir some 
 fruit that was boiling in a kettle. 
 
 "I see Johnny climbing over Bob Dale's fence," cried 
 Tildy, her eldest daughter. 
 
 "Didn't I tell him I would whip him if he went over 
 there again ! I'll just have to wear him out." 
 
 "It don't do any good to tell him," said Tildy, phil 
 osophically, as she stepped out of doors to give some 
 scraps to the dog. 
 
 "Ma, oh Ma ! Willie's pumping water in his new 
 straw hat !" she called back. 
 
 "Whatever am I to do !" exclaimed Mrs. Barnes, 
 sinking down on a chair and wiping her damp hands 
 on her apron. "All this fruit to put up, and the children 
 a running me wild."
 
 g THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "The baby's woke up, I hear him crying," said Tildy 
 as she entered the house. 
 
 "Let him cry it's good for him," said Mrs. Barnes 
 desperately, still stirring the boiling fruit. Suddenly she 
 threw up her hands with the dripping spoon and ex 
 claimed, "Where's Minnie?" 
 
 Tildy, who had started to get the baby, paused with 
 her hand on the door, a startled look coming into her face, 
 "Why, I haven't seen her since dinner." 
 
 "She's run off, of course, and there's no telling where 
 she's gone to. Do something, Tildy! Tell Willie to 
 run over to Mrs. Nash's and see if she's there ; and I'll 
 get the baby and if he don't find her there, to go on 
 down to Mrs. Cole's and not to come back till he gets 
 her." 
 
 After these incoherent directions, Mrs. Barnes hur 
 ried to the assistance of the crying baby, while Tildy 
 went to call the erring Willie, who was just emptying 
 the last drop of water from his new hat. 
 
 "Willie ! Willie ! Ma says you are to go to Mrs. 
 Nash's and Mrs. Cole's and hunt Minnie she's run off 
 and not come home till you get her." 
 
 Willie, nothing loath to take a trip himself, put the 
 wet hat on his curly head and started in quest of his 
 sister. 
 
 Tildy, re-entering the kitchen, advanced toward the 
 stove where the raspberries were boiling, ready to be 
 canned. 
 
 "Tildy," came her mother's voice in a sort of a chorus 
 with the baby's crying, "turn that fire out under the 
 berries. I believe the baby's got the colic or swallowed 
 something. He's a-gagging and crying dreadful." 
 
 Tildy lost no time in going to her mother's assist-
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 9 
 
 ance where the baby was screaming at the top of its 
 voice, its fists doubled tight, its eyes closed, and appar 
 ently breathing with difficulty. 
 
 "Let's shake him !" cried Tildy, frightened. 
 
 They shook him and turned him this way and that, 
 and upside down, and stood him on his head, and held 
 him by his heels, and beat him on the back and still 
 he cried and struggled, though rather faint and weak. 
 
 "There's something dreadful the matter with him. 
 It can't be colic ! I believe he's turning purple," cried 
 Mrs. Barnes, holding him up high in her arms to give 
 him a chance for breath. 
 
 "Look, ma, look! It's that string around his neck, 
 got pulled tight. Johnny tied it on him this morning." 
 
 "Where's the scissors? Get 'em quick, it'll choke 
 him to death," cried Mrs. Barnes. 
 
 Tildy had a great time finding the scissors, but 
 finally the string was cut and the baby speedily re 
 covered. 
 
 "Poor little thing," said his mother, "I guess Johnny 
 tied that string around his neck with the button on it 
 for him to play with. Now, Tildy, we'll see what we 
 can do with the fruit. Set the baby in his highchair 
 and give him a biscuit. Dear, dear ! the evening's half 
 gone and I've done nothing yet." 
 
 "Hadn't I better wash the dinner dishes, ma? It 
 won't be long till supper time." 
 
 "I expect you had, and after that you can spread 
 up the beds I left 'em to air." 
 
 Mrs. Barnes worked with the fruit and watched the 
 baby, not realizing how time was flying until the recreant 
 Johnny made his appearance. 
 
 "Johnny Barnes, aren't you ashamed to look me in
 
 JO THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 the face, when I told you not to go out of the yard 
 again ?" 
 
 "Well, I forgot, and Bob called me" 
 
 "Oh yes, you have to obey Bob ; you run right along 
 when Bob calls you, but when I want you, you can't be 
 found." 
 
 "I-I'm sorry " Johnny shuffled uneasily from one 
 foot to the other, and picked his fingers nervously, "I'll 
 try to remember, but where's Willie?" adroitly chang 
 ing the subject. 
 
 "Willie law me!" and the unhappy mother raised 
 her preserving spoon in the air and gasped. 
 
 "Tildy, Tildy, what's become of them children? I 
 forgot all about 'em." 
 
 The eldest daughter came into the room, saying, 
 "They ought to be here by this time. Send Johnny after 
 them." 
 
 "Well !" eyeing the boy over hurriedly. "Johnny 
 ought to have a whipping if I keep my word but I 
 haven't time to whip him now. So let him go and get the 
 children. I'll try to remember it before bed-time." 
 
 "Where are they at?" asked Johnny, looking some 
 what relieved, and yet a little anxious. 
 
 "How do I know? Go to Mrs. Nash's first, and then 
 Mrs. Cole's Tildy! Tildy! the baby's choking again. 
 See what he's got in his mouth !" 
 
 Tildy rushed toward the gagging infant and ex 
 tracted from his mouth a white marble she had given 
 him to play with. 
 
 "There now, don't give him any more marbles or 
 anything else he can choke on. It looks like he's bound 
 to choke before the day is ended. I never had such a
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 11 
 
 time. If anything happens to the children, your father 
 always blames me, and I'm just as careful as can be." 
 
 Johnny, having taken his departure, Mrs. Barnes 
 again turned her attention to the fruit, while Tildy saun 
 tered out into the back yard with the baby. 
 
 The sun was getting low as the weary housewife 
 put away her last jar of berries, and stepping to the 
 kitchen door, saw her daughter Tildy, her one solace, 
 comfort and help, softly crooning the baby to sleep. 
 
 "Sh, sh," putting up her hand in warning, lest her 
 mother should wake the child. 
 
 "Wait, I'll fix his crib," said Mrs. Barnes, stepping 
 softly in front of the little nurse as she carried her charge 
 into the house. 
 
 "Isn't he sweet?" whispered Tildy, looking lovingly 
 down upon her baby brother as he lay asleep on his 
 pillow. 
 
 "I believe he's the prettiest child I've got," said Mrs. 
 Barnes adoringly, without any thought of the child she 
 was addressing. 
 
 "No, Minnie's the prettiest," said Tildy. 
 
 Minnie! oh where is she? Where are they all 
 all the children?" wailed Mrs. Barnes, a flood of recol 
 lection coming over her. "They're all gone !" 
 
 "Why ma, where can they be? I'll go after them," 
 said Tildy ; and scarcely waiting for an answer from her 
 bewildered mother, she snatched her sunbonnet and left 
 the house. 
 
 "There's no use in worrying, I know Tildy'll find 
 them, and I'd just as well get supper," mused Mrs. 
 Barnes, philosophically. 
 
 Meanwhile Tildy was running down the sidewalk 
 toward the home of Mrs. Nash, her bonnet well over her
 
 12 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 eyes, intent over the object of her journey, and not 
 observing, ran against a man who was coming toward 
 her. 
 
 "Hi, Tildy, excuse me! What's the matter now? 
 What's your hurry?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Howard the children have all run off, 
 all but the baby!" 
 
 "Well," quizzically, "and you seem to be running 
 off too." 
 
 "I'm I'm going after them. Have you seen any of 
 them anywhere?" 
 
 "Not a one, but I'll look out for the baby as I 
 go by." 
 
 Mr. Howard was a neighbor, who knew the peculiar 
 ities of the Barnes children and was often entertained 
 by their remarkable escapades. When an unusual com 
 motion was heard in the street, when the chickens were 
 squawking or dogs barking, "It's the Barnes children," 
 his wife would say, and think no more about it. 
 
 But sometimes matters would reach such a crisis as 
 to demand investigation ; for instance, when Willie got 
 into the cow-lot and the yearling calf ran him around 
 and butted at him until he got caught between two 
 planks in the fence, as he tried to make his escape. 
 On another occasion, Mrs. Howard's nerves had received 
 quite a shock by hearing a most strange and unearthly 
 noise close by her bed-room window. It was something 
 between a warwhoop and a gurgle, and repeated several 
 times. Afraid to put her head out of the window, she 
 rushed around the house and saw Johnny Barnes stand 
 ing in a listening attitude with his hands to his mouth 
 like a horn. "What on earth are you doing, Johnny 
 Barnes?" she asked.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 13 
 
 "It's a call, I'm a calling Bob Dale. That's the way 
 we call." 
 
 As Tildy neared the Nash residence, she neither saw 
 nor heard anything of the children. Approaching the 
 open door of the house, she saw Mrs. Nash sitting by the 
 window, sewing in hand. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Nash, have you seen anything of the 
 children? They're all gone!" exclaimed Tildy. 
 
 "Minnie was here early in the afternoon and I sup 
 posed she had gone home till Willie and Johnny came 
 after her." 
 
 "But where are they where do you suppose they 
 are?" broke in Tildy hurriedly. 
 
 "They're probably over to Mrs. Dale's, playing with 
 the children." 
 
 Without waiting to parley further, the child started 
 down the street almost on a run. She expected to hear 
 shouting and laughing as she neared the Dale premises, 
 but again she was disappointed. The front door was 
 closed and there was no sign of the family being at home. 
 Nevertheless she knocked loudly and stood hopelessly 
 waiting. Finally she went around to the back porch and 
 found all closed up there. 
 
 "Of course they're not here," she murmured to her 
 self, "but where can they be? I don't believe they'd go 
 anywhere else. I might try Mrs. Baker's, but I don't 
 see how Minnie could ever find her way over there 
 and what's become of Willie and Johnny?" 
 
 Tildy was becoming alarmed. 
 
 It was a quarter of a mile to Mrs. Baker's, who 
 lived on the outskirts of the town, but the anxious child 
 lost little time in making the distance; the thought of
 
 14 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 the night coming on and the children lost, lent wings 
 to her feet. 
 
 Long before she reached Mrs. Baker's yard, she 
 strained her eyes to see if there were children in it, 
 but as before, was doomed to disappointment. The 
 house door was also closed, there was no sound about 
 the place her heart sank. 
 
 "There is no use looking in the back yard, but I'll 
 try it anyway," she thought. 
 
 Around the house she walked, out toward the stable, 
 down through the orchard, but no sign of the children. 
 
 "Whatever am I to do?" she said, using her mother's 
 expression ; and in desperation she raised her voice and 
 cried as loud as she could. 
 
 "Johnny! Willie! Minnie!" 
 
 No answer. Again she called, louder than before, 
 thinking they might be in the timber by the river that 
 ran not far from that place. 
 
 And then the thought of the river terrified her. It 
 was a small but treacherous stream that ran not far from 
 the town. 
 
 "Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!" she called again, run 
 ning into the road and starting toward the river. 
 
 She was so much excited she did not see a lady ap 
 proaching till she heard 
 
 "Tildy ! Tildy !" 
 
 Gasping for breath, the girl stopped. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Baker, is that you? Where's the chil 
 dren? I'm hunting them. Do you know anything about 
 them?" 
 
 "Why, no, I've been away all afternoon, and left 
 Harry and Carrie to keep house. Aren't they home?"
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 15 
 
 "No, nobody's there and I've called and called 
 and maybe they've gone to the river." 
 
 Mrs. Baker's face took on an anxious expression. 
 
 "I'm afraid they have. They found an old leaky 
 skiff down by the creek yesterday, and they may have 
 gone there to play. They begged to go this morning." 
 
 The creek was about a quarter of a mile from the 
 house; further on down it emptied into the river. 
 
 Without more ado they both started in that direc 
 tion. Tildy relating on the way how Minnie happened 
 to run off, and Johnny and Willie were sent after her. 
 
 "They may not be there, Mrs. Baker," said Tildy, 
 "and what will I do if they are not?" 
 
 "Hush, child, you'll find them somewhere. I cau 
 tioned my children to stay about the house, never dream 
 ing they would go down to that old skiff when I was 
 away but as you say, they may not be there." 
 
 Just as they reached the timber, the sound of child 
 ish voices reached them. 
 
 "They're there!" cried Tildy. "Oh, if they're just 
 not drowned !" 
 
