The Republican journal., 1873-06-26
A Novel Spoiled.

Novel Spoiled.
The heroine was not beautiful, to begin
with not queenly, nor in any wise re-
markable She was Just plump, Win
some little maiden, and she stood at the
garden gate that moonlit Sunday evening,
with an air the reverse of stateliness and
composure. pulling leaves from the rose
bush near by with nervous, futtering
fingers that did not even know when the
was a tall figure, face bronzed and
bearded, and low voice utterlng words
half pleading, half resenttul. There was
a moments pause, then the voice ques-
toned with dash of bitterness
Shall 90, Maggie ?'
",Iust AS you please, Mr.. Clifford; -
" about and strobe rapidly down the
under his feet, while Maggie sped into the
door as if afraid of being pursued. She
peeped through window, from behind
| the curtain, until the lonely pedestrian
on the quiet road had vanished from
sight; then She assured herself that ''if
OIil CllOSt 10 dCl SO- SIG Oluu L CftIC
and proved her utter Indifference by bury
ing her face in her pillow with burst of
sobs. and entire forgetfulness of the
pansies in her pretty hat.
They had qulrreled about nothing-at
least she couldn't remember what it be-
gan with-but, of course, it was all over
away as he had said She wondered, as
ba 1,v ha, HpcbaJ fao,f,11 for
turned toward the stars, how it would
it all. Wouldn't somebody be sorry then
quite, because one doesn't like to stop in
the middle of a story, even if it is ones
own; and, besides, what good would his
remorse do her if she never could know
anything about it?
Tom on his homeward walk, discoursed
| furiously to himself upon the tickleness
and perversity of all woman kind "Not
| one of the whole race worth breaking a
fellows heart for" he remarked savagely,
though with q queer little quiver about
his lips the while One thing was certain,
he would not stay moping there. The
world was wide and there was nothing
now to hold him back. He would resign
his place in the village store, and join the
party for Arizona. Yes, he would take
the first morning train for the city and tell
Golfer he would go; there was fortunately
time enough for that yet, and if it left
brief space for preparation, so much the
| better. He should not wait for people to
change their opinion, he thought, fancy
| ing that by ''people" he meant Miss
Maggie, but, in reality, fearing more a
| faltering OF purpose in nearer party.
| Let the Sunday night be what it may,
Monday morning follows it all the same.
Maggie was glad that it was Monday
morning, since it left her at liberty to sit
with her sewing in a quiet corner by a
window, unquestioned and undisturbed,
| while busy Aunt Polly who would allow
no inexperienced fingers to intermeddle in
her washing, and lame Aunt Becky, who
always would stay where Polly was, we're
in the kitchen adjoining. No ordinary
kitchen was this, steaming soapy and dis
consulate, but a large pleasant. tidy room,
where Aunt Becky could enjoy her arm
| chair and her knitting together with Aunt
Polly's discourse. The latter lady was
| unusually talkative wash-day. Possibly
being surrounded by tubs and piles of
linen suggested vaguely, a pulpit or
speakers stand, perhaps having had all
Sunday to think in, her opinions needed
shaking out and smoothing before they
were laid away for the week. At any
rate, Miss Polly had a way of doing up
| theworld and her washing together.
''Most through, Polly ?" questioned
| Miss Becky, as she always did every half
hour.
"Can't say am," responded Miss Polly
| with snap that shook out pair of wet
hose and her words at the same time;
| mot unless | view my washin' the same
way these new style poets do the robe of
righteousness, and think a mighty little is
| the whole ont. One clean stockin' is
enough 'cordn' to them. No matter how
much mud body has gone into, so he's
managed to keep one foot out. don't
| b'lieve no such !"
"Why, of course; to be sure! ~ ad-
mitted Miss Becky, with mild indefinite
| ness.
Curious what kinds of folks this world
does hold, anyhown' pursued Miss Polly,
gazing meditatively into the depths of her
| tub. ''There's them that has health on
the brain, now-not that their brains is so
particular healthy neither. that | know of;
but they're always talkin' about it.
You must do this, and you mustn't do
t'other, for fear you'll spile your con-
stitution and all your bylaws. Some of
'em says it's a sin to be sick. Pears to
me, If that's 50, the sicker you get the
wickeder you must be, and dyin' would
seem filter to send folks to the penitentiary
than to Heaven. 1t makes things look
considerable mxed.''
"There's the railroad smash-ups, Polly"
suggested Miss Becky. alleviatingly.
'sHumph Well, should think there
was. But everybody can't expect to get
killed that way, though the companies
offer great inducements muttered Miss
Polly.
"Say, Aunt Polly, can't sail ships in
your tub? ?'' interposed small voice; and
pair of blue eyes and a head of yellow
curls appeared in the doorway.
But Miss Polly was too busy to notice,
even when the little navigator took silence
for consent, and plunged into her rinse
water with his treasures. In this general
Strengthening of her mental pantry,
she had Just found another article to be
labeled and put away.
CAN sorts to make world should
think so! There's them reformin' women
what go about lecturin' and wantin' laws
fixed, and men to give 'em their rights
If there's anything they want to do, and
can do, why don't they stop talking and
do it? Who's goin' to hinder 'em
They're just like Mrs. Jones when she
wants to cross the field where the cows
are. She'll stand on the fence and 'shoo,'
and swing her work-bag, and flap her
parasol,' and cry, Get out there = when
the critters are so busy eatin' grass that
they never notice her no way, and she
might cross dozen times if she'd mind
to-"
"And me, too; yes, think so," OBJ
served Miss Becky, counting her stitches.