Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-03-19

TAKING IT FOR GRANTED.

and sunburnt, sat in my office. found
him there when | went in one morning
not long ago.
Here is somebody waiting for You,
Elwell," said Mr. Bigelow.
looked around, and the man rose and
held out his hand.
"Averll-my name is Averill, - said he,
looking sharply at me out of pair of
shrewd gray eyes. II am an old friend
of your mother, but have not met her
for matter of five-and-twenty years. So
thought I'd call and ask after her and
her family"
81 am glad to see YOU" said l. care
you relative of my mother?"
NO." replied Mr.. Averill. I'VE were
OF the same name, but not connected
unless it may be very distantly. l used
to know her and her folks, though, as
well as did my own sisters, and better,
too. Let's see-where is your Aunt Au-
gusta now p''
"She is living with her children in Port
land" said |.
Pretty well, is she, do you know 9'
asked Mr.. Averill.
Very we'll when we heard last. Aunt
Augusta has good children and pleasant
home, and seems quite happy"
"Um-m-m-m! That is NICE" said Mr.
Averill, fumbling at u rough nugget OF
gold that hung as charm from his watch
chain.
hadn't much to do that day, SO talked
eff and on with my visitor till it was time
to 90 home, and then took him along with
me. | lett him in the sitting room and
went to find mother. She was mixing
biscuits for supper, looking through her
0I la CO nj Oh min otnh <xcn I'D
half-forgotten love-ditty of her youth.
Mother !" said /, breaking in upon her
song. "Come in the other room An old
friend of yours wants to see you"
Mother looked up over her glasses.
AN old friend? 'Tisnt any of the Maine
folks, is it P" she asked.
Because, if it was so much as dog that
had trotted across corner of the State of
Maine, on his four legs, mother would
have run, with her arms out and a smile
of welcome without stopping to even
wash the dough off her hands As it was,
with only an indefinite thought of seeing
ian old friend, y she went, with dust OF
flour on her nose, and without her COM
pany cap
As soon as she had stepped inside the
sitting room door, she stood and looked
at her guest, and he stood and looked at
her.
at is Sam, as trre as you are born ~
she said, at last.
Then they both laughed, and then they
both wiped their eyes, though they didn't
seem like that sort of people, especially
Mr.. Averil.
l never knew mother to forget her
housekeeping before, but this time she let
the biscuits burn till they were black as
my shoes and when she mixed some
more she put in sugar instead of salt, and
left out saleratus altogether. But her
cheeks grew pink, and her cap strings
flew, and she nor her guest seemed to
know the difference.
"Oh, honey! cried my mother, hopping
up from the tea-table as soon as she was
seated. "You havn't lost your sweet tooth,
have you, Sam %
How do you remember :" returned
Sam, admiringly.
'l should think ought to-" answered
my mother, with girlish laugh. THE
way you used to pick up walnuts to carry
to the crossroads store and trade for mo-
lassess and make candy of! Speaking OF
the crossroads store. wonder ifyou know
our old storekeeper's daughter, she that
was Sarah Curly, has lost her husbands" ."
mo. has she Strange never heard
Of it," replied MIR. Averill, appearing as
astonished as though he had been hearing
from his old neighbors every week.
"Yes," said my mother. "She married
one of old 81 Seaver's boys, the oldest one,
Jonathan, and he died sudden,-all at
once WELL it must be something like halt
a-dozen!years ago,-and left his wife and
so many children-five children or six, |
don't know which,"
"You don't say.' calculated Mr.. Aver
i'll, passing his honey plate for the third
time. No, evidently he had not lost his
sweet tooth.
Alter supper. mother washed up the dish
es and talked, and Mr.. Averill smoked his
pipe and listened. 1t was the first time |
ever allowed anybody to smoke in my
house, but had nothing to say now. 1
even filled his pipe and lighted it for him.
And then he told the story Of his life,
which had been full of strange and inter-
esting adventures. He was evidently
man who did not read much and who could
not have written well, but he could talk.
not always grammatically, perhaps, but
always with force and fascination.
1t seemed that years and years ago, his
father and my mothers father lived in
town in the valley of the kennebec. My
mothers father was large farmer and
Mr.. Averills father was very small far
mer with Il very large family. So the
youngest son, Sam, came to work for my
grandfather. My mother and my aunt
Augusta were young girls-they were
twins, and, suppose by the way they
look now they must have been pretty then.
My mother was early engaged and mar
ried to my father; but there was Augusta,
and there was Sam, and where one was
you might usually find the other near at
hand. Sam never said anything he was
not of demonstratvc kind, but he knew
how he felt, and he supposed Augusta
knew too.
So the years budded and blossomed and
brought forth fruit, until at last Sam went
down to Connecticut to take charge of u
saw-mill for an uncle Of his. lie wrote to
Aunt Augusta and Aunt Augusta wrote to
him and now and then he came to Maine
on business, always going to my gradfath-
er's before he went home, and carrying
himself toward Augusta like an accepted