 "They're not drowned, or they wouldn't be hollowing 
 like that," said Mrs. Baker, increasing her pace. 
 
 Then the sight of the children came before them in 
 the dim light of the after sunset; three of them seated 
 in the old skiff, two hauling it down-stream. Little 
 Minnie had begun to cry, but the rest were shouting 
 with laughter. 
 
 "Harry Baker !" called the irate mother. 
 
 At the sound of her voice the shouting ceased, and 
 all the little faces, full of consternation and dismay, not 
 to say fear, were turned toward them. The two boys
 
 16 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 stopped towing the boat, and all were silent, except 
 little Minnie, who still cried feebly. 
 
 "Oh, Johnny," cried Tildy, rushing to the water's 
 edge, "why didn't you bring the children home ? Mother'll 
 be scared to death." 
 
 Johnny made no answer, but hauled the boat to 
 shore, where the children scrambled out, forgetting in 
 their haste all about Minnie till Tildy called them to carry 
 her. 
 
 "Oh Tildy I's glad 'oo turn. I fraid of water," 
 cried Minnie, hiding her face in her sister's skirts. 
 
 "Harry and Carrie Baker, didn't I tell you to stay 
 around the house till I came home?" 
 
 No answer was given, but two little heads hung 
 very low, and the party of condemned looking children 
 turned their reluctant steps homeward. 
 
 Little Minnie cried as the darkness came on, and 
 Johnny and Tildy took turn about carrying her. 
 
 "Whatever made you boys go down there?" asked 
 Tildy, putting Minnie down so she could rest and breathe 
 a bit. 
 
 "Well, I went to Mrs. Nash's, and she said she 
 sposed Willie an' Minnie wuz at Mrs. Cole's, an' I went 
 there, an' they wuzn't nobody to home, an' then I thought 
 I'd go to Mrs. Baker's, an' there they wuz just startin' 
 down to see the skiff, an' I went along an' an'" 
 
 "There's Pa now, coming to hunt us," said Tildy, 
 as a tall man, dressed in laboring clothes, came suddenly 
 into view, and back of him a few yards, was Mrs. Barnes 
 carrying the baby. 
 
 "What's the matter? Where have you been?" he 
 cried, reaching out his arms to Minnie, who gave a glad 
 cry and hugged him close.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 17 
 
 Just then Mr. Howard, who had heard of the trouble, 
 and started out as one of a searching party, arrived upon 
 the scene. 
 
 "Rounded 'em all up, have you? Where did you 
 find 'em, Tildy?" he asked. 
 
 "Down at the creek in the skiff," she replied, and 
 then followed explanations on the homeward way. 
 
 "And to think I sent one child after another till 
 they were all gone, and me and the baby had to go and 
 hunt them," observed Mrs. Barnes to nobody in par 
 ticular. 
 
 "It was certainly a case of the whole family," said 
 Mr. Howard, as he courteously opened the Barnes gate 
 for the procession to pass through; but Johnny and 
 Willie hung back. 
 
 "Aren't you going in?" asked Mr. Howard. 
 
 "They'd better come in," said Pa Barnes. 
 
 "I owe Johnny two now," sighed Ma Barnes. 
 
 "Be sure and say your prayers tonight, boys," called 
 back Mr. Howard, as he wended his way to his domicile 
 next door.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BABY 
 
 Another baby Barnes had arrived in the home nest. 
 not that the nest was very spacious or well feathered 
 not that Mrs. Barnes needed another baby, or had time 
 or talent to devote to it; but there it was, not to be 
 denied, as fine and healthy an infant as if it had been the 
 only heir of a millionaire. 
 
 Tildy adored it. Her little mother heart was big 
 enough for the whole family, no matter how much it 
 multiplied, and her childish feet never grew weary of 
 waiting on her mother and running down the other 
 children. 
 
 Of course they had a hired girl, or rather a hired 
 maiden lady, who said she would come and look after 
 the children and cook, but of course she couldn't be 
 expected to nurse a case of that kind. So Mrs. Howard 
 came over every day and washed and dressed the baby, 
 and made Mrs. Barnes comfortable. 
 
 Miss Abbie Dobbs had lived in the little town so 
 long and worked in so many families that she seemed 
 to belong to the place as a sort of public charge. When 
 any one was sick or extra help needed for an extra 
 occasion, "Send for Miss Abbie," was the cry. And so 
 she was passed around from place to place, working for 
 small wages and giving indifferent service, not being 
 skilled in any way. Her age was an uncertainty that 
 no one dared to speak about. In appearance she was
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 19 
 
 lean and lank; her hair was sprinkled with gray and 
 worn in a knot at the back of her head. She was low- 
 spirited, good hearted and faithful, but slow. She had 
 to rise at four o'clock in the morning in order to get Mr. 
 Barnes' breakfast ready by six. 
 
 "Ma, I can't find Minnie's stocking, and Willie won't 
 button his shoes," said Tildy one morning while Mrs. 
 Barnes was still convalescent, and her eldest child was 
 trying to get the younger ones dressed for breakfast. 
 
 "Children, what in the world ails you this morning? 
 You've been an hour trying to dress, I do believe, and 
 the baby," here she checked herself, "I mean little Teddy 
 we must stop calling him the baby now will wake 
 up in a few minutes and then Tildy can't take him 
 unless you are ready for breakfast." 
 
 "The biscuits are getting cold," said Miss Abbie, 
 poking her head in at the door, as a gentle reminder 
 that she was tired of waiting breakfast for them, the 
 father having gone to his work an hour ago. 
 
 "Yes, we're coming, Miss Abbie," said Tildy; but 
 just then Teddy awoke and raised a battle cry. 
 
 "There now, Tildy, I told you so," said her parent. 
 
 "I'll take him, Mrs. Barnes," said Miss Abbie, "I'm 
 not handy with children, but I can make out with 'em 
 once in a while. Are these his clothes?" taking up a 
 little bundle of small wear that lay on a chair. 
 
 Teddy was not familiar with Miss Abbie, and con 
 tinued to cry at the top of his voice. 
 
 "It seems like I can't get his arms in the sleeves, 
 he stiffens and crooks 'em up so and oh, he's kicking 
 and clawing me !" 
 
 Teddy was literally clawing and pounding Miss 
 Abbie's face, with his plump fists.
 
 JO THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 \Yhatever will you do with him? Call Tildy, you 
 can't dress him," cried the distracted mother. 
 
 "No, let Tildy eat her breakfast. I've got his sleeve 
 
 OK BOW," 
 
 Finally the warlike Teddy calmed down sufficiently 
 to be dressed and placed in his high-chair, where he was 
 given a little tin dish of oatmeal, which he began to eat 
 with a spoon, and ended by feeding himself with his 
 hands and turning the plate over his head. 
 
 Those were busy daj 7 s at the Barnes home and TUdy 
 had to be kept ont of school for two weeks, 
 
 *I do believe the children would run me wild and 
 get burnt up, if it wasn't for Tildy," said Mrs, Barnes, 
 adding, "Miss Abbie is good, but she's so stow." 
 
 la time the mother was able to be about and resume 
 her household duties; that is, in part, for Miss Abbie 
 still remained for her keep, not having any other place 
 offered her. She really made herself very useful, develop 
 ing surprising ability in the care and managemer: 
 tie children, for a person "who was not handy with 'em," 
 as she expressed it. Teddy was the only one who resisted 
 her overtures, and he was very excusable, considering that 
 lie little nose was out of joint, and he had so recently 
 resigned his right of babyhood and his place in bed. 
 
 Minnie followed Miss Abbie about, regarding 
 with real affection, often climbing up into her lap and 
 "picking Ac wrinkles out of her face," as she termed it. 
 
 **AVhat makes 'oo cry?" she asked one day, glancing 
 np t Miss Abbie when she happened to be in one of 
 her Icm-spirited moods. 
 
 *<0fc boney, Tm just lone and lorn," 
 
 "TOnl's that? Who made yon that?" she seemed 
 :hink someone was to blame for it.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 21 
 
 "Nobody, that's what's the matter there's nobody, 
 nobody cares." 
 
 "Nobody," the child looked at her wonderingly, 
 "why, there's somebody, they's me," and understanding 
 through intuition, not reason, the child laid her little 
 plump cheek upon Miss Abbie's withered neck, and the 
 two sat there in each other's arms, in mute sympathy. 
 
 About this time they all took the measles; and the 
 Barnes home was turned into a temporary hospital. 
 First one, then another came down with it. It was 
 then that Miss Abbie proved her usefulness. Her never 
 ending patience and slow faithfulness came in very oppor 
 tunely. It was quite four weeks before the children were 
 back in school ; and they had hardly gotten well estab 
 lished in their lessons when w r hooping-cough again as 
 signed them to the house. 
 
 ''Whatever is to become of us, I don't know," said 
 Mrs. Barnes. "First it's the baby, then the measles and 
 then the whooping-cough." 
 
 "But it might be worse, ma," observed Tildy, who 
 never forgot her blessings. 
 
 "Yes, it might be w r orse, and it might be better, and 
 the baby seems to have the colic the whole enduring 
 time." 
 
 "Johnny is out playing in the snow," called out Miss 
 Abbie, poking her head in at the sitting room door. 
 
 "And him a coughing his head off every night. Call 
 him in here, Miss Abbie! I've just got to wear him 
 out." 
 
 "Johnny Barnes, do you w*ant to die with the whoop 
 ing-cough?" asked his mother, as he came into the house 
 a moment afterwards. 
 
 Johnny didn't say whether he'd like to go with that
 
 22 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 disease or some other, but he kicked the snow off his 
 shoes on the carpet, and had to sit in a corner back of the 
 stove for half an hour, as an act of penance. 
 
 Willie, meantime, had busied himself making a train 
 of cars out of the dining-room chairs. They were turned 
 down on the floor, the legs and backs tied together, and 
 Minnie perched on top as a passenger. 
 
 "Puff, Puff! Puff!" cried Willie, trying to pull the 
 whole train across the floor, and then he had to stop 
 and cough a while, Minnie joining in, and little Teddy, 
 who had just woke up and toddled into the room, also 
 began to cough it was a dreadful chorus. 
 
 "Dear, dear, just listen to the children cough !" ex 
 claimed Mrs. Barnes. "They've all got to take some 
 horehound syrup. I forgot to give it to 'em this 
 morning." 
 
 She believed in simple, old fashioned remedies and 
 had brewed some very bitter tea, thickening it with su 
 gar, as soon as their malady developed. 
 
 "Miss Abbie, bring me that can of syrup off the 
 kitchen shelf. Here Johnny, come out of that corner and 
 drink this horehound, and be a good boy the rest of the 
 day, or I'll have to wear you out." 
 
 Johnny did as he was told, making a very wry face 
 at swallowing, but it took considerable coaxing and 
 threatening to get the dose down the others, little Ted 
 resisting with all his might. 
 
 Presently the chair cars were running again on 
 schedule time, Johnny as engineer, Willie, conductor, and 
 Minnie and Teddy, passengers. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes, who had taken the sleeping babe to 
 her family bedroom and closed the door, heard very little 
 of the noise until her attention was attracted by an
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 23 
 
 awful shriek from Teddy, who had fallen off the back car 
 and nearly broken his nose. 
 
 "What's the matter? Who hurt him?" cried Mrs. 
 Barnes, appearing on the scene at that moment. 
 
 "He ain't hurt much; he just rolled off the chair." 
 
 But Teddy strangled and coughed for about five 
 minutes before his mother got him quieted. Meantime 
 the cars began running again but with rather subdued 
 puffing. 
 
 'Tuff! Puff! Puff!" went Johnny. 
 
 "Choo ! Choo ! Choo !" went Willie. Then forgetting 
 his caution, he gave a shrill whistle. 
 
 But that was his last one. His mother's hand came 
 forcibly across his mouth. 
 
 "Stop that noise ! You'll wake the baby. Untie 
 those chairs and stand them up straight. I've a notion 
 to whip every one of you. It's dreadful to have you 
 bottled up in a house like this." 
 
 "You won't let us go out of doors," ventured Johnny. 
 
 "Don't talk back at me, Johnny Barnes ; whatever 
 I'm to do with you children I don't know. I'll just 
 have to turn you over to your father." 
 
 But finally the whooping-cough became a thing of 
 the past, the children returned to school, and the warm, 
 bright days began to whisper of spring. 
 
 And then after all these strenuous times, Mrs. 
 Barnes suddenly remembered that the baby had never 
 been christened. Being so busy, so occupied with other 
 things, they had hardly thought of giving it a name, 
 always referring to it as "the baby." 
 
