Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1871-04-14
The Leisure Hour.
DRIv.E.v TO THE WILL.

"And don't you know when you will
pass through this part of the country again,
Mr.. Verley ?"
"No, don't" said the old bachelor de-
cidedly.
He was something of a bear to answer so
crustily when Barbara Smith stood in the
doorway, with the shadowy lashes droop-
ing over the soft brown eyes, and roses
melting into deep carmine on her rosy
cheeks, until her muslin dress was plain
in comparison. Such pretty, big-eyed,
loving little Barbara rs she was in all the
blonde freshness of her eighteen summers,
and the soft sigh that fluttered from her
lips as the one-horse carriage drove away
was checked instantly Barbara had no
idea of becoming victim of unreauited
love, though she had rather fancied Mr..
Verley during his brief soiourn at her ia
ther's house.
Mr.. Verley drove away through the rust
ling green draperies of the summer lanes,
whistling sadly as he drove.
"I shall be in very good time for the IL. 80
train" he meditated to himself. Punctu-
ality is the soul of business, and 1 never
was one of the behind-hand tribe, thank
Providence. Besides, think it was be-
coming dangerous to remain in that place
any longer. l am thirty-nine tomorrow,
and that is just twenty years too old for
me to go making fool of myself. Fancy
me getting married Noyou don't Joseph
Varley, my friend.
As he settled himself comfortably in the
crowded railway car and opened a letter,
the subject again occurred to his mind
with curious persistence.
"The letter of my poor brothers execu-
tor came just in time, or certainly should
have fooled away more time than would
have been sensible or profitable Poor
dear Harold; 1 don't see what on earth
possessed him to fall sick on his way home
from Venice and leave his daughter on my
hands too. Why could he not have left a
son instead of daughter? I never did
understand womans ways, and whats s
more don't want too. / ain to meet her
at Speedville, and take her home with me.
or groaned Mr.. Verley referring despair
ingly to his letter. "And what am to do
with her when 1 get there I'd like to know!
l suppose she's great creature, with ring
lets and ribbons, and just as likely as not
an italian lover talking sentiment to her
creature that reads Byron and keeps an
album, and slate pencils and chalk. I'll
send her to boarding school, that's what
I'll do with my niece-and perhaps when
she has graduated there the schoolmaster
can suggest some means of getting rid OF
her. OF course she'll have dozen large
| trunks, and bonnet box and parrot $
cage-thats the way women generally
travel, believe. am glad | am out OF
the way of Barbara's destinations now."
Mr.. Verley looked out of the car win
dow in sort of calm desperation Mt the
prospect before him.
~ suppose she'll want piano, and may
be poodle dog, and there's no knowing
what else. don't see why Harold wanted
to die and leave his daughter to my care
just now. Speedville station--twenty-s sew
en- miles further. l wish it was twenty
seven hundred miles--thats what WISH
And with this vindictive sentiment In
his mind, our hero tied red silk handker
chief over his head, and tried to lose him
self in n series of brief, troubled dreams
wherein the vision of tall, nice young la
dy figured conspicuously.
"Are we here already2" he stammered
starting to his feet, as the conductor bawl
ed out "Speedville Station" and seizinI
umbrella, valise and travelling shawl, will
the bustling bewllderment peculiar to peo
pie just aroused from sleep, he alighted.
Speedville was rather a large-sized vii
lage, situated at the junction of several rail
ways, with an imposing American Gothi
structure for a depot. Into the building
Mr.. Verley walked, looking right and lei
for the young lady whose guardianship h
was to assume.
"Of course" he responded mentally
she'll he on the lookout for me wome
are proverbially curious"
But Harold Verley's daughter was nc
on the lookout for her uncle. When tn
crowd incident to the evening train ha,
subsidized and the people had gone their dii
ferent ways, the only remaining occupant
of the depot was Mr.. Verley, Il lame oil
man who sold peanuts and apples, and
decent looking colored woman, with
bright Madras .turban on her head, VIII
took care ofthe building. Neither of thes
could be his niece, so Mr., Verley, after
little perplexed hesitation, addressed him
self to the colored woman, who was busil