Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1873-10-17
The Leisure Hour.
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Perhaps l am a, little too hasty, little
too ready TO light up at minutes notice
but there are some words that seem to me
TO carry an especial grain of gunpowder in
them, and the above is one of o. the sort.
To have person, after you've been through
long explanation, put his fingers to his
mental ears and query you thus, or, worse
still, "Haow?" is too exasperating for hu-
man nature TO bear. But that is what John
Stringer did to me, bending his head q lit
tie nearer. and speaking in an absent, ag-
gravating manner that tantalized me be-
yond words.
You see John Stringer and l were engag-
ed we'd been engaged for a long time,
and perhaps had got to be little too mat
ter o'course to each other.
We were sitting there over the fire, after
the folks had gone TO bed, and fell to tell
ing him about Sophie Mills wedding-her
white silk dress, her bride-cake, and her
bridesmaids frosted all over TO match it,
and ended this way:
"But it don't make any difference, John,
to people that love each other; all that's O.
no more account than last years snow-drift.
They could be married in calico and home
spun, with their feet on rag carpet like
this, and love each other just as WELL"
"How ?" said John, absently. He was
watching the Goals flicker up and die out
then to fling on the embers-a fashion he
had when he was thinking.
Now had had the headache all day, and
/ guess was rather more tindery than us
ual, though I didn't think so then; but
when John bent his great broad shoulders
over, as if he hadn't heard word / said, and,
in fact, had something better TO occupy his
mind, just fired up, first, and then the
blaze died down into sulks, and when we
parted that night John and 1 had had our
first and last quarrel.
My heart did not misgive me that when
saw Johns great tall figure going out the
door it the last time he'd lift the latch for
many year; but so it was.
You see, 1 held my head pretty high in
those days, and 1 wouldn't show that was
bit cut up about it, so paired Off with
| Mrs. Plumbers Jesse, likely, spruce
young fellow enough, but no more to be
compared with John than cockle-shell is
to hrigantine.
| Oh, well, mother sighed, and tried right
hard to bring us together again, but it was
not to be.
| John was a powerful, muscular man, and
1 used to see him go up the road many a
time when was out in the shed milking,
and, peel ing at him through the chinks, !
thought his broad shoulders stopped more
than ever, and his figure was growing more
stalky like. Such an awkward fellow as
John was l came near rushing out on
him once, in my sun-bonnet and with my
sleeves rolled up, and flinging my arms
right round his neck but John liked tc
see folks tidy, and never did 1t.
Jesse Plumber was the beau Of the vii
lage-dapper, neat, and dainty as yor
please; and all the girls thought I hat
como to my senses when l ousted 'em o
Jess. And by-and-by it was Jess that cam'
sparkling O. nights, and sat o. winter eve
nings over the embers, and he was so soft
spoAen and pleasant that even mother for
got her vexation. (She always set stor
by John, mother did, Well, in the sprinI
we were married. Jesse and me, and ha,
a string of pearls and real silk brlda
dress, and / felt kind o. lifted like whe
the girls crowded round me and hoped l.,
be happy. hoped so too; 1 wasn't sure c
it.
Remembering the days that came after,
= can't recall one hard word / ever hear
8 from Jesse. We weren't near enough
Q each other to quarrel we just laid apal
o like two odd volumes; there wasn't an
fire 'twixt us, nor any thing 'twixt us, o
ther love or laughing, whereas John and
Q had always been bubbling over one wa
and another.
p worked hard, for my silk dress an
necklace were all i had of riches and
cut up the gown one day to make cloa
for the baby. You see, couldn't give u
my pride, and was just as high-sprted I
= ever. But our farm didn't prosper, al
Jess didn't prosper; and Mrs. Plumb'
came TO live with us TO look after thing
- she said; and she got TO plying him ever
now and then for marrying poor VIII
and-oh, well, what's the use o. talking ?
5. sometimes / couldn't help wishing Jof
Stringer's strong shoulders were at Il
wheel, when was working myself
death morning and night for nothing