 All of her other children had been properly and care 
 fully christened, the event being recognized by a dinner,
 
 24 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 when all the available relatives assembled and celebrated 
 the occasion. 
 
 Tildy was the only child who hadn't been named 
 after a noted person, either historical or mythological. 
 Matilda Ann was named after Mrs. Barnes' mother. 
 John Wesley, in honor of the noted divine, William C. 
 was for William the Conqueror, and Minerva repre 
 sented the Goddess of Wisdom, while Teddy overstepped 
 them all when he was christened Theodore Roosevelt. 
 
 Now came the question, what should they name 
 the baby? 
 
 For a week Mrs. Barnes poured over books, eagerly 
 scanned the newspapers and racked her brains with 
 Christian names till she could scarcely sleep, and even 
 dreamed about it one night. 
 
 "Dorothy, Dora, Violet, Margaret, Mary, Rose, 
 Pansy, Ruth, Ru-Ra-Ri " shrieked Mrs. Barnes, beating 
 the bed clothes. 
 
 "Wake up ! wake up ! You're dreaming." Mr. 
 Barnes shook his wife, who awoke suddenly and sat 
 upright in bed. 
 
 "Where's the baby? I've named her." 
 
 "What have you named her?" 
 
 "Dorothy, Dora, Violet Ruth oh, I don't know 
 what it was." 
 
 "Of course you don't. You've been dreaming!" 
 
 And so the baby's name hung in the balance for 
 several days, till one bright morning when Mrs. Barnes 
 read a newspaper article about the charities and great 
 kindliness of Helen Gould. 
 
 "That's it that's her name," said she, rising from 
 her chair so suddenly that Helen Gould almost fell out 
 of her lap.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 25 
 
 "Miss Abbie! Oh Miss Abbie! I've named the 
 baby !" 
 
 Miss Abbie came running in. 
 
 "Oh, have you? Bless its little soul what's its 
 name?" 
 
 "Helen Gould. She's one of the finest women in 
 the world. I hope the baby will be just like her." 
 
 "And rich too. I hope she'll be rich too," broke in 
 Miss Abbie, "and not poor lone and lorn like me." 
 
 "I hope she'll be good, whatever she is oh, Miss 
 Abbie, we'll have a christening dinner and invite in all 
 her kin. We always do, you know, with all the chil 
 dren." 
 
 "When will you have it?" 
 
 "Tomorrow no, day after tomorrow. We'll have to 
 cook tomorrow and send out the invitations."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CHRISTENING 
 
 The Barnes residence was not elegant nor spacious, 
 but it was fairly comfortable. 
 
 There were two good living rooms and a sort of 
 lean-to, containing a small bedroom and a kitchen. The 
 yard was quite large, land being cheap in that locality. 
 There was a garden spot and a cow lot. Several fruit 
 trees and a grape arbor graced the back yard, while a 
 real cedar tree and a lilac bush grew near the front 
 gate. 
 
 Mr. Barnes had labored long and wrought mightily 
 to accumulate all of this and provide for his growing 
 family. 
 
 The morning of the christening dawned bright and 
 balmy. Mrs. Barnes and Miss Abbie were astir at four 
 o'clock, and with their united efforts succeeded in getting 
 thing in a very tangled condition by breakfast time. 
 
 "Is breakfast ready?" asked Mr. Barnes, looking du 
 biously at the table, as he came in from milking. 
 
 "Ready long ago, just keeping it warm on the stove." 
 
 Mrs. Barnes stooped down and opened the oven door. 
 "Law me, Abbie, the biscuits are burnt up!" 
 
 "Biscuits burnt up!" echoed she, "and there ain't 
 no lightbread." 
 
 "Whatever shall I do !" exclaimed Mrs. Barnes, sink 
 ing down on a chair and breathing hard.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 27 
 
 "There's oatmeal," suggested Miss Abbie, "and cold 
 potatoes maybe he could eat that with his meat." 
 
 "Anything, just so I can get to work on time," said 
 Mr. Barnes, who had gone through similar experiences. 
 
 "Oh dear, dear to think I let the bread burn up, 
 and I will have to cook more for the children, and so 
 much to do. Poor Andrew, I couldn't bear to give him 
 such a breakfast if I didn't know he would have a good 
 dinner. Andrew !" calling after him at the door, "do 
 try and get home early. Remember they will all be 
 here." 
 
 The confusion that reigned on the premises for the 
 next few hours was indescribable. 
 
 "Tilly, you and Johnny go over to Mrs. Dale's and 
 borrow some of her dining room chairs. Just hist 'em 
 over the fence out there, and Miss Abbie'll take 'em. 
 Hurry up, too. It's nearly school time." 
 
 Finally the three eldest children were started to 
 school, the three youngest washed and dressed, the house 
 was spick and span, the dinner well on its way Mrs. 
 Barnes began to breathe easily. 
 
 "It's about time some of 'em was here," she ob 
 served, looking at the clock. As if in answer to her 
 words, Mrs. Barnes' sister and her two daughters ap 
 peared at the gate, while a few rods behind them came 
 her husband's nephew and niece. 
 
 "How-de-do, Myranda and Mary and Alice. I 
 thought it was about time you was coming, and here 
 comes Jane and Philip. Give me your bonnet and hats. 
 Better lay your gloves on the mantel out of the children's 
 reach. Dear, dear, I'm so glad it's a pretty day." 
 
 She was talking to all at the same time and giving 
 them a hearty welcome in her breezy, cheery way.
 
 28 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "And why didn't your mother come, Philip?" 
 
 "She and Uncle Joseph will be here before long." 
 
 "Uncle Joseph! you don't mean he's here!" 
 
 "Yes, he came last night." 
 
 "Well, well, I haven't seen him for ten years. Does 
 he look pretty old?" 
 
 "Rather oldish. Been wandering around consider 
 able." 
 
 "It's a pity he don't settle down at his age." 
 
 "Yes, he needs somebody to look after him, but 
 he's so timid he can hardly speak to any one." 
 
 At this point the baby, who was crowing and laugh 
 ing in her crib, was snatched up by her Aunt Myranda, 
 while little Teddy stood with his finger in his mouth 
 behind the bed, positively refusing to cultivate any of his 
 relatives. Minnie was already on her Cousin Philip's 
 knee, telling him about the baby's name. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes took advantage of this opportunity to 
 escape to the kitchen and see how the dinner was com 
 ing on. 
 
 "Abbie, have you tried the hen? Do you think she's 
 getting tender?" 
 
 "Yes ma'am, I've just stuck her with a fork, and she's 
 nearly done." 
 
 "And the sweet potatoes, are they baking?" 
 
 "Just fine. Didn't you say we would have to borrow 
 some of Mrs. Howard's soup plates?" 
 
 "That's so, and I do believe we'll have to have 
 some more table spoons." 
 
 "Must I take a basket?" 
 
 "Yes, take the basket, and you'd better bring a few 
 more sauce dishes and half a dozen napkins. Climb over 
 the back fence. Don't let anybody see you."
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 29 
 
 Miss Abbie did as she was told. The back fence 
 was high, but she got over with surprising alacrity 
 that was, going over with the empty basket. Coming 
 back it was different; so after an ineffectual attempt to 
 climb over with a basket full of dishes, she concluded 
 to go nearer the front yard where the fence was not 
 so high. 
 
 Her sunbonnet was well over her face, and probably 
 she couldn't see good. Anyway, her foot slipped, her 
 dress caught on a nail, and basket, dishes and all came 
 clattering to the ground and there she hung. She 
 couldn't loosen her dress and she couldn't reach the 
 ground. The broken dishes scared her and she began to 
 cry, and say, "whatever shall I do" when lo ! a man 
 stood before her an oldish kind of a man who looked 
 scared himself. 
 
 . "Oh, sir, what shall I do?" cried Miss Abbie, making 
 another frantic effort to free herself. 
 
 He didn't speak, but reaching over the fence where 
 her dress was held by a nail, he freed her so suddenly 
 and unexpectedly that she fell on the basket among the 
 dishes, making an awful clatter and finishing up the 
 wreckage. 
 
 By this time the attention of those in the house 
 had been attracted and the whole party came out, be 
 holding Miss Abbie among the ruins. 
 
 "Why, Abbie Dobbs, whatever is the matter with 
 you?" exclaimed Mrs. Barnes, viewing the scene in 
 consternation. 
 
 "I got caught on the fence," explained Miss Abbie, 
 wringing her hands, the tears running down her face. 
 
 "Well, well, don't cry about it," said the old man 
 who had rescued her.
 
 30 THE BARN-ES FAMILY 
 
 "But I'm so unlucky," wailed she, "everything I do 
 is unlucky," and pulling her bonnet over her face, she 
 ran into the kitchen, while the guests helped Mrs. Barnes 
 pick up the broken china. 
 
 Only about half a dozen pieces were broken after 
 all. 
 
 "Don't cry about it," said Mrs. Barnes, finding Miss 
 Abbie in the little lean-to bedroom still bathed in tears. 
 
 "Oh, whatever is the matter with me? I'm so lone 
 and lorn and unlucky," she wailed. 
 
 "Don't think about that now, come and help me 
 with the dinner. Only a few sauce dishes were broken. 
 I'll buy Mrs. Howard some more." 
 
 Swallowing her sobs, Miss Abbie returned to her 
 neglected dinner, where happily nothing had gone amiss. 
 Presently everything was in readiness, and a very sump 
 tuous and plentiful repast was spread on the board. 
 Boiled chicken and dumplings, roast pork and sweet pota 
 toes, Irish potatoes creamed to a feathery flakiness, corn 
 pudding, macaroni stewed with cheese, cranberry jelly, 
 raspberry jam, with dessert of mince pie and chocolate 
 cake. 
 
 The children, being in a hurry to get back to school, 
 were allowed to eat at the first table with the grown-ups, 
 and did ample justice to the meal. Their manners were 
 fairly good, except that Johnny asked for two pieces of 
 pie and was detected by his mother snatching a second 
 piece of cake as he left the table. 
 
 It was a very long, loud and merry meal, and just 
 at its close, little Helen Gould was held up in her father's 
 arms, her name being officially announced and pro 
 nounced to the guests, and all drank a glass of lemon 
 ade in her honor, wishing her long life and happiness.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 31 
 
 Miss Abbie and Tildy waited on the table till time 
 for the dessert and then, as some of the dishes had to be 
 washed, Mrs. Barnes went to the kitchen to assist. 
 
 "Who is that old man in there that helped me off 
 the fence?" asked Miss Abbie. 
 
 "Why, didn't I tell you? It's Mr.Barnes' Uncle 
 Joseph. He's been roaming around the world all his 
 life. Good enough, but kind-a good for nothing, you 
 know." 
 
 "Ain't he got no family?" 
 
 "Family, I'd think not. He's a bachelor, and scared 
 to death of women." 
 
 Passing him his dessert a few moments later, Miss 
 Abbie looked curiously at her ancient rescuer. His head 
 was slightly bald, his hair iron gray, his forehead and 
 nose very prominent, his expression kindly, but timid. 
 His coat was frayed at the edges, his linen not strictly 
 clean. He seemed shy, never speaking except when some 
 one addressed him, just one of those floating pieces of 
 neglected humanity, having no home, not needed by any 
 one, whose death would leave no gap in any life. 
 
 By four o'clock the guests began to disperse ; by 
 five they were all gone and the christening was over. 
 
 That night, when Helen Gould lay asleep on her 
 mother's bed and Teddy was tucked away in his crib, 
 little Minnie, robed in her nightdress, slipped off to Miss 
 Abbie's lean-to bedroom and found that weary person 
 sitting by the window, looking sad, as was her wont. 
 
 Minnie climbed up in her lap, smoothed her slim 
 face and patted the wrinkles out with a loving hand. 
 Tears unbidden stole from Miss Abbie's eyes. 
 
 "Is you lone and lorn today?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, lone and lorn and unlucky."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PICNIC 
 
 SWEET JUNE 
 
 Come, sweet June, and let me lay 
 
 My head upon thy flowry breast, 
 Pressing my face against 
 
 The flowers I love best. 
 
 Oh! thou art fair, and wondrous is thy power 
 To while away a drowsy summer hour! 
 Seductive is thy smile, and sweet the air 
 Laden with thy perfume everywhere. 
 
