The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1873-05-16

cart loaded with bean-poIes was Ger.
tainly exasperating. Nevertheless, he
could not go on and as the two beam
ing and Statistic I young faces peered out
at him, he demanded, in vexed aston
ishment =
" What on earth have you got here ?''
We're a tolI-gate," explained Miss
Garlic with dignity Me and Billy
made it, and well let you through if -''
But the statement of terms was cut
short. The horse at that moment espied
the luttering white sun-bonnet, and
seizing SO favorable an opportunity to
be frightened, sprang suddenly to one
side, flung his unsuspecting rider to
the ground, and sped away up the road
again. Tom rolled over and sat up in
a bewildered sort of a way, got upon
! his feet slowly, brushed the dust from
his clothes, and looked after his re-
treating steed with long whistle.
''Well! it isn't likely anything will
stop him now until he gets home, so I
might as well stay and pull this thing
down. What possessed you two young
sters'' and there Tom paused, laughed.
and grew more like his good-natured
self than he had been for "a hours.
The defiant, indignant, disappointed
expression of those little dirty faces
was irresistible. Garlic protested stout
ly when the strong hand began to de-
molish her work but Tom persuaded
and explained, and the final promise of
ride in the cart, when he had rolled
it back up the lane, effected a satisfac-
tory capitulation.
The "tOli-gate" disposed of Toms
next move was to follow his horse, and
he speedily discovered that the wise
animal had not taken the trouble to go
home, but had stopped nearer by, at a
place where he had frequently been
allowed to make himself quite at home.
He had been recognized at once; and
saddled, bridled, but riderless, awaken
ed suspicion of evil. The trio of wo-
men had gathered about him in the
yard, Aunt Polly with hands dripping
from the suds, Aunt Becky leaning
her crutch, and Maggie pale and trem-
bling,-when Tom arrived upon the
scene. Since he was prevented from
making journey to far-of lands, and
leaving long chapters for misunder-
standings, suspense and adventures, he
should, according to all precedent,
have broken a limb in falling from his
horse, so that he could be carried into
the house, and have had a gradual re-
Cancellation through slow, delicious con-
valescence-a mixture Of roses and
cream-toast. But he had a boyish pro-
pensity for falling right side up, and
there was nothing at all the matter ex-
cept a rent in his coat. Aunt Polly no.
ticed the torn garment before his brief
explanation was ended, and in the kind
ness of her heart insisted that it should
come in for repairs. She was wash
ing, to be sure, and Becky was no great
hand with any needle but knitting
needles, but Maggie could do it slick as
you please" The owner assented with
aIacrity. 50 It did look rather badly to
wear through the vilIage-if it wouldn't
be too much trouble to just put a stitch
in it.
He watched the color come back into
the face bent SO steadily over that piece
of darning; watched the white fingers
busy with their task, and remarked sig
nfcantly =
what talent you have for making
things right again. -
''After other people have made them
crooked, " added Maggie promptly.
81 don't think those threads Will
show that they were ever separated"
Maggie vouchsafed no reply to that,
and he looked on in silence a few min
utes longer.
There the breach is nearly
healed"
"Quite, she said, clipping her
thread.
els it ?' he asked 80 suddenly that
she looked up, and then his eyes would
have an answer, and she couldn't keep
her heart out of hers.
So that was the end Of it-a long
story cut short in the most common
place way.
And Polly absolutely left the world
at large to take care Of itself for several
successive wash-days while she planned
Maggie's outfit. Tom never went to
Arizona at ali, but kept his place in the
village store, and goes home to a cozy
little nest at night, where Maggie meets
him at the door and receives a double
entrance-fee, because he says he shall
owe that to all toIl-gates his life through.
And Maggie thinks, with q throb of
thankfulness, how well it is that a ten
derer Hand than our own wiIIfuI ones
guides our destined Yes, they. are
simple souls and better satisfied with
their humdrum happiness than with the
most poetic misery; but, alas for their
biographer and the ruined volume
ScTi5Rcr's.
lam one who would gladly be refu-
ted, if I should say anything not true,-
I would gladly refute another, should
he say anything not true,-but would