Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1874-10-23
ALL A MISTAKE.
BY J.. H. FOOTE

BY L. H. FOOTE
Mrs ALvORD said d" it was shame"
Mrs. Denton wondered how she dared
thus to impose upon people, while a
score of mesdames and half q score of
Mr.. danes, gratified at somebody's ver-
sion of something that did not happen,
rolled the tit-bit under and off their
tongues with the gusto of gourmands.
1t all happened in the quiet little town
of Carlton, where the people mean to be,
and are, good and kind as the world
goes; but somehow mistakes will occur,
and human nature is prone to accept the
wrong version of things, and then it is so
pleasant to
Put horns on the heads of our friends,
Put intrigues in the heads of their wives"
"To think" said Mrs. Denton, that
Fanny Howard, the daughter of a con-
victed felOn, should come here to teach
our children and put on such airs!
never liked the girl; | always thought
there was something wrong about her.
The brand of shame is plainly to be seen
behind her smiling face"
Mrs. Denton's ideas of right and wrong
hinged entirely upon what Mrs. Smith,
Mrs Tracy and Mrs. Williams might
think and that social conclave had al
ready convened ana decided.
GAS for me-" said Mrs. Smith, 81 shall
never speak to her again. | shall take
Benny from the school at once, and |
think we should ignore her entirely"
Mrs. Smith was the wife of that very
important functionary, the village justice.
The counterpart of her phlegmatic hus-
band she was tall and angular, sharp in
feature and sharp in tongue. Her house
IL r 41,o ,Fyrrr
devious of that female--l had almost
said feline-inquest which seems to per-
tain to small communities. God, in His
goodness, had given her one child-the
aforesaid Benny-as if thereby to soften
the asperitIes Of her nature. What she
might have been without the gift we can
only conjecture. 1T is therefore impOssi-
BILE to estimate just what part Benny had
played in the softening process.
Twelve months prior to the matters re-
lated Fanny Howard had come to the
village of Carlton, in answer to an adver-
tisement for a sChool-teacher, bringing
letters and Communications which had
secured for her the place sought. For
one year Fanny had taught the school
with much satisfaction; her sweet face
and gentle ways had won the hearts of
the children, while her zeal and con-
scientious discharge of duties had won
the appreciation of the parents. AS the
last quarter was drawing to a close, a
stranger, staying for night at the inn,
had seen the school-mistress on the street,
and upon being informed who she was
had replied: "I thought [ was not mis-
taken; / have seen her before; her
father is in the States prison at N"
Upon all the invisible wires of social
intercourse the news flew; the very birds
of the air seemed to whisper it; that con-
centrated battery of pent-up country life
expended it's force in circulating the fact
AS Fanny passed, inquisitive groups
gathered at the street corners, the women
watched her from the windows, the
children even, silent and shy, seemed to
avoid her.
"What can all this mean?" said Fanny,
her eyes filling with unshed tears, and
the specter of pain haunting her face.
ooh, that Mrs. Carlton was here; she
would not desert me-"
Mrs. Carlton was the widow of the late
Col. Henry Carlton, after whom the town
had been named. The Carlton estate
extended for ten miles in every direction !;
its broad acres stretched from mountain
to mountain, embracing the entire val
u
hundred hills. The family mansion was
situated two miles from the town, in the
midst of charming grounds, beautifully
planted and laid out. 1t was a plain,
substantial, comfortable home, with broad
porches, wide halls and ample rooms,
wonderfully suggestive of hospitality.
From the first Mrs. Carlton had taken
10 ranny rUquenU 1nviGat1UnS nau ueen
extended for her to pass the weekly holi-
days at The Grange"-as the place was
called-while Harry, the only son and
heir, a stout, manly young fellow of
twenty-five, helped amazingly to make
the hours pass pleasantly; there were
walks and drives and dinners and croQuet
parties under the trees and music and
dancing in the moonlight. Now, alas I!
Mrs. Carlton and Harry were absent and
our heroine, depressed by the weight of
an intangible something, YEARLY bore
the new burden.
1t was the last day of the term; on the
following Monday, the 1st of May, was
to be held the annual picnic, an old coun-
try fete revived by Col. Carlton for his
people, as he was wont to call them De-
lightful grounds in the hills, two miles
away, had been set apart for this pur-
pose; there were groves of trees, plats of
SItCuSWd dlO SInNl SltI lllluS UltS Ol seem
cry; a mountain stream came tumbling
down from the hills in succession of
waterfalls, forming at their base a tiny
lake, where the ferns and the flowers
seemed most to luxuriate.
The May-day sun broke bright and
clear, as it always does in this Arcadia,
tinging the mountain peaks with Grim
son and filling the valley with yellow am.
per. There was an early and unwonted
stir in the village and farm-houses
troops of merry children were congre
gated in the streets and lanes, happy as
the birds which gave them greeting
Venlcles of all descriptions were to be
seen vending Their way to the grounds
Tables had been spread, booths had been
constructed, May-pole garlanded with
flowers had been erected. There was to
be dinner, poem, songs and dancing,
of the May"