 I'll lay me down upon thy leafy lap, 
 And there, amid thy roses, take a nap 
 The deep blue sky a canopy above, 
 The birds and bees crooning out their love. 
 Oh, let me dream of thee, sweet leafy June! 
 My heart and thine keyed up to perfect tune. 
 Wrapped in thy arms, dear, let me dream away 
 The matchless beauty of a summer day. 
 
 Summer had arrived. The lazy, leafy month of 
 June was shedding its sunshine on the little town of 
 Roseville. 
 
 It was an attractive, picturesque spot, located near 
 the banks of a winding stream. Heavy timber grew 
 near the water and huge old forest trees were scattered
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 33 
 
 round about as far as the edge of the rolling prairie 
 land that lay a mile beyond the limits of the town. 
 
 Fish abounded in the little stream, and many a lazy 
 man and truant schoolboy sat on its mossy banks and 
 angled for the finny tribe. Who could blame them? 
 Woods and weather, birds and bees, blue skies and 
 limpid waters, wild roses and green ferns lured them 
 forth. 
 
 "Ma, let's go to the woods tomorrow, all of us, and 
 play like it was a picnic." 
 
 Johnny, who made the suggestion, was sitting on 
 the back porch stemming gooseberries, likewise Willie, 
 while Mrs. Barnes and Miss Abbie were just finishing 
 up the week's washing, having arrived at the rinsing 
 period. 
 
 "Why, I don't know. It is mighty pretty weather." 
 
 "There's the ironing to do," said Miss Abbie. 
 
 "That's so, and I haven't got anything baked. We 
 ate up all the cake Sunday." 
 
 "Did Johnny say picnic?" asked Tildy, appearing 
 upon the scene with the baby in her arms. "Oh, I wish 
 we could go !" 
 
 "I wis we tould go," echoed Minnie. 
 
 "My eye, I wish we could go !" cried Willie, trying 
 to shoot a gooseberry into Johnny's mouth. 
 
 "Well, well,, if you all want to go so bad, maybe 
 we can manage it," said Mrs. Barnes, as she wrung 
 the last garment out of the water. 
 
 "We might iron a few things we need tonight," 
 observed Miss Abbie. 
 
 "And bake a little bit this afternoon," added Mrs. 
 Barnes. 
 
 "Whoop ! Whoop !" cried Johnny.
 
 34 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "But how'll we go?" asked Tildy, the practical. 
 
 "There it is," and Mrs. Barnes set down the clothes 
 basket she was carrying as the question confronted her. 
 
 "Let's walk, and wheel the baby in her buggy," 
 said Willie. 
 
 "What'll we do with Teddy? And Minnie can't 
 walk that far." 
 
 "Carry 'em," said Johnny. 
 
 "Carry those children and all that lunch? We 
 can't do it." 
 
 "Well, let's borrow Mrs. Baker's buggy," said Willie. 
 
 "No, it has only one seat, and she wouldn't like 
 to loan it anyway," replied his mother. 
 
 "There's Mr. Scott's delivery wagon," suggested 
 Johnny. 
 
 "But he uses it every day. That won't do." 
 
 "I don't see no way to go at all," said Miss Abbie 
 disconsolately. 
 
 While Mrs. Barnes and Miss Abbie were hanging 
 out the clothes, the children discussed the question of 
 going over and over again, suggesting every vehicle the 
 small town contained. There was no regular livery barn 
 in the place, and had there been one, Mrs. Barnes would 
 not have felt justified in hiring one for such an occasion. 
 
 As the afternoon wore on, the chances for a picnic 
 the next day looked very slim. 
 
 "Well, I'll bake some pies and cookies anyway," 
 observed Mrs. Barnes, "and maybe we can think out 
 some way by morning." 
 
 The children slept poorly that night, their rest being 
 disturbed by visions of green woods, picnic parties and 
 horses and buggies. Willie was so wrought up over the 
 affair that he talked out in his sleep several times.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 35 
 
 "Whoa there ! Whoa ! Whoa ! The horse is run 
 ning away !" 
 
 "What horse?" cried Johnny, waking up. "Have 
 you got a horse?" 
 
 "I was dreaming we had a horse and was going 
 to the picnic," murmured Willie, sinking upon his pillow 
 again. 
 
 "No such luck," moaned Johnny. 
 
 The morning dawned clear and beautiful, a rosy 
 dawn in a blue sky, a typical June morning. 
 
 "It's so lovely," cried Tildy, standing in the door 
 way after breakfast, "and to think we can't get a horse 
 or wagon or anything. I'd be willing to haul the chil 
 dren in a wheelbarrow myself, if I could." 
 
 "I've got it !" cried Johnny, throwing up his hat and 
 leaping over the porch railing like a deer. 
 
 "Got what, Johnny Barnes? You act like you had 
 something dreadful," said his sister. 
 
 "I know it'll do, and it's all we can do," he ex 
 plained, as if fearing opposition. 
 
 "What'll do? What do you mean?" 
 
 "Mr. Howard's paper cart. He ain't using it now, 
 and it'll hold Minnie and Teddy and the baby, and we'll 
 pull it, turn about." 
 
 "Will that do, ma?" asked Tildy, her mother hav 
 ing come to the door. 
 
 "It'll be a mighty poor do, but I reckon it's all we 
 can do," she replied dubiously. 
 
 So it transpired that Johnny got the cart, a two- 
 wheeled vehicle that Mr. Howard used to carry about 
 his wall paper and other utensils from house to house. 
 It gave ample accommodation for the three little ones 
 and the luncheon, and it was a very happy party that
 
 36 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 started to the woods that morning. Willie and Johnny 
 pulled the cart, as they went through the town, but the 
 others took their turns when they came to the country 
 road. 
 
 A mile and a half from home they came to an idyl 
 lic spot, a gentle, grassy slope, close to the river bank, 
 where giant oaks spread their foliage overhead and shells 
 anfl mossy rocks were scattered along the shores. 
 
 "We'll stop here," said Mrs. Barnes. "I don't be 
 lieve there's no prettier spot on earth." 
 
 So the cart was halted, a quilt was spread upon the 
 ground, on which the baby was placed, together with 
 a lot of playthings which Tildy had thoughtfully brought 
 along. 
 
 Ted and Minnie were soon busy hunting for pretty 
 shells and rocks, while Johnny and Willie, producing 
 their fishing tackle, crawled out on an old log that ex 
 tended far into the river and dropped their hooks into 
 the limpid water. 
 
 "I'll gather some dry sticks to cook dinner with," 
 said Tildy. "Are you sure you brought the frying pan, 
 ma?" 
 
 "Yes, and I do hope the eggs ain't broke. Abbie, 
 hand me that basket." 
 
 All things were well, and luckily, just before dinner, 
 the boys landed three crappies which Mrs. Barnes fried 
 to a finish. The fish and eggs together with the cold 
 edibles, made a sumptuous repast. They were just clear 
 ing away the dinner, when Miss Abbie exclaimed, "Who's 
 that!" 
 
 A tall, shambling figure was seen climbing up the 
 river bank not far away. An old straw hat was well 
 down on his face, and a fishing rod in his hand.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 37 
 
 "Law me, if it ain't Uncle Joe !" 
 
 The exclamation attracted his attention. He looked 
 toward them and paused, as if uncertain whether or not 
 to advance. 
 
 "Come on, Uncle Joe, and have some dinner. We're 
 just clearing it away." 
 
 Slowly he came toward them. He was coatless, and 
 only one gallus supported his faded trousers. 
 
 "Having a picnic?" he asked, taking a dingy ban 
 danna handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his face. 
 
 "Yes, the children would have me come. They 
 caught some fish too, but we et 'em all up." 
 
 "I haven't caught a one this morning," he said. "I'm 
 always unlucky. 
 
 Miss Abbie looked up quickly as he said this, a 
 light of sympathy in her face, but she only said, "Just 
 like me." 
 
 Uncle Joe looked at her curiously as he began to eat, 
 doing full justice to all the remaining food, and Mrs. 
 Barnes inwardly grieved that there wouldn't be a mor 
 sel left, in case the children wanted a piece before they 
 reached home. 
 
 "Where'd the boys catch the fish?" asked Uncle Joe, 
 after he had finished his dinner. 
 
 "Right out there on that log," answered Johnny, 
 "and I bet there's lots more." 
 
 "It does look like a good place. I expect there's a 
 deep pool under there." 
 
 Presently Uncle Joe and the two boys were sitting 
 in a row on the trunk of the old tree silently watching 
 for nibbles. Teddy and the baby went to sleep, and 
 Tildy sat on the bank grieving because she had no fish 
 ing tackle.
 
 38 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "I'll give you my hook," said Uncle Joe, after fish 
 ing for an hour without catching anything. "Maybe 
 you'll be luckier than me." 
 
 Tildy took his place on the log and, to her great 
 delight, soon landed a fine crappie. In her excitement 
 she threw her rod in the air whirling the fish around 
 their heads till it was some time before Uncle Joe could 
 get it off the hook. 
 
 "Oh, oh ! it squirms so. I wouldn't touch it for any 
 thing!" cried Tildy. 
 
 All this noise woke Teddy, but Miss Abbie managed 
 to soothe him to sleep again in her arms. Quiet had 
 hardly been restored when Willie yelled out, "I've got 
 one !" But even as he yelled, he fell and went splash into 
 the water, in the deepest part of the pool. 
 
 "Oh, oh ! Uncle Joe, save him !" cried his mother, 
 rushing frantically to the bank. But even as she spoke, 
 Uncle Joe leaped into the water with the agility of a 
 young man, and by the time Willie had got to the surface 
 for the first time, he had him by the shirt collar, and 
 partly waded, half swam with him to the shore. 
 
 A sorry looking pair they were, but Mrs. Barnes, 
 in her gratitude and excitement, actually hugged them 
 both, and Miss Abbie, who had dropped Ted on the 
 ground, raised her arms for a moment as though she was 
 going to hug them too, then, checking herself, she said, 
 "A brave deed, Mr. Joe," at which he held up his dripping 
 head for a moment and looked quite manly. 
 
 After this there was nothing to do but go home. 
 The day being warm, Willie and his rescuer were not so 
 uncomfortable in their wet clothes, but their appearance 
 was anything but prepossessing. Uncle Joe's clinging 
 clothes brought out the bones and angles in his long, lank
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 39 
 
 figure, and he insisted on pulling the cart, that is, by 
 one shaft, the children taking turn about with the other. 
 Once Johnny dropped his shaft to run after a squirrel, 
 and Miss Abbie took it up, walking quite a distance with 
 Mr. Joe, neither speaking a word. Mrs. Barnes and Tildy 
 walked close behind the vehicle, to keep Teddy from 
 climbing out, as that youngster wanted to walk and kick 
 his feet in the dusty road. Twice they had taken him 
 out, and he would walk nowhere except in the middle 
 of the road where the dust was deep. 
 
 Just before they reached the town Uncle Joe separ 
 ated himself from the party, and took a circuitous route 
 home, the two boys hitching themselves to the cart. 
 
 It was a tired, hungry, but happy little party that 
 halted at the Barnes' front gate, where they proceeded 
 to unload their baggage, which consisted of baskets, 
 buckets, frying pans, Minnie, Teddy, and Helen Gould, 
 who had slept all the way home. 
 
 The cart was returned to Mr. Howard's stable yard 
 and the picnic was over, a perfect success in every way, 
 even including the ducking.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE RECEPTION 
 
 Mrs Nash had sent out cards for a reception real 
 printed cards in stamped envelopes, sent through the 
 mail. Such a thing had never been done in Roseville 
 before. Of course there had been parties, but the invita 
 tions were delivered verbally, or at most written by 
 hand on small note paper. This was to be a grand affair, 
 two weeks' notice having been given so everybody would 
 have time to get ready. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes, of course, had received an invitation 
 and was in a great state of anxiety and excitement. On 
 account of the increasing frequency of her family, she 
 had given very little time or money to dress for several 
 years past. Now the appalling question arose before 
 her what should she wear? 
 
 That question comes to every woman some time in 
 her life, to some daily. It comes to the rich and poor 
 alike, and is about as difficult for one to answer as the 
 other. The rich woman can wear what she pleases, but 
 don't know what pleases her ; the poor woman must wear 
 what she can get, whether it pleases her or not. 
 
 "I don't see how I can afford to buy the goods and 
 hire my dress made too, and I don't see how I can make 
 it myself so it'll look fit to wear. I ain't made anything 
 but children's clothes for so long," sighed Mrs. Barnes. 
 
