Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1868-02-01
ACCEPTING THE SITUATION.

Mrs. Fascett dropped herself on the
chip basket by the stove.
"If l ever saw the beat !" said she.
Miss Silence Dummie looked up from
the little canary-colored frock she was
embroidering, raising her black eye
brows like the top of an interrogation
mark, which was a good deal for her
to do. So, without waiting for any
more positive expression of interest,
Mrs. Fascett went on:
"While l was out spreading that
last batch of berries to dry I heard the
sound of horses hoofs coming over
the covered bridge; and says to N.Y.
self, says I; I'll just happen down to
the cucumber vines and see if there
are any cucnmbers big enough to pickle
Ct knew there wasn't as well as wanted
to, for John picked them last night,
and John is pretty thorough about what
he sets out to do). But l went and
stood there fumbling among the vines
Just in time to see such sight as was
never seen in Meadows before"
Possibly Miss Dummies curiosity
was not very lively, for Mrs. Fascctt
was always seeing wonderful and unpre-
cedented sights, but the interrogation
mark on her face heightened and deep
ened sensibly and Mrs. Fascett rubbing
her nose up and down as though it was
handle went on:
"Just as sure as you sit in that chair
Miss Dummie, it was Isabel Hubby
thorne riding with Mr.. Hamilton, and
not three months since Mrs. Hamilton
was around as well as any of us are to
day! No, it isn't three months, since
she was buried. l know you can't never
tell where to find these men-persons !;
but 1 wouldn't have thought Isabel
Hubbylthorne would do such thing,
if it was only for the speech of people.
l did think she was girl Of more pro-
priety and good taste. Now didn't you,
Miss Silence"
Miss Silence Dummie was something
like a funnel-excellent to pour into
but quite unsatisfactory to dip from
she listened patiently to whatever one
was pleased to tell her, and then that
was the end of the conversation. So
now. her object in life, apparently be-
ing '"how not to" say it, she replied,
"isabel Hubbylthorne and Calvin Ham
ilton I want to know?" And then she
took fresh piece of braid and began
embroidering it upon the gay merino
for the little Fascetts, who were cooking
mud cakes in a sand-oven behind the
house, as complacently as though there
was nothing more which could be said.
"Well, well but this isn't making
nv pies, is it ?" exclaimed Mrs. Fascett,
lifting herself up by bracing her hands
against the basket-handles and going
into the buttery, rolling up her sleeves
as she went. Or the way she stopped
to look at the long trail Of black-grape
vines Miss Dummie had already left be-
hind her busy fingers on the yellow
cloth. "That will smarter up the little
tykes. 1 do like to see them look spry,"
said Mrs. Fascett, who had an eye for
color.
She had palate as well as an eye, 80
she mixed her pie-crust, aud brought
pans of cinnamon rolls and sugar-ginger-
bread into being, talking away mean
time as though her tongue was the
motive power her hands depended on
and Miss Silence stitched aud stitched
like an improved Wheeler and Wilson
| Chat is perfectly noiseless one:) while
Miss Isabel Hubbylthorne, in quite
another part of the village, sat on the
| foot Of her sisters bed and worried.
CHOW, you needn't laugh at me,
Clara. can take . joke as we'll as
any body as general thing, but in such
case as this it is different it seems
sacrilegious.- Calvin is clear-headed
man, and he ought to have known bet