Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-05-16


helpless as not to know what to do for a
sprain |" was her cry. "Pennie, love, take
take my bonnet and gloves, and go to my
cupboard, and straight in front of you you'll
sec bottle lablled---,"
"I'll wait for the doctor or Buckhurst,
Mrs. Croft, thank ye," interposed her reluc-
tant visitor, in alarm. Perhaps 1t is more
than sprain. If my boot were only of--it
will have to be cut. All, no, let it bc-let ii
bel" he demonstrated, before the widow had
touched his foot, and she was glad TO leave
him to himself Her extreme sensitiveness
shook her nerves, and made Pennie run to
ask Bessie If she thought the doctor would
be long.
"No-listen. That's him riding into the
yark now" Bessie went to open the door,
and Pennie, standing by the kitchen fire,
recognized the voice of Mr.. Buckhurst en-
tering with joke. lie turned in there first,
put down his hat and whip, and chatting
his hands for brisk minute, nodded, and
followed Bessie into the parlor.
In less than five minutes lie was out again,
in cool hurry. "You'll have Mr.. Tindal's
company for q month to come. 1t is a
broken leg-just above the ankle; a slip on
loose stone, and a fall, said he, and was
gone.
DIR. Grey returned with his assistant, and
Mr.. Tindals man, shortly The limb was
set, and by Mrs. Croft wept over. "Oh,
how he bore i'll" sobbed she, telling the
story to her daughter aud Bessie. "Bcau-
tJul. He's resting now,poor fellow. Therd
goes your parlour, Pennie; he says he won't
stir till he's well. Put supper in the dining
room, lass; the doctor and Buckhufst will
be glad of something before they go. Mr..
Tindafs manll sit up with him, and I'll make
his cruel myself. He's to get nothing else
tonight. I've a true pity for him" added
she to Pennie aside, ''but I'd as lief he'd
fallen before somebody else's door. There
never was man that ill-luck dogged as 1t
dogs him. One might fancy there was a
curse upon him."
Mayfeld hardly knew itself on the NOR
row. An uninvitcd guest Especially an un-
invited male guest with broken leg) upsets
the routine of small households completely.
Pennie mad no dulness or .inoccupation to
complain of now. Her mother was obliged
to make her useful in all manner of ways,
and she complacently accepted the duties
with which she was charged,t to relieve others
for uarvtra In, 1,a Dr
graduated her on getting into training for a
farmers wife, and promised to tell her cousin
Dick what a clever handy little body she
was-compliments Pennie did not appreci-
ate from her negligent co-trustee. Her leave
Of absence from Eastwood was extended, and
she no longer felt any particular anxiety to
return. She conceived deep interest in the
tenant of her pretty parlour, from which
she was exiled for many days. The coming
and going of the doctor, of the housekeeper
at the Abbey, of Pierce, Mr.. Tindal's man,
and of other persons, to help, 10 hinder, OF
to inquire, created q perpetual hustle and
variety. The first hour of rest in the day
time that Pennie enjoyed was one afternoon
when her mothsr slipped out of the parlour
to get taste Of fresh air in the garden (and
Mrs. Jones', when she was hidden to slip in,
quietly sit her down, and, if Mr.. Tindal asked
for drink, to give it him, but not let him talk.
Pennie did as she was told with great
awe upon her. Mr.. Tindal had been at
death's-door; he was as weak as water yet,
and 1t was much if he got better-so Bessie,
and the strange nurse DIR. Grey had provided
for him at the worst had talked before her.
Pennie had never been in the presence oi
any one lowering on the confines Of the
other world and when she entered the par
lour she felt like going to church in Lent,
when the pulpit was draped in black cloth,
and the choir pitched all their tunes in q
minor key. A low iron campbell had been
set up between the window and the fire, and
there lay the sick man, white, worn, pathetic
with shut sunken eyes, and close-clipt hair.
He was so still that she thought he slept,
but presently he muttered a wish to know
what o'clock it was. Pennie drew little
nearer, and said 1t was half-past three. All
the sound OF fresh voice he opened his
eyes, looked at her, and then at the table,
where stood pitcher of refreshing drink, o
glass, and spoon. She interpreted the
glance into thirsty desire, poured some
out, and offered it to his lips
| sis Pierce here ?" he asked. Pennie said
he was not. "Nor your mother? Then
try if you can raise my head little, so that
1 can get convenient SIP" Pennie pro-
posed the spoon. "That is right-you will
soon learn" His face took on another ex.
preston altogether II feel that have goi
a good turn at last" said he.
"Yes, but you must not talk, replied hit
new nurse. with decision. "If you do,yo
will fall off again"
"No, shall not" This flat contradiction
put to flight Pennies awe, and she felt nc
more solemn the she had done when helping
to wait on the Wynyard boys once, all three
convalescent and fractions together after the
measles. While she was still presiding in tht
parlour her mother returned, bringing il
with her DIR. Grey, and, in reply to the usua
inquiries, the patient said he thoughr hi
might enter on course of amusement now
SIS he off his head again! A course o
amusement, when he can't lift his hand tt
his mouth /" whispered the widow.
"Glod to see you in spirits, SIR" said thu
doctor. "We will put Miss Penelope il
charge of you again. She has stirred yol
up" Pennie demonstrated that indeed sh,
had only told him what O'Clock it was, art
given him drink with spoon, "It is al
right, my dear, you shall give it him again
A bit of diversion with his tonics will hell
him on"
TO BE CONTINUED.