 "Do you intend to get a silk dress?" asked Miss 
 Abbie, soothingly.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 41 
 
 "Yes, I thought it had better be silk. I never had 
 but one silk dress my wedding dress, and I'd like to 
 have another. It's a dark blue piece I was looking at." 
 
 "If you'll get a good, new pattern, maybe I could 
 help you fit it." 
 
 "Maybe you could. I believe I'll go uptown this 
 morning and buy the piece and we'll try to make out 
 somehow." 
 
 Mrs. Barnes was not the only woman who was 
 studying the subject of dress. All the seamstresses in 
 town were busy, and many were making their own 
 clothes. 
 
 But if all the town was stirred up over the recep 
 tion, what must have been the state of Mrs. Nash's 
 mind the lady who was to give it? She was determined 
 it should be a great success, that no reasonable amount 
 of money or effort should be spared to make it one of 
 the greatest events that had ever taken place in Rose- 
 ville. True, her house was not large. There were only 
 four rooms downstairs and two above, the latter being 
 approached by a very narrow and steep stairway. 
 
 Some of her carpets and furniture were not as fresh 
 as she would like to have had them, but everything 
 looked better by lamplight than by daylight so she had 
 determined to close up the house, pull down the blinds 
 and light the lamps, even if it should be a hot summer 
 afternoon. 
 
 Of course the people would bring their fans and she 
 would serve ice cream to cool them off. 
 
 She was very much disturbed about the music. She 
 must have an orchestra, and there wasn't a soul in Rose- 
 ville who could play any stringed instrument, except old 
 Uncle Joe Barnes, who, back in his youth, had played
 
 42 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 the fiddle for all the country dances, in spite of his ex 
 treme timidity. Finally, after much inquiry, she heard 
 of two men who played the guitar and mandolin. They 
 lived in the next town, but she resolved to hire them at 
 any cost. 
 
 Another cause of grave consideration was the ques 
 tion of gloves. Should she wear them or not at the great 
 hand-shaking? She had always understood that hand 
 shaking was the principal part of a reception. For com 
 fort she much preferred leaving her gloves off, but for 
 style she believed she ought to wear them. They would 
 have to reach to her elbows, as her dress was made with 
 low neck and short sleeves. 
 
 There would be no set programme. Hand-shaking, 
 refreshments and an orchestra were all she had ever 
 heard of as constituting a reception, and she was going 
 to stay by the rule. 
 
 The momentus day arrived, a hot, sultry day in July. 
 Mrs. Barnes was just putting the finishing touches on 
 her new blue silk, and regretting that she had not 
 selected a thin lawn for such a warm day, when a little 
 boy arrived hurriedly at the back door. 
 
 "Mrs. Nash says for Miss Abbie to come right over 
 there ! The girl she got to help her is sick, and the ice 
 cream ain't made, and she's got to have somebody 
 and" 
 
 Miss Abbie looked at Mrs. Barnes. "Must I go? 
 You're so busy." 
 
 "Yes, you'd better. Mrs. Nash needs you more than 
 I do, with all them folks coming. Go right along 
 Tildy'll take care of the children." 
 
 And so it happened that Miss Abbie attended the 
 reception. Shortly after she had gone, Uncle Joe Barnes
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 43 
 
 came sauntering by and stopped for a little chat and 
 play with the children. They thought a great deal of 
 him and looked forward to his coming, for though he 
 said little to them, he seldom forgot to bring them some 
 little gift, a bit of candy or an orange. Sometimes he 
 whittled out tops and whistles, or made them a kite. On 
 this occasion he brought Minnie a pasteboard doll that 
 he had cut out himself. 
 
 "It's a powerful hot day," he said, seating himself 
 on the shady porch. 
 
 "Yes, such a hot day for the reception. And they 
 say Mrs. Nash is going to have the doors and windows 
 closed, and the lamps burning. I'm afraid we can't stand 
 it." 
 
 At this point the little boy who had came after Miss 
 Abbie, appeared again in the same breathless state. 
 
 "Is Mr. Joe here Mr. Joe Barnes oh yes," seeing 
 him on the porch. 
 
 "She say Mrs. Nash says that Mr. Joe is to bring 
 his fiddle and come down to her house this afternoon 
 and play, and Miss Allen will play on the organ with 
 him." 
 
 "What's the matter? I thought she was going to 
 have some men from Knoxburg," interrupted Mrs. 
 Barnes. 
 
 "She says they can't come, and she's got to have 
 some kind of music, and she'll pay him well." 
 
 "Why, I-I ain't been playing much lately, and I'm 
 afraid I couldn't." 
 
 "Yes you can, Uncle Joe. I heard you play beautiful 
 the other evening over to Sarah's. Besides, Mrs. Nash 
 must have somebody, and you're the only one there is.
 
 44 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 I'll dress you up all right. I wonder if you could wear 
 Andrew's new coat?" 
 
 "I-I'm afraid it 'ud be too short." 
 
 Mrs. Barnes did not wait for him to say more but 
 brought out the coat and tried it on him. It was short; 
 the sleeves struck him far above the wrists and the 
 back crawled up on his shoulders. She pulled the sleeves 
 down with all her might and almost swung her full 
 weight on the back to get it below the waist, but it was 
 no use. 
 
 "It won't do, Uncle Joe, but if you'll bring over 
 your best clothes, I'll brush 'em up for you, and put on 
 Andrew's collar and necktie." 
 
 "Why, I can wear Philip's coat. He's tall like me, 
 and sister Sarah'll brush me up. You've got enough to 
 do." 
 
 And so it transpired that Uncle Joe also attended the 
 reception. 
 
 The thermometer registered 95 in the shade at two 
 o'clock when Mrs. Barnes, wearing her blue silk and new 
 straw hat, carrying a parasol over her head, crossed the 
 road going toward her neighbor's house. The closed 
 door and lowered window shades would have indicated 
 to a stranger that no one was at home but in this case 
 it indicated a reception a very warm reception, indeed. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes, contrary to her usual custom of open 
 ing the door and entering the house unannounced, 
 paused, lowered her parasol, adjusted her hat, and 
 knocked. The door was immediately opened, and Mrs. 
 Nash, whom she was accustomed to meet every day in 
 dressing sacque or wrapper, stood before her like a 
 statue, in low-cut dress, short sleeves and elbow gloves.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 45 
 
 Her hair was done up high on her head, an elaborate bow 
 crowning the top. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Barnes. So glad to see you. 
 Just pass upstairs." 
 
 She gave her the tips of her gloved fingers, and 
 Mrs. Barnes, uttering an awed monosylable, climbed up 
 the narrow stairway. 
 
 Mrs. Baker and two or three other ladies were there 
 fanning and mopping their faces with powdered hand 
 kerchiefs. 
 
 "Awfully hot, I'm just sweltering, and the powder 
 won't stay on," said one. 
 
 "My frizzes are all out. I curled them good before 
 I came, but they are straight and wet as a dishrag now." 
 
 "Shall we go down? I wonder if many have come?" 
 
 As they passed down they met two ladies coming 
 up and had to squeeze against the wall to let them by. 
 
 Presently the house was full. Uncle Joe had arrived, 
 also the maiden lady who was to accompany him on the 
 wheezy organ. Uncle Joe's repertoire of musical num 
 bers was neither large, late, nor classical, consisting 
 chiefly of "The Devil's Dream," "The Irish Washer 
 woman," "The Arkansas Traveller," and the like ; but he 
 played them all over and over again as hard as he could, 
 and had at least one admiring listener. Miss Abbie's 
 heart was strangely moved as she heard the stirring notes 
 of the violin, albeit she was busy dishing out the ice 
 cream and cutting cake. And, while alone in the kitchen, 
 the two waiters having taken some trays to the parlors, 
 she was almost taken off her feet by the sudden appear 
 ance of Uncle Joe. 
 
 "Had to come out to get a breath of fresh air and 
 some water," he explained, putting his hand up to his
 
 46 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 collar, which was lying like a wet rag around his neck. 
 
 "Here's a glass right now and and how are they 
 getting on in there?" 
 
 "Mighty slow and hot, and I've nearly played my 
 arm off." 
 
 "Oh, it's beautiful, Mr. Joe. I didn't know you 
 could play so well." 
 
 Just then the waiters returned, and the weary violin 
 ist made his way back to the reception rooms. 
 
 The assembled guests knew each other quite well, 
 were accustomed to meeting almost daily in their every 
 day clothes at their everyday tasks, and under ordinary 
 circumstances, would have made merry and enjoyed 
 themselves, but now the knowledge that they were at 
 a reception not a common party the feel of their new 
 clothes, and the overpowering loftiness and dignity of 
 Mrs. Nash, cast a cloud over their spirits and tied their 
 tongues, so they sat and looked at each other and wished 
 they could go home. 
 
 Finally some one asked the organist, a long, lean 
 maiden with bare skeleton shoulders, to sing "Molly 
 Darling," which she did in a squeaky voice, accompanied 
 by the squeaky organ and Uncle Joe's scratching fiddle. 
 
 Just as the last notes of the song died away, a pain 
 ful silence followed, which was broken by a very un 
 looked-for occurrence. A clatter was heard outside, the 
 front door was thrown open and a small boy barefooted, 
 bareheaded, came running into the room. 
 
 "Why, Willie Barnes, whatever made you " 
 
 But his mother's mortified expression was cut short. 
 
 "Ma, oh ma ! Johnny's killed ! He fell off the wood 
 shed and can't talk." 
 
 "Oh doctor," cried Mrs. Barnes, turning to Dr.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 47 
 
 Mather, who sat near her, "come with me. What in the 
 world did he fall off the woodshed for? Whatever am 
 I to do with the children !" 
 
 Mrs. Barnes and the doctor hurried away; Uncle 
 Joe followed them, and a general stampede occurred 
 the guests in all their finery running across the street to 
 the Barnes' place, Mrs. Nash following in the rear, 
 vainly trying to hold up her ruffled train. 
 
 When they arrived, Johnny was lying with his head 
 in Tildy's lap, gasping for breath, while little Minnie 
 was standing near, crying. The doctor examined the 
 boy, bathed his face with water, raised him to a sit 
 ting posture, and Johnny opened his eyes and began to 
 bieathe naturally. 
 
 "Just knocked the breath out of him," said the doc 
 tor. "Pretty bad jar be all right in a little while." 
 
 But the reception was broken up. The guests went 
 straggling back by twos and threes, got their hats and 
 went home. Mrs. Nash so far forgot herself and her 
 dignity, as to leave the door open when she shook hands 
 with them at parting, and they so far departed from the 
 truth as to tell her they had enjoyed themselves. 
 
 They then rushed home, with all speed to get off 
 their new clothes, sit in the cool shade, and criticise their 
 hostess. 
 
 Mrs. Nash went back to her deserted parlor, sat 
 down on the sofa, clasped her gloved hands, and mur 
 mured to herself, "Those awful Barnes children."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CIRCUS 
 
 The summer days wore on. Vacation was drawing 
 to a close. The school children of Roseville dreaded to 
 think of the second week in September, when bells and 
 books would be calling them from their outdoor sports. 
 Not so the parents. Mothers and fathers, long spent with 
 idle, noisy children, longed for the sound of the school- 
 bell and often wished that the term would last twelve 
 months in the year. 
 
 The children had passed a glad, happy summer in 
 this lovely little western town, surrounded by woods 
 and streams and so convenient for picnics and fishing 
 parties. The boys had put in most of their idle time 
 at ball games and fishing, the girls playing hop-scotch 
 and trundling about the family babies, Roseville being 
 noted for its infant population. 
 
 As a grand climax (a sort of last appearance) of all 
 the summer sport, it was decided by the majority of the 
 kids to have a show, a regular circus, to be held on the 
 common in front of the Barnes residence. 
 
 Johnny Barnes and Bob Dale got up the program, 
 an elaborate affair that would include many actors and 
 some animals, for what would a circus be unless it had 
 animals, a real menagerie. 
 
 "Where'll we get the animals?" asked Bob Dale, 
 talking the matter over.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 49 
 
 "I can bring our cow," said Johnny. She'll lead 
 anywhere, and Willie can ride her." 
 
 "And we can get Thompson's goat and Sam Stoll 
 will bring his white rabbits in a cage, to look like caged 
 animals," observed Bob, brightening up. 
 
 "But you got to do something, got to tumble, to 
 turn summersets, hang from the trapeze and walk ropes. 
 Who'll do that?" querried Johnny. 
 
