Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1868-09-11
Srlrfteo Storm.
THE SPINSTER'S SECRET.
By AMY RANDOLPH.

Summer boarders at the Brownson's
eh2" said Miss Barbara ROokbury-glving
a spiteful twist TO the bow of blue ribbon
she was fastening ON the front of jockey
hat-''well, knew all that paintin', and
papeTin', and ixin up meant something
Hand me the scissors, Stella. And who
are they:
Stella Rookbury was yet painting with
the haste with which she had sped home to
the Millinery and Dressmaking" estab-
hshment to report the precious bit of Cos
sip she had picked up
There was a gentleman, and lady. and
three little children, and a nurse and baby.
Mrs. BrOwnson called 'em Severn. guess,
from the marks on their trunk, they're New
York folks.
Miss Barbara embraced the first excuse
that presented itself for a walk to the vii
lage, selecting the road that led past the
Brownson farmhouse, to get peep, if
possible, to the ''city boarders.
do come in and rest, Miss Barby-you
look main tired" said motherly Mrs.
Brownson, who was hulling strawberries by
the kitchen window.
well, l don't care if / do" said the
spinster, secretly oveTiOyed.
For, through the wide-open hall doors,
she caught a glimpse of the lefty board
ers' reclining on the velvet grass of the
back meadow, where wide-spreading but
ternut tree cast a moving canopy of shadow
across the ripping tides of sunshine.
$50 thems your boarders, hey?" said
Miss BaTby, abstractedly helping herself to
handful of strawberries.
''Them's EN-, said Mrs. Brownson with
more attention to perspicuity than gram
mar
And where's Mr.. Severn"
L. L..
noon train. Let me get YOU a little cream
to eat with Your berries, Miss Barby, with
"A sprinkle of sugar ?"
Il think it's dreadful unbecomin' for
married lady to wear curls and white dresses
like Mrs. Severn" said Barby, with her
mouth full of strawberries and cream,
don't yOu?'
'.Well-no- when they are young
and pretty, like her. 1t wouldn't do for
You nor me, who have seen our best days,
Miss Barby," answered Mrs RrownsOn all
unconscious Of the spinster's vince.
4 guess I'd better be mOvin', said Bar
baTa, with acerbity, as she rose.
Have a few more berries p
mo, thank ye-they amt ripe enough
to suit my taste, and the creams little
tuTned-I s'pOse it's the warm weather. /
1 guess Tia go down through the back lot
Its lind of short cut
DO" said Mrs. Brownson, a little dis
comfted, ''and maybe you'll meet Lucy
comm from the village. / sent her down
for half dozen yards of shirtin muslin.
Barbara took occasion to indulge herself
IN good long stare, as she passed the
group upon thelawn. Mrs. Severn glanced
mp innocently. but turned the next instant
to her rosy little girls.
Keep your hat ON, Sylvie: what will
mana caH- 10 a SIM bufna1 Htfla rrirl
Mamma, it is lonely without papa, ex-
claimed the SECOND child. a chubby
checked lassie of six years old. when is
he cOming?"
But Miss Barbara lost the answer in the |
crackle of dead bOugh underneath her |
feet and she sped on, wondering how /
much Mrs. Severn's carbuncle earrings |
cost. Miss. BaTby like to reduce her little |
world to dollars and cents as much as pos
sible.
As she emerged out of Farmer Brownsons
clover meadow into the road that led di-
rectly to the village, under the overhang-
ING shadow of maple trees and bending
elms, she came across couple walking |
along. One was Lucy Brownson; and an |
attendant cavalier walking by her side, all |
gallantry and devotion.
How dye do, Lucy Brownson," said |
Miss Barbara, planting herself in front of
the young girl with resolute air, that
said: Here / stand until you introduce |
me-"
I'm pretty well, Miss Barby," answered
Lucy, hesitatingly, while her wistful hazel
eyes dropped beneath their white lids
And then, preceiving the exigencies of the
case. she added, rather unwillingly: 'sMiss
ROokbury, let me present to you Mr.. Sc
vern, a gentleman who boards at our
house"
Mr. Severn lifted his hat somewhat |
haughtily, and passed ON with Lucy, for
Miss Barby had stepped aside by this |
time, fully satisfied. But she heard him
say, when he fancied himself oct of hear
ing:
''How ever came you to be acquainted |
with such an old maid, ma belle Lucille ?"
And Lucy laughed, a soft little vocal
murmur, like the tripping of a brook over
messy stones.
Miss Barbara never forgot that laugh.
I'D belle Lucille, indeed !" she solilo-
quized Il wonder what my fine gentle
mans wife would say to this promising
Irritation. / wonder if Lucy Brownson
isn't ashamed of herself If she was mn
daughter-my sister l mean-rd shut
her up for week on bread and water, the
bold faced little mink, with her curls and
her red cheeks. 1 wonder what Serepta
bTOWnSOn and her husband are thinking
about. 1 guess their city boarders III bring
EN- to grief yet Anyway mean to keep
an eye on Mrs Severn's husband and Lucy
BroWnsonr'
And Miss Barbara Rookbury's s.eye"
was fully equal to any detective in the ser
vice.
The summer wore away, the sultry COR
geousness of the August sunsets faded out
and the light September frosts began, here
and there, to touch the upland woods with
wands of flame and gold-and still Barbara
kept her eye ON Lucy. And by this time
she had accumulated evidence enough to
convict at least half-a-dozen damsels of
the high crime and misdemeanor of fir
tation. 4s4s
Ii was still, balmy evening In the early
autumn, with full moon just rising, like o
translucent globe of pearl above the purple
glens, when Miss Barbara, coming home
from the village with handbook full of ar
tificial flowers, heard familiar footsteps ON
the messy path, and secreted herself be-
hind a tremulous screen of wild grape
vines that swung from the boughs of an
oak.