The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today

this history finds cer

ns and four extras. In Hawkins's family are six children of his own and two adopted ones. From time to time, as fortune smiled, the elder children got the be

ch difference as existed between Laura and Emily is not uncommon in a family. The girls had grown up as sisters, and they were bot

g these passing years, say at the happy age of twelve or thirteen, would have fa

tness of childhood. If Laura at twelve was beginning to be a beauty, the thought of it had never entered her head. No, indeed. Her mind was filled with more important thoughts. To her s

down and hiding her face one moment and blowing straight up against her fore head the next and making its revealment of fresh young beauty; with all her pretty girlish airs and graces in full play, and that

ould she have remained there, this history would not need to be written. But Laura had grown to be almost a woman in

hstood it. He said the land was for the children-he could not rob them of their future millions for so paltry a sum. When the second blight fell upon him, another angel appeared and offered $3,000 for the land.

even to acknowledge it to himself, but treason was in his mind-he was meditating, at last, the sale of the land. Mrs. Hawkins

to be seen, their clothes are in such a state. But there's somethin

y, go to J

ildren that he would rather they wouldn't come about his yard to play with his children,-which I can bear, and bear easy enough, for they're not a sort we want to associate with much-but what I can't bear with any quietness at all, is his t

his is as

very single day; I don't go out of the house, I feel so down; but you had trouble enough, and I wouldn't say a word-and I wouldn't say a wor

end. I don't know what in the world to do. Now if somebody would come along and offer

Si!" said Mrs. H

y m

e took her leave again. Hawkins said to himself, "How can a man ever lose faith? When the blackest hour comes, Providence always comes with it-

ranger

ficing your time, I will come to the point at once. I am agent of an iron manufactu

cked and wrenched with fettered hurrahs. His first impulse

ng. The enthusiasm faded away from his eyes, and the look of a man who is t

ng you can think of! Now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll reserve everything except the iron, and I'll sell them the iron property for $15,000 cash, I to go in with them and o

m not to go into the thing; and I have come square out with their offer, without throwing out any feelers-and I did it in the hope that you would refuse. A man

t to rise.

t a

good; yes, that's very good indeed-stuff! he'll be back here tomorrow, sure, and take my offer; take it? I'll risk anything he is suffering to take it now; here-I must mind what I'm about. What has started this sudden excitement about iron? I wonder what is in the wind? just as sure as I'm alive this moment, there's something tremendous stirring in iron speculation" [here Hawkins got up

urned toward the

nd dollars, if you will, and let the proposition go to the company-I will stick to it if it breaks my heart!" The stranger looked amused, and there was a pretty well defined touch of surprise in his expression, too, but

am! always a fool! Thirty thousand-ass that

bows on his knees, and fell to rocking himself back

ll,

nded-con-found it, Nancy.

Si for me

hing! Ruined

a body in such suspense. Didn't he bu

red $10,000 for

ery bottom of my heart of hearts! Wha

y scheme in a second. It's a vast iron speculation!-millions upon millions in it! But fool as I am I told him he could have half the

ooked up white

is man go, and we in this awful trouble

u suppose that man don't know what he is about?

I don't know what is to become of us. I don'

ess came into Hawk

ou can't believe w

now that we haven't a cent in the world, an

't believe I have missed a chance! Don't grieve, Nancy, don't grieve. I'll go rig

ck, watching wistfully but hopelessly for the stranger, and lowering his price steadily with his sinking heart. And when his foot finally pressed his own thresh

fireside the next night. All the children

turn-I never have been down so low before, I never have seen things so dismal. There are many mouths to feed; C

for a moment, and then Washington-now a lank, dreamy-eyed st

ith him a while, till the Tennessee land is sold. He has

m others-he is not far from as bad off as we are-and his family is as large, too. He might find somethin

ther? There's no s

A stage goes from Swansea, five miles fr

ey would credit you in a moment, for a little stag

And what do you think you'll do, Washington, when you get to

most knew I could do it, but it was

you'll finish your plan of coloring hen's

kills the hen; so I have dropped that for the present, though I can t

ve you got on

od and can all be done, but they are tiresome, and besid

bout to say someth

Louis. That will make another mouth less to fe

e money

f you would write her-and I know

let's hear fro

yes and light hair. Laura had a proud bearing, and a somewhat mature look; she had fine, clean-cut features, her complexion was

et there. I will make a way. And I will find a way to hel

Hawkins smiled proudly and kissed h

r living! It's like your pluck and spirit, child, but we

hands in her lap and became a splendid ice-berg. Clay's dog put up his brown nose for a little attent

he evening after this conversation, and the whole household gave him a rapturous welcome. He brought sadly nee

(to this easy household) was

to see how fondly all loved him and how hard it was to let him go, notwithstanding they had often seen him go before, in his St. Louis schooling days. In the most matter-of-course way they had borne the burden of getting him ready f

in the vehicle, and saw him off. Then he returned hom

rk; each reverse had weakened the father's spirit and impaired his energies; his last misfortune seemed to have left hope and ambition dead within him; he had no projects, formed no plans-evidently he was a vanquished man. He looked worn and tired. He inquired into Clay's affairs and prospects,

ranquility and satisfaction reigned in the household. Clay's hundred and eighty or ninety, dollars had worked a wonder. The family were as contented, now, and as f

s's outstanding obligations, for h

mself to chafe at the thought, for he reasoned that his father had dealt by him with a free hand and a loving one all his life, and now that hard fortune had broken his spirit it ought to be a pleasure,

southern family, and of good blood; and for any person except Laura, either within or without the househ