Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1874-04-23
The Storp Trllrr.
THE BAG OF GOLD.

wv ell, COuSll CldTlSSd, ooselFeo oeo' 81
Merriton, who was assiduously engaged IN
entangling the widows work to the very best
or the very worst of his ability, Gin case you
find yourself unequal to the strain, all you
have to do is to leave ME the five thousand
dollars"
"The first thing in the morning." went on
Mrs Peckington, unheeding Mr.. Merrilton's
modest hint, "and the last at night, I'm think
ing about It. First put it in Deacon Elijah
Horizons bank, and then l draw it out again
banks aren't noways safe nowadays. And
then buried it in the east cellar, close to the
apple bin, and there came the deluging rain,
and knowed the cellar would be three inches
deep in water. So up it come again, and then
1 could not rest in my bed, for fear of fire.
So got it changed into gold, and guess it
is safe enough"
"In the bottom of your big red chest ?" mis-
chievously hazarded George.
"No matter where, sir, said the widow,
nodding her head. .
90, but, Cousin Clarissa, you might tell us" !"
persisted Merrilton. awe are all your own
folks, Cora and l."
Cora Dallas sat stitching quietly in the
corner-the pretty orphan whom good Mrs.
Peckington had taken out of the orphan asy-
lum "to bring up" five years before.
II don't expect to leave you nothing" Mrs
Peckington had said, "for I've relations of
my own, but I'll give you a good deestrick
school education, and decent bringing up,
and good chance to do for yourself"
And Cora accepted the good DANES offer
with meek gratitude.
She had grown very pretty in the last few
years, this solitary child of nobody. Dark
eyed, with her hair full of deep chestnut gol-
den shadows, peach-blossom skin, where the
rosy blood glowed brightly through on the
slightest provocat on, and mouth like Hebe,
it seemed as if nature had made solemn
compact with herself to atone for all social
sights that might be cast across Cora Dallass
path.
"Wel," said Mrs. Peckington, seriously, II
don't mind telling you, but mind you don't re-
peat 1.-THE bags hung half way up the Chin
me- on an iron hook"
"But suppose the chimney should take
fire ?" said Merrilton.
"It won't I keep it we'll swept, and be-
sides, if it should, it takes pretty good heat
to melt gold."
upon my word, Cousin Clarissa," said
Merrilton, "you are second Machaivelli."
"Who in pity sakes was he?" asked Mrs.
Peckington. "There's neighbor Simkins at
the door-jump and let him, in Cora, for it's
beginning to snow like all possessed"
And neighbor Simkins came ina broad
faced, jovial agriculturist who lived on the
next farm, and was suspected of matrimonial
designs on the heart of Widow Peckington.
"Sit by, Mr. Simkins," said the widow, hos
pitably, putting another moss-fringed log on
the fire; "seems like we're going to have
another spell of weather.
And while-the widow and her middle-aged
lover discussed the weather, George took occa.
sion to help Cora get down half bushel of
red apples from the garret, and was unneces-
sarily long about it, too.
II should think you would be ashamed of
yourself, George Merrilton,' said Cora, dimp-
ling and blushing, and trying to look very
angry, in which she succeeded but indiferently.
"What for?" audaciously demanded George.
"One doesn't get behind the garret door with
pretty girl every day in the year"
"What would Mrs. Pecking ton say?"
II dare say she's doing the very same thing
herself down stairs with Jehorum Simkins."
And Cora burst out laughing at the prepos-
ferrous idea, just as the widow came for ounce
jelly and apple butter, and to tell Cora to mix
up batch of mullins in the twinkling of an
eye, for neighbor Simkins was going to stay
for tea.
After supper Mr.. Simkins took his leave,
with roguish twinkle in his eye toward the
young people, and Mrs Peckington went over
to spend the evening with Mrs. Dorcas Dottle-
ford, her pet crony, and Cora sat all alone in
the fire light, sewing and signing and think
ing. For George Merrilton had gone home
early to secure Mr.. Simkins companionship
a part of the way through the lonely roads,
which were already becoming yelled in snow.
The tall old-fashioned clock in the angle of
the old-fashioned kitchen chimney had just
struck midnight, when Cora Dallas was reused
from her sleep by sheeted form at the foot
Of her bed-tall and narrow, clad in white
but no ghost, nevertheless, but Mrs. Pecking-
toms SELF
"Whats the matter?" cried Cora, breath
lessly.
"My money! gasped the widow, waving
her hands tragcally in the air.
"But what of it ?"
"It's clean gone, stolen, took away"
care you sure ?" eagerly demanded Cora.
Gas sure as | am that you are staring at
me now I felt up the chimney for it the last
thing afore got ready to 60 to bed, and-it
was gone
In vain proved all search Neither up the
chimney, nor down the cellar, nor in any i'm
aginable or unimaginable corner was the bag
of gold pieces to be found.
''Mrs. Peckington," said Cora, huskily, "it
must have been stolen"
eyes," said Mrs. Peckington, whose lips
were now compressed, and there was some
thing in her manner that Cora never before
noticed, as she called the white-headed farm
boy, and told him to run over and ask Farmer
Simkins to step to the Peckington place that
morning.
"And you may as we'll stop for George Mer-
rilton as you come back" said she.
When he was gone, she came close up to
Cora Dallas.
"Cora," said she, Eve two are alone togeth-
er now, and am the last one to be hard on
you; confess now, and we'll see how the mat
ter can be cleared up"
Cora opened wide her brown eyes.
"Confess what ?" she asked, innocently..
''That you took the money; there was no
one else that could have done it. You were
here all alone yesterday evening, and l know
it was strong temptation to gal that never
had FIVE dollars of her own in the world.
Cora, you're young, child, and don't believe
you're altogether bad, but Satan sits US all
as wheat, and"
"Stop!' cried Cora, growing white and
breathless "you suspect me-you think am