The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1873-02-20


wouldn't be nosed round by 'em. Now
here you are, free to go when you
please "
Miss Niddlins sighed an Affirmative.
1t was her peculiar trial that her rela-
tives never opposed her going.
"If you was to separate, | suppose
you've got enough to live on, " suggest
ed she cautiously.
Mrs. Hinkle's rocker ierked itself
into full stop. She had often said
that Reuben must choose betwixt his
folks and her." that "she would take
herself of, and the like but to have a
third person hint at a separation startled
her.
"Well-yes, said she, hesitatingly.
"I'vc got the property I brought with
me when 7 was married. | won't deny
but what Reuben has done tho fair thing
there but then, if he'd been some men,
he might have doubled it by this time
The long and short of it is, he's half
asleep. have to keep stirring him up,
and, after all, he don't appreciate me "
81 believe it would wake him pretty
thoroughly if You should leave him, "
returned Miss Niddlins. "He'd begin
to realize what a smart wife he'd lost y
"He'd clutter the kitchen with his
greasy harness, and camp down on the
lounge in his boots-that's what he'd
do,-the minute I was off" snapped
Mrs. Hinkle.
"He couldn't manage without you,
to save his life, declared Miss Niddlins,
confidently. "He'd go down on his
knees to you to get you back.
Mrs. Hinkle seemed ilattercd by the
idea.
ga pretty figure he'd cut, laughed
she, "fat as he is, and looking, you
might say, as if he'd been blowed up in
his clothes !"
"I'm sure / don't see how you can
smile situated as you are, said Miss
Niddlins, showing symptoms of fresh
cold.
ellis folks have tried my soul out Of
me, cried Mr. Hinkle, hastily resum-
ing her wrath "and what's maddened
the most has been to see Reuben take il
so cool. That man hasn't any more
nerves than tub of lard / wouldn't
value jumping off the meeting-house
if | thought it would give him start. "
"Poor woman !" said Miss Niddlins,
displaying the red silk handkerchief
that might properly be called her badge
of mourning. cts your duty to your
self to 80 where you can take some
peace of your life !"
"Idont feel clear, said Mrs. Hinkle,
as she settled the coffee for dinner, and
thus ended their first conference.
But as Miss .Jiddlins spent the week,
justifying Mr.. Hinkle's apprehensons,
she and Mrs. Hinkle had ample appor-
tunitics for renewing the discussion Of
the latter's grievances, till, from not
feeling "clcar," Mrs. Hinkle, by the
time her guest departed, came to feel,
as she expressed it, call in II muddle," "
Even her ox-eyed husband noticed
something amiss with her.
81 wonder whether or not6age tea
wouldn't be kind Of quieting to Laviny, "
he reflected one morning as he logged
along to the village after turnip seed.
~ haint seen her so fractions since she
had the neurology in her face. If she
wasn't poor sick creature don't know
but I should get put out with her-l
l really don't" and Mr.. Hinkle lower
ed his voice to an awe-struck whisper
as he gave utterance to this troasonous
thought.
"His folks" lived in Il sick-headache-
colored house at the Four corners, and
his sister Phebe was hanging out clothes
in the back yard as he drove up.
SCOT any sage to spare" cried MIR.
Hinkle, whoaing Dobbin.
"Mercy on us?" was Miss Phebes
answer.
"Tisn't one of her doings, said Mr..
Hinkle, slowly punching the wheel with
his whip-lash; "but she's in terrible
nervous way, and / think maybe she
needs something soothing. WHATS
good for her nerves?
"I don't know, without it's a sound
scolding," replied Miss Phebe, with
her mouth full of clothes-pins.
"Now, sister, you're hard on Layiny,
said Mr.. Hinkle, in an injured tone.
"She amt tough, like what you be. "
"Her temper is tough enough but
I'm suited if you are, poor soul " and
Miss Phebe hunted for both sage and
valerian, though inwardly persuaded
that all the poppies in the world
couldn't soothe Laviny when she once
got "set out. "
Meanwhile Mrs. Hinkle had been
doing furious forenoon's work, and.
ready to drop from exhaustion, was just
hanging up the mop after scrubbing the
kitchen floor, when dear, blundering
old Reuben scuffed across the threshold
with his torn paper bags, scattering
dried leaves like an autumn wind, and
leaving muddy moccasins tracks at every
step. Before those clumsy footprints
Mrs. Hinkle's feeble forbearance He'd.
The herbs her husband had trusted
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