Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-02-16
The Leisure Hour.
.y.TRBl"S Ht'SR.E.vD.
knock at the squirc's door.

y knock nj the Squircs door.
An eager "Come in" from the squire, to
whom any outside diversion is an inesti-
mable boon, he having just reached that
uncomfortable stage of masculine conva-
lcscencG when life becoms a burden mot
only to the so-called "patent" himself, but
also to those unucky feminine relatives
whose duty it is to oflciate rs his "minis-
tering angels
Mary, the servant, came in.
"Plcase, Mr.. Hosley, there's a woman
down stairs who says she must see you.
She's been here before since you were
sick, and now she wont take no for an an
swer."
"Show her right up, Mary said the
squire, alertly, Frightening up visibly, like
the war horse who scents the battle afar of.
Not all the cosy comfort of his surround
ings, the "Sleepy IIollowncss" of his easy
chair, the pleasant pictures on the wall, the
wood-fire, which now that the wntry twi-
light was settling down over the bit of gray
sky left visible by the curtains heavy
folds, danced and flashed all over the room
in rosy shadows, could reconcile the squire
to his enforced seclusion. Secretly he pned
for his dingy old den of an office, and
chafed at the doctors restriction, which as
yet forbade all thought of business. But
now the moral police force, represented by
his wife and daughter, being luckily Off
duty, there was nothing to prevent his
seeking this probable client.
"Show her up, Mary" said the squire
choerfully, Strengthening himself and as
suning as much of legal dignity as dress
ing gown and slippers permitted.
Mary disappeared. Presently the door
opened again. "Why, Nabby,' said the
squire, ais it you? How do you do?"
"Yes, squire, it's me-" said Nabby, drop
ping down with heavy sigh into a chair (;
and l don't do very we'll"
Nabby was a short, squarely built wo-
man of fifty, with considerable gray in the
coarse black hair drawn stifily and uncom-
promisingly under a bonnet about five
years out of date. She had sharp back
eyes, and resolue, go ahead manner.
Evidently, hard-working woman yet in
looking at her you could not help the con-
viction that something more than hard
work had ploughed the deep wrinkles
and threatened TO lift her eyebrows up to
to her hair.
Nabby had lived with the squire's moth
or fifteen years-from the time when Mrs.
IIosley took her in, -year-old orphan,
who was, as the good old lady sometimes
expressed it, "more plague than profit"
until she grew into the steady and reliable
handmaiden, who finally with every one 5
good wishes, married young Josiah Gould,
and set up in the world for herself Old
Mrs lIosley had long since gone to her re-
ward, but the family still kept up friend
ly interest in Nabby and her fortune, the
squire in particular being her "guide, phi
losopher, and friend" in all the emergcm-
cies of life.
'Why, what's the matter now, Nabby ?"
said the squire, good-naturedly. "Are you
sick ?"
"Hes, am," said Nabby, cmphatically
with snap Of her black eyes. "pm ,ick
to death of Josiah. | can't stand it any
longer, and I've come to talk with You
about gettn' divorce. You see he's beer
n growing worse now for a good while
I've kept 1t to myself pretty much, because
was ashamed ont, and then I kept hop
ing he'd do better. I've talked to him, ant
said and done everything n woman could
but it seems as If the more talked the
worse he grew"
Tho squire looked at Nabby's rathe
sharp, hard face, and perhaps was hardl,
so surprised as Nabby had expected tina
josiah had not been reformed by the vigor
Gus talking to' he had undoubtedly re
coived.
"lle grew more and more shinless anC
good-for-nothing," continued Nabby, "tll
finally he didn't do much but set roun,
the kitchen fire, half booty. II therei