 "Why all of us kids can do stunts, if we'll practice 
 a few days," replied Bob, encouragingly. 
 
 And so the melee began. For full two weeks, the 
 common in front of the house was alive with shrieking 
 howling, leaping children. By much hard work and 
 some help from the parents, they managed to erect a 
 fairly good trapeze and to stretch a tight rope from one 
 post to another. To procure a tent was impossible, so 
 it had to be an open-air circus. 
 
 On the trapeze and tight rope some boy was con 
 tinually performing, so it was no uncommon thing for 
 Mrs. Barnes to be called several times a day to wipe off 
 the gore and bind up the limbs of some bruised and bleed 
 ing boy. Still the fun went on. Willie Barnes rode the 
 cow from morning till night, practicing all manner of 
 stunts, till that gentle bovine had almost ceased to give 
 milk and wore a bewildered look in her eyes, not know 
 ing why she had been turned from a family cow into a 
 circus horse. 
 
 A chariot race was on the program. The goat was 
 to be hitched to Teddy Barnes' little red wagon. Be 
 sides this, Bob Dale was training his dog, Watch, to 
 do tricks, to stand up on his hind legs, to shake hands 
 and leap over chairs. 
 
 Such contortions as the boys went through were
 
 50 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 terrible to behold, and when Sam Stoll painted his face 
 and acted the wild man from Borneo, it was simply 
 immense. 
 
 "But we ain't got no horse," said Johnny Barnes 
 disconsolately, one day. "A cow's well enough, but a 
 real circus ought to have a real horse." So Mr. Nash 
 very kindly loaned them his old, blind mare, who marched 
 solemnly behind the cow when they practiced the Grand 
 Entry. Johnny Barnes had gotten so that he performed 
 day and night. He couldn't stand on the porch a min 
 ute, talking to his mother, without turning a handspring 
 off the front steps. 
 
 "Say, ma," he said one day, walking into the kit 
 chen on his hands and turning a summersault over the 
 stove, "we want a wild animal. Where'll we get a wild 
 animal?" 
 
 "You're the wildest animal that I know of," said his 
 mother, as she deposited Helen Gould on her highchair, 
 "and I'll tell you now, Johnny Barnes, if this circus busi 
 ness isn't stopped, I am going to have your Pa whip 
 you. I like to see children have fun, but you've passed 
 the limit. When I came from town yesterday, I couldn't 
 find the baby. Willie had taken her out on that big box 
 for a dwarf lady thirty-two years old and twenty-two 
 inches high." 
 
 Just then there was an unearthly scream from the 
 street, and a boy came rushing in breathlessly, to say that 
 Bod Dale had fallen off the tight rope, and Mrs. Barnes, 
 forgetting her exasperation, was soon helping the suffer 
 ing boy to his feet, but he couldn't stand, so was taken 
 home when it was found that a bone was broken. 
 
 The next day when Willie Barnes was doing some 
 extra practicing on the cow, standing on one foot, the
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 51 
 
 other one high in the air, he forgot to guide old Cherry, 
 and she walked right under the tight rope and knocked 
 him off so that he fell on the little red wagon which was 
 directly beneath him, hitched to the goat. Teddy had 
 just climbed into the wagon and the frightened goat 
 started off down th'e road at a fearful pace. Had it not 
 been that Mr. Barnes was just coming home to dinner 
 and stopped the runaway, the child might have fared 
 badly. 
 
 This was the last straw that broke the camel's back, 
 the last act of the circus. Mr. Barnes took the scream 
 ing Teddy in his arms, called Willie, who was wiping the 
 dust out of his mouth, and entering the front gate just 
 as Johnny was standing on his head, he grasped that 
 surprised lad by the seat of his pants, and marched them 
 all into the house. 
 
 "This circus business has got to be stopped !" he 
 thundered, "I'm not going to put up with it another day. 
 Thank heaven school begins next week !" 
 
 He immediately went into the back yard, where he 
 procured an axe, and walking over to the circus ground, 
 proceeded to cut down the posts that held the trapeze and 
 tight ropes, unhitched Teddy's wagon from the hungry 
 goat and led the old cow back into the stable lot. 
 
 "I like to see children have a good time, but blamed 
 if I can stand everything," observed Pa Barnes, as he 
 seated himself at the table. 
 
 "I'm mighty glad you done it," sighed Mrs. Barnes, 
 "I've been nearly crazy for two weeks. Johnny's been 
 standing on his head the whole endurin' time and Willie 
 a setting on the cow." 
 
 "If I catch them at any more of their tricks, I'll
 
 52 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 thrash 'em," said their father, looking severely at the 
 two boys on the opposite side of the table. 
 
 "The cow likes for me to ride her," faltered Willie, 
 tears of disappointment in his eyes. 
 
 "Likes it ! she's stopped giving milk all right, and 
 looks that addled, I'm afraid she's a losing her mind," 
 replied his mother. 
 
 "Johnny had no business starting the circus, ob 
 served Mr. Barnes. 
 
 "He's always up to something," responded his 
 mother, "I wish I could give him a pill or a capsule that 
 would keep him out of mischief." 
 
 "Hickory tea is the best medicine I know of, and 
 I'm a going to give 'em a good dose if I hear any more 
 of this circus." 
 
 "I wish we could get along without whipping them," 
 sighed the little mother, "that woman at the mother's 
 meeting said you ought not to use the rod, but raise 'em 
 with love and kindness." 
 
 "That's very well for mild children like Tildy and 
 Minnie, but these boys need hickory tea and strap oil 
 to keep their spirits down. They thrive on it," replied 
 Pa Barnes, decisively. 
 
 Next Monday morning the welcome and dreaded 
 school bell rang out on the cool, sweet air, and the wild 
 children of Roseville meekly took their places in their 
 respective classes, no worse for the summer vacation or 
 the circus, ready to train for good and useful men and 
 women.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MINNIE 
 
 "A little child shall lead them." 
 
 A cloud hung over the Barnes home. At first it was 
 no bigger than a man's hand, just a little spot on the 
 horizon, but now it had assumed the proportions of a 
 storm-cloud and overshadowed the whole family. 
 
 It was diphtheria that dreaded disease among chil 
 dren. A few raw, rainy days in early October, coming 
 right after hot days in September, a little exposure and 
 neglect, and the germ develops, stealing on little chil 
 dren like a thief in the night. 
 
 Willie first began with a common cold, as his mother 
 thought, but after she had administered horehound tea, 
 hive syrup, alum and honey and other household reme 
 dies with no effect whatever, she called in the doctor, 
 who pronounced the case diptheria. 
 
 Of course the house was quarantined, and every one 
 who dwelt therein, including Miss Abbie and Mr. Barnes, 
 who could ill afford to be idle, with his accumulating 
 family and soaring doctor's bills. 
 
 When a contagious disease develops in a small 
 town, panic seizes the whole community. People will 
 not pass on the stricken street if possible to avoid it, 
 while necessary edibles and supplies are delivered at the 
 front gate with fear and trembling. It is not because 
 people of rural districts are cold hearted or unsym 
 pathetic, but because they are so unaccustomed to such
 
 54 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 things that they become terrified. In cities we pass 
 placarded houses every day and think nothing about it. 
 
 Had it not been for Uncle Joe, the Barnes family 
 might have suffered for attention, but he made himself 
 errand boy, groceryman, and mail carrier. He came as 
 far as the kitchen door, where Miss Abbie received and 
 delivered goods, and gave orders for what they needed. 
 
 Again Miss Abbie proved her worth and devotion. 
 Slow but faithful she gave her labor and her love un 
 stinted, and more than repaid them for all they had done 
 for her. They seemed to have become her own; their 
 troubles were her troubles ; the welfare of the family 
 hung on her heart and occupied her thoughts. She took 
 the mother's and father's place at the bedside when they 
 were weary or otherwise engaged, and ministered to the 
 children with almost as much anxiety as did the parents. 
 
 Johnny and Teddy were the next to follow Willie, 
 even before the prescribed nine days had elapsed, but 
 fortunately, Willie was convalescing as they came down, 
 and though their cases were more violent then his, they 
 were much better in a few days. 
 
 After about three weeks of almost unmitigated care 
 and watching, the three children were out of danger and 
 the others showed no signs of taking it. 
 
 "It's the first night I've felt easy in my mind since 
 Willie took sick," said Mrs. Barnes, who was rocking 
 the baby to sleep while her husband read the paper. 
 
 On the other side of the stove, sat Tildy with the 
 baby in her arms, so little Minnie crept up to Miss Abbie 
 and laid her curly head on her lap. 
 
 "Fse so tired," she said. 
 
 "Tired, of course you're tired. You're sleepy. Get 
 up in my lap."
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 55 
 
 Little Minnie laid her head on Miss Abbie's breast 
 and began to pass her hand over the familiar wrinkles, 
 running her fingers on down her neck in a caressing 
 manner. 
 
 "Does you feel lone and lorn now?" she asked, pat 
 ting out the largest wrinkle on her cheek. 
 
 "Not so lone now. I ain't got time to feel lone 
 when you all need me so much. See, I've got you, and 
 your ma and Tildy have the baby and Teddy." 
 
 "You've got me, ain't you?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, I've got you, and your face seems 
 mighty hot." 
 
 "And I hurt right here," said the child, putting her 
 hand to her throat. 
 
 "What " Miss Abbie stopped rocking, then said 
 in a quiet tone, "Mrs. Barnes, Minnie says her throat 
 hurts her." 
 
 "Don't say that, Abbie! I don't believe I could 
 stand that." 
 
 "Stand what?" asked Minnie. 
 
 "Nothing, honey, nothing, only you had better let 
 me give you something to gargle in your throat." 
 
 And that was the beginning of Minnie's sickness. 
 
 The next morning, Uncle Joe, as usual, came to the 
 kitchen door to take his orders for the day. 
 
 "Quarantine'll soon be off," he remarked, as he came 
 toward Miss Abbie with a smile. 
 
 "No, oh no, Minnie's took now!" 
 
 "Minnie not Minnie?" he cried. 
 
 "Yes the sweetest child of all." 
 
 "You're right; she's the the sweetest of them all." 
 
 Uncle Joe had removed his hat when he first spoke, 
 and now he kept it reverently in his hand, his gaze wan-
 
 56 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 dering far away. Moisture was in his eyes and he blew 
 his nose vigorously. 
 
 "It seems like I can't bear to see her took," re 
 marked Miss Abbie. 
 
 "Nor me. I thought they were all over with it. I'd 
 go in and see her, but people wouldn't let me come out 
 again." 
 
 "No they wouldn't, and we've got to have things." 
 
 And then Miss Abbie told him what they needed to 
 have that day. 
 
 With slow and plodding footsteps Uncle Joe wended 
 his way toward the town, a look of melancholy and medi 
 tation on his face. He went to his nephew's, Philip's 
 grocery store, where he stayed most of the time, helping 
 when business was rushing, which was very seldom, ex 
 cept on Saturdays. 
 
 "How's the folks?" asked Philip. 
 
 "Bad," Uncle Joe shook his head. "Minnie's took 
 now." 
 
 "Minnie that pretty little thing. Well, I hope 
 she'll come through as well as the others. It's too bad 
 did you say you wanted a dozen eggs, little girl ?" And 
 Philip was soon busy with his customers, while Uncle 
 Joe selected the things he had been sent for, and packing 
 them in a basket, was soon on his way back to the 
 Barnes' home. 
 
 As he neared the Nash house, that lady opened the 
 door and came out on the porch with a broom in her 
 hand. No longer did she wear a low-necked dress and 
 elbow gloves, as at the reception ; in their stead was a 
 blue calico wrapper and house mittens. 
 
 "Mr. Barnes, oh Mr. Barnes ! don't come any closer. 
 I just want to inquire about the Barnes children."
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 57 
 
 "They're all doing well but Minnie. She got sick 
 yesterday." 
 
 "That's too bad. Did you know that Carrie Baker 
 was down with it and they closed the school yes 
 terday?" 
 
 "No, I didn't know that. I guess it's spreading." 
 
 "Tell Mrs. Barnes I'm real sorry for her but they'll 
 all get well. You can't kill the Barnes children." 
 
 "I hope not, ma'am," replied Uncle Joe with some 
 spirit. "They're fine children, every one of them." 
 
 Mrs. Howard seemed to be the only neighbor who 
 was not afraid of them, often calling Miss Abbie to the 
 fence to give her a dish of some dainty she had pre 
 pared for the invalids. 
 
 And so the hours and days passed and Minnie grew 
 worse in spite of all they could do, till one bright, sun 
 shiny day, when she seemed to be a great deal better 
 the doctor having tried a new remedy. 
 
 "Her throat is clearing up. I really believe she has 
 passed the crisis," said the doctor when he took his leave 
 that evening. 
 
 So Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, much relieved in their 
 minds, retired about ten o'clock, leaving Abbie to watch 
 by the sick child. 
 
 "I'll declare I feel like if I once get to sleep I can't 
 wake up," said Mrs. Barnes, as she laid her head on the 
 pillow that night. 
 
 Mr. Barnes just groaned for reply. He had been 
 housed up at home ever since the establishment of the 
 quarantine, and anxiety and enforced idleness had 
 brought his spirits to a low ebb. 
 
 Night wore on. Minnie slept fitfully till about two 
 o'clock, then she seemed restless, her breathing became
 
 58 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 more labored and Miss Abbie propped her up on some 
 pillows. 
 
 "Where's ma?" she whispered. 
 
 "She's asleep she's tired tonight, honey." 
 
 "Is you tired?" 
 
 "No, I'm not tired." 
 
 "I am so tired right here." She put her hand to 
 her throat. 
 
 "I know it hurts you, but the doctor says you're 
 better. Here, swallow a little of this." 
 
 The child made an effort to obey, but struggled and 
 choked, saying, "I can't, it's bad." 
 
 "Well, you got a little down anyway. Now try to 
 sleep." 
 
 She dozed off for a few minutes, and Miss Ab'ne's 
 sleepy head nodded down close to the pillow on which 
 the child was lying. 
 
 Presently she was awakened by feeling Minnie's 
 hand slipping over her face, across the wrinkles and down 
 her neck in the same old way she was wont to do. 
 
 "Is you lone and lorn now?" came a whisper. 
 
 "No, honey, not now. I've got you." 
 
 "Got me ain't you ?" The thought seemed to please 
 her. 
 
 "Yes, dear, and if you'll get well, I'll try never to be 
 lone and lorn any more." 
 
 "Never lone any oh, hold me up !" 
 
 The child was gasping, her eyes strained, her hands 
 clinched. Miss Abbie raised her in her arms. 
 
 "Mrs. Barnes! Mrs. Barnes! Come quick!" 
 
 By the time Mrs. Barnes reached the bedside, 
 Minnie's form had become stiff and rigid, in a sort of 
 spasm.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 59 
 
 "Give her to me ! Get some water ! Bathe her face 
 she can't breathe !" said the agitated mother. 
 
 They laid her on the bed and worked with her for a 
 long time; finally her limbs relaxed and her breathing 
 became apparent. Mr. Barnes had gone for the doctor. 
 Day was just breaking as they came in. The physician 
 looked at his little patient the white, unconscious face, 
 the drawn lips. He felt the pulse and avoided the eyes 
 of the parents. 
 
 "Is there any hope, doctor?" asked the father. 
 
 "I'm afraid not. Symptoms were all favorable yes 
 terday but this is a treacherous disease." 
 
 The children were not yet up, and it was a sad little 
 group that stood around the bed. About this time a 
 gentle knock was heard at the kitchen door, and Miss 
 Abbie went to open it. 
 
 There stood Uncle Joe, come to take his orders for 
 the day. When he saw Miss Abbie's tear-stained face, 
 he guessed the truth. 
 
 "Is she she worse?" he asked almost in a whisper. 
 
 "She's almost gone!" At this Miss Abbie's grief 
 broke out afresh, and she hid her face in her apron. 
 
 "I'm coming in," said Uncle Joe, and he followed 
 her into the sick room. Mrs. Barnes was kneeling by 
 the bed, supporting Minnie's head on her arm. The 
 child's eyes were half closed, her form still. The doctor 
 put his hand over her face and said, "It is all over." 
 
 Mr. Barnes led his weeping wife from the bedside, 
 and Miss Abbie, in her abandonment of grief, laid her 
 head, for an instant, on Uncle Joe's shoulder, while he 
 supported her form with his arm. 
 
 At this moment Tildy, hearing the commotion, poked
 
 60 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 her face in from the bedroom door, saying, "What's the 
 matter? How's Minnie?" 
 
 "Minnie is with the angels," answered the doctor. 
 
 This was the first deep sorrow that had fallen upon 
 the Barnes family. Though poor and struggling, they 
 had always managed to enjoy life a little as they went 
 along and so far had taken no personal interest in the 
 little graveyard over the hill, where all of the oldest 
 population of Roseville now slept. 
 
 But after this they always made a Sunday excursion 
 to the spot, the children picking wild flowers on the way 
 to adorn the little grave. Once they could find nothing 
 but dandelions which they wove into a chain and laid 
 around the wooden headstone, and Willie was detected 
 by his mother slipping a small piece of candy from his 
 pocket and sticking it under a clod, in his loving child 
 ishness, wishing still to divide with the little sister who 
 lay there. 
 
 Miss Abbie always wept and murmured, "She was 
 all I had," while her hand involuntarily wandered to the 
 wrinkles in her face that Minnie had always pressed and 
 patted out. The Barnes family was prostrated with grief. 
 They divided their time between the little cemetery and 
 home. They talked about little Minnie in Heaven. 
 They had lost a child, but had gained an angel.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AT CHRISTMAS TIME 
 
 Little Helen was one year old and Theodore Roose 
 velt nearly three. Helen was just beginning to toddle, 
 to walk from chair to chair, and balance herself by the 
 wall. She fell down dozens of times a day, her little 
 feet tripping at the least obstacle, and the step down 
 from the living room to the kitchen was a source of con 
 stant delight to her. She would climb up, pulling her 
 self by the .door-facing, then turning around, sit down 
 and slide over. This was great fun. Sometimes when 
 she fell down, Teddy would try to lift her up, and as he 
 was very short and fat, it was a hard tug and a great 
 triumph when he managed to raise her. 
 
 She was beginning to speak a few words, among 
 others she would say "pig-a-wig," when she wanted Tildy 
 to play "Pig" with her toes. It was a great pleasure to 
 her when Tildy would begin : "This little pig says I 
 go get corn ; this little pig says, where'll you get it ; this 
 little pig says, in Mossie's barn; this little pig says, I'll 
 go tell ; and this little pig says, quee ! quee ! quee ! I 
 can't get over the doorsill." 
 
 At the quee, quee, quee, Tildy always squeezed and 
 kissed her little toes, which brought forth a great laugh. 
 
 Teddy was still young enough to appreciate the 
 "pig" story himself, and he would often poke his little 
 toes up and say, "Mine, too, Tildy, do mine too." He 
 was a very noisy child, really loved to make a clatter.
 
 62 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 He pounded on tin pans, beat the stoves, and often took 
 the funnel of the oil can for a horn, blowing it with all 
 his might. However, he was good-natured and affection 
 ate, and had one redeeming quality he would not run 
 off. 
 
 For some unaccountable reason, in spite of her grief 
 and heartache over little Minnie's death, Miss Abbie was 
 looking younger and fresher than she had for many 
 years. She had even begun to crimp her hair a little 
 in front, and always wore a fresh collar pinned with a 
 really fine old cameo pin that had been her mother's, 
 which she had hitherto kept sacredly laid away. She 
 often took the children to church and Sunday school, for 
 which occasions Mrs. Barnes had bought and made for 
 her a very nice dress. 
 
 "I can't do too much for Abbie," she would say, 
 "when she has done so much for me. I don't feel as 
 though I could ever get along without her." 
 
 Christmas was only about two weeks off, and all 
 the children were trying to be "good as they could be," 
 anticipating the presents they might receive. Willie and 
 Johnny each hoped for a new pair of skates, and possibly 
 a sled. Ted and the baby were too little to expect much 
 of anything, but the other children were saving their 
 pennies and nickels to buy them toys and poor 
 Tildy was nursing a wish that she dared not utter. Her 
 childish heart craved a new set of furs, a boa and a muff, 
 like Carrie Baker had, but she felt that her father had 
 recently been at so much expense that he was not able 
 to afford them, so she told no one of her desire except 
 Miss Abbie, who, like Tildy, hated to mention the matter 
 to Mrs. Barnes, knowing that she would feel bad to deny 
 the child who so richly deserved such a gift.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 63 
 
 But the more Miss Abbie pondered it in her mind, 
 the more she worried about it. 
 
 Poor little Tildy ought to have her heart's desire. 
 How she wished she had money to buy it. There wasn't 
 a better child in all the town than Tildy. She had 
 earned the furs over and over again, but the fact that 
 she had earned them and deserved them did not make 
 her father able to buy them. 
 
 So Miss Abbie pondered on the subject till one day 
 when Uncle Joe was there, and Mrs. Barnes happened to 
 be at a neighbor's house, she confided to him Tildy's wish, 
 and expressed her own great desire to gratify it. 
 
 "I'll buy it," said Mr. Joe, "and you can go up and 
 choose it, and never tell who done it." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Joe, if you only could afford it !" 
 
 "I can, and will. I'll give you the money right now. 
 How much is it?" 
 
 "I'm afraid it's too much. Carrie Baker's cost seven 
 dollars." 
 
 He drew an old, greasy purse from his pocket, 
 counted out the money, and gave it to her, and three 
 dollars besides, "to buy yourself a present," said he. 
 
 "Oh, I can't!" said Miss Abbie, "ten dollars is too 
 much for me." 
 
 "Well, you'll want to buy presents for the children." 
 
 And so Miss Abbie was very happy in the knowledge 
 that she could make some presents, much happier than 
 if she had expected a present herself. 
 
 Uncle Joe lived with his sister Sarah and her son 
 Philip, who kept a little grocery store, and it had been 
 lately noised abroad that Philip was going to get mar 
 ried. At least a neat little cottage of three rooms and
 
 64 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 ample yard had been bought, and was being gradually 
 furnished and fitted up for somebody to live in. 
 
 Philip had been paying attention to a very nice girl 
 for two years, and it was supposed that the wedding 
 would take place about Christmas. 
 
 Uncle Joe made himself very useful about the new 
 house, putting the carpets down himself, while his sister 
 Sarah and Mrs. Barnes superintended. It was only about 
 three blocks from the Barnes residence, and Miss Abbie 
 would occasionally go over, followed by the children, 
 who took great delight in the new premises. 
 
 "I wonder if they'll buy a green iron bed or a white 
 one which do you think would be the prettiest, Abbie ?" 
 .asked Mrs. Barnes one day. 
 
 "I like white, with brass knobs, like Mrs. Howard's; 
 they're a lot prettier than the green ones." 
 
 "I expect Philip's girl will want that kind there 
 comes Uncle Joe now, with a new overcoat on. Why, 
 good morning, Uncle Joe, come right in." 
 
 "I come to see if you could go to town with me, to 
 help me buy a stove, one you think would burn good." 
 
 "Yes, I'll be glad to go, as soon as I can get ready. 
 How do you like the looks of this stove?" pointing to the 
 one in the sitting room. 
 
 "Why, it looks all right. Does it burn good?" 
 
 "Oh, it's a splendid stove," said Miss Abbie. 
 
 "You like it, do you? Well, we'll try to find one 
 like it," said he, opening the door for Mrs. Barnes to 
 pass out, that lady having made no change in her wear 
 ing apparel except to don a dark dress skirt, hat and 
 cloak. 
 
 "You look mighty fine in your new overcoat," said 
 Mrs. Barnes, as they neared the gate.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 65 
 
 "And I'm going to get me a new suit of clothes for 
 Christmas," said he. 
 
 About one block from home they met Willie and 
 Teddy, who had been out for a little walk. 
 
 "Let me go to town with you," cried Willie, "me and 
 Ted." 
 
 "Do you mind 'em, Uncle Joe ?" 
 
 "No, let 'em come along." 
 
 So Teddy and Willie trotted along beside them till 
 they reached the hardware store, or rather a big store 
 that carried general merchandise. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes stepped in and was soon lost to every 
 thing else in examining the merits of the different stoves. 
 Presently she heard a wail from Teddy. 
 
 "Oh ! Oh ! My han,' my han' !" 
 
 She found that he had opened and closed a stove 
 door on his little fat hand, making a long red mark. 
 After kissing the hand and scolding the child, she was 
 turning again toward the salesman when she discovered 
 Willie in the act of taking the ashpan from the bottom 
 of a coal stove.' 
 
 "Willie Barnes, what do you mean?" she cried. 
 
 "I was just looking how it was made." 
 
 "Let it alone and take care of Teddy. You don't 
 give me a chance to see anything." 
 
 Again she turned her attention toward the stoves. 
 "This looks like a good one, Uncle Joe. It's not exactly 
 like ours, but very near it." 
 
 As Uncle Joe advanced toward the stove in question, 
 there was an awful clatter, a terrible mingling of sound 
 in which Teddy's voice was uppermost. He had run 
 against a pile of loose stove pipes and knocked them over 
 on himself.
 
 66 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "Whatever made me bring the children?" cried Mrs. 
 Barnes, picking Teddy up and shaking him, partly to get 
 the dust off and partly in motherly wrath. 
 
 Once more she turned her attention toward the 
 stove ; the salesman who was extolling its virtues at a 
 great rate to Uncle Joe, now addressed her: "Yes, 
 ma'am, this stove burns less coal and gives out more 
 heat than any other stove on the market." 
 
 Mrs. Barnes was on the point of speaking when she 
 detected Willie, who was standing near her, turning on 
 the generator of a gasoline stove. 
 
 "Don't Willie," she said in a suppressed voice, 
 ashamed to attract the attention of the salesman after 
 so much racket from the children. But Willie, either deaf 
 to her words, or willingly disobedient, preceded to turn 
 on another burner, and so the odor of gasoline was be 
 coming apparent. Dreading to call out and cause another 
 scene, Mrs. Barnes sided over toward Willie, saying as 
 she did so, "Yes sir, I think it's a good stove, very much 
 like mine." Then she gave her recreant son a good, 
 long pinch in the back. 
 
 "Oh, oh! What you pinching me for?" exclaimed 
 Willie, leaping about three feet from the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Barnes, not expecting this, was covered with 
 confusion. Uncle Joe looked around in wonder, then 
 realizing the situation, laughed outright. The salesman 
 also smiled. 
 
 "He was turning the burners on and and I had 
 to do something," stammered Mrs. Barnes. 
 
 "Yes, I put some gasoline in that stove yesterday, 
 to show a lady how it worked," explained the clerk. 
 
 Willie hung his head in real shame for his dis-
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 67 
 
 obedience, and little Teddy, in mute sympathy, walked 
 up and took him by the hand. 
 
 "Did you say you wanted this stove, ma'am ?" 
 
 "Yes, no you decide, Uncle Joe. The children have 
 got me so rattled I don't know anything." 
 
 "Yes, that's the stove. Send it down to the little 
 new house next to Mrs. Dale's." 
 
 And so the purchase was made. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve night. The Barnes children 
 were going to bed early, but of course they weren't one 
 bit sleepy, no more than if it was early morning. Their 
 curiosity was too much roused to admit of drowsiness, 
 and yet they knew that old Santa Claus would never 
 come unless they were all sound asleep. Their stockings 
 were hung in a row back of the heating stove. There 
 were six, like little stairsteps, beginning with Tildy's and 
 ending with Helen's baby feet. 
 
 Little Minnie's stocking was in its accustomed place. 
 
 "Ma," said Tildy that night, "I'm going to hang up 
 one of Minnie's stockings. I know Santa'll want to give 
 her something, too." 
 
 "Yes," said her mother with a choke in her voice, 
 "hang it there." 
 
 Miss Abbie, like the children, had gone early to her 
 room. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were sitting very quietly by 
 the stove; the hands of the clock pointed to ten. 
 
 "I wonder if the children are asleep?" said she. He 
 held out his hand to caution her, then rose from his 
 chair and peeped over at the sleeping babe in their own 
 bed, then, followed by his wife, he looked at Ted sleep 
 ing in his crib near by. Entering the adjoining room,
 
 68 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 he saw Tildy sleeping alone in her bed, and tenderly 
 placed his hand on the vacant pillow beside her. 
 
 On another white cot lay Johnny and Willie. "All 
 asleep," he whispered, and then they prepared the Christ 
 mas offering. 
 
 Bringing a large basket from the kitchen, the stock 
 ings were quickly and quietly filled, the presents labeled 
 and distributed. Mrs. Barnes paused a good while at 
 Minnie's stocking, her husband putting his arm around 
 her in silent sympathy. 
 
 At last they sought their rest, and the little cottage, 
 so full of sleeping life, unuttered hopes and tender sor 
 row, was still and silent as the night. 
 
 But just as the little clock's hands crawled around to 
 the mark of twelve, a white robed figure came silently 
 in from the little lean-to bedroom and laid a good-sized 
 package at Tildy's place, and a smaller one for each of 
 the others. 
 
 Christmas morning dawned bright and beautiful. 
 The sun rose over a snow-white world. Three inches of 
 snow had fallen during the night, and it was still virgin 
 and untracked. 
 
 Of course the children were astir with the dawn. 
 First one little head popped up from the pillow and 
 called "Christmas gift!" and then the other little heads 
 popped up, and instantly "Christmas gift!" was echoing 
 all over the house. 
 
 "Not a present is to be looked at until you get your 
 clothes on," announced Mrs. Barnes with more authority 
 than usual, and for once they dressed quickly; there 
 was no dwadling over stockings and shoe-buttons the 
 clothes flew on like magic.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 69 
 
 Presently they were comparing presents and chat 
 tering like magpies. Exclamations of wonder and words 
 of joy were flying from mouth to mouth. 
 
 "This is mine !" "Oh, isn't it lovely !" 
 
 "Just look at this ! "Here's something else !" and 
 so on, the words ran around, till Tildy, noticing her big 
 package for the first time, cried out, "What's this?" 
 
 A moment more and the coveted furs were lying in 
 her lap. 
 
 Oh, look ma, it's a set of furs like Carrie Baker's ! 
 Oh, I never expected it!" 
 
 "Nor I, either," said Mrs. Barnes, looking ques- 
 tioningly at her husband. 
 
 "You needn't look at me. I didn't give 'em to her," 
 he said. 
 
 "Who did then? Abbie, who do you suppose gave 
 Tildy the furs?" 
 
 "How how do I know, Mrs. Barnes?" It was so 
 hard for Miss Abbie to dissimulate that she looked guilty. 
 
 "Abbie, you know something about it. I know you 
 do but you haven't said a thing about your present." 
 
 "You don't mean that new cloak in there on my 
 bed is for me?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Certainly it's for you, and you're to ask no ques 
 tions." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Barnes, it must have cost a good deal. 
 I don't understand." 
 
 "You don't have to understand, just wear it." 
 
 Miss Abbie looked the cloak over and over, and could 
 hardly believe such a handsome garment was her own. 
 
 "Ma," cried Willie, "guess what's in Minnie's stock- 
 ing." 
 
 "What is it, child?"
 
 70 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "It's a lily, a big white lily. Looks like it had 
 growed there over night." 
 
 "It's just like those Mrs. Howard has blooming in 
 her window," observed Johnny. 
 
 "Do you reckon Santa put it there?" asked Willie. 
 
 "Maybe it was an angel," said Tildy, and the chil 
 dren grew quiet for a moment, lost in wonderment. 
 
 "Do your skates fit, boys?" asked their father, as he 
 came in from milking an hour later. 
 
 "Just perfect. I don't see how old Santa guessed 
 the size." 
 
 "Lay Helen's doll in bed with her so she'll see it 
 when she wakes. It's a wonder she sleeps in all this 
 noise." 
 
 "Just listen to Teddy beat his drum. I don't 'spose 
 we can hear ourselves talk all day." 
 
 And so the fun ran on while Miss Abbie and Mrs. 
 Barnes were trying to get breakfast. 
 
 "Miss Abbie," said Mrs. Barnes, about ten o'clock 
 that day, "I didn't tell you that we were all invited over 
 to Philip's new house to eat dinner today. I wanted 
 to take you and the children by surprise." 
 
 "Why, is he already married?" 
 
 "Oh no, but his mother is just going to have a 
 Christmas dinner there as a sort of house-warming, you 
 know." 
 
 "That'll be real nice." 
 
 "And you are to wear the new dress I made you and 
 your new cloak, and fix up your best." 
 
 "I'll try to," said Miss Abbie, disappearing into her 
 little bedroom. "I don't hardly know myself," she mur 
 mured a little while later, as she put her hat on before 
 the glass.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 71 
 
 Presently they were all down to the new house 
 where Philip's mother invited them in and Uncle Joe 
 came forward to greet them in a brand new suit of 
 clothes, his face shining from the effects of soap and 
 water and happiness. 
 
 The table was already laid, and all the furniture was 
 bright and new ; the stove gave forth a genial warmth. 
 
 "How do you like it all?" asked Uncle Joe, looking 
 at Miss Abbie. 
 
 "Like it I think it's a a the happiest place in the 
 world." 
 
 "You do. Would you like to live in a little house 
 like this have it for your own?" 
 
 "Indeed I would, but I'm so lorn and unlucky," add 
 ing quickly, "where is Mr. Philip and his his girl?" 
 
 "They'll be here pretty soon, and the preacher too," 
 said Philip's mother. 
 
 "Oh, is it going to be a wedding?" 
 
 "I I guess it is. We want a double wedding." 
 
 Miss Abbie, much bewildered, stepped into the other 
 room to lay her cloak and hat on the bed. 
 
 "I I'd like to speak to you a moment," said Uncle 
 Joe, coming close beside her. 
 
 And then he began to talk in a low tone and Miss 
 Abbie stood with her hands clasped, almost holding her 
 breath as she listened. Uncle Joe had always been called 
 slow of speech, but now his tongue flew, his words came 
 quick, but low. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Joe, I never thought of it. I'm took so 
 sudden. It's such a surprise, and to think you want to 
 marry me and have got some money did you say it 
 was out of some mines?"
 
 72 THE BARNES FAMILY 
 
 "Yes, it was an old mine I put some money in a 
 long time ago, and they just sold it and sent me my 
 share. I intend to go into the grocery business with 
 Philip." 
 
 "And this house is yours?" 
 
 "Yes, mine, and yours too, if you want it." 
 
 "There comes the preacher and Philip and his girl," 
 cried Mrs. Barnes, coming toward them. 
 
 "We'll all get married at once, if you say so," said 
 Uncle Joe, imploringly. 
 
 But Miss Abbie was too much overcome and be 
 wildered to say anything, so Mrs. Barnes took her by 
 the arm, led her into the other room and stood her up 
 by Mr. Joe, Philip and his sweetheart standing beside 
 them. 
 
 The preacher took his place and began to repeat a 
 simple marriage service. When he came to the words, 
 "Abbie Dobbs, do you take this man to be your lawful 
 husband?" she could not answer, her tongue clove to the 
 roof of her mouth, she tried to nod her head and looked 
 appealingly toward Mrs. Barnes, who, always ready to 
 help a friend in need, loyally answered, "Yes." 
 
 And so this old, obsolete, neglected couple were 
 joined in the holy bonds of matrimony, to comfort and 
 care for each other, to walk hand in hand adown the hill 
 of life, toward the setting sun, no longer alone, no longer 
 unloved. 
 
 Following the ceremony was a great feast, to which 
 every guest, especially the Barnes children, did ample 
 justice. 
 
 The neighbors, hearing of the affair, came in the 
 afternoon to offer congratulations and celebrate the oc 
 casion.
 
 THE BARNES FAMILY 73 
 
 "And you say Miss Abbie never suspected anything 
 of this until today?" asked Mrs. Howard of Mrs. Barnes. 
 
 "Not a thing. She's the most innocent minded mor 
 tal in the world and I knew she never could get married 
 unless I took the matter in hand and arranged it all for 
 her. She couldn't even say yes." 
 
 "And Philip is going to live with his mother, you 
 say?" 
 
 "Yes, and just Miss Abbie and Uncle Joe will live 
 here. I couldn't bear to have her far from me. The 
 children love her so much." 
 
 That evening when all the guests were gone except 
 Mrs. Barnes, Miss Abbie stood by her husband's chair, 
 and putting her hand timidly on his old gray head, said : 
 
 "I don't deserve all this and to think I used to call 
 myself lone and lorn and unlucky." 
 
 THE END 
 
 Failure is the stepping stone on which we climb 
 To other efforts higher all the time. 
 Defeat is but the ground-work, lowly laid, 
 On which the edifice, Success, is made.
 
 f 
 
 4 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 , 
 
 JP* 
 
 
 "J- f 
 
 f 
 
 *> 
 
 V 
 *
 
 * . 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL L BRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000583951 9 
 
 
 
 . i j 
 
 
 
 * *. 
 
 T