Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1874-06-19
The Leisure Hour.
TAKING 1T FOR GRANTED.

With marks of rough, stormy life all
over him, a man of about ilty years, gray
and sun burnt, sat in my Office. found him
there when ! went in one morning not long
ago.
"Here is somebody waiting for you, E.
well" said Mr.. Bigelow.
looked around, and the man rose aud
held out his hand.
"Averil-my name is Averill," said he,
looking sharply at me out of a pair of
shrewd gray eyes. 81 am an old friend Of
your mother, but have not met her for a
matter Of Ave and twenty years. SO l
thought I'd call and ask after her and her
family"
"I am glad to see you," said l. "Are you
a relative OF my mother?"
mo" replied Mr.. Averill. ave were
of the same name, but not connected-un-
less 1t may be very distantly. / 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 Augusta now?'
"She is living with her children in Port
land" said /.
pretty well, is she, do you know
asked Mr.. Averill.
"Very well 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 a rough nugget oi
! gold that hung as a charm from his watch
| chain.
hadn't much TO do that day, so I talked
| off and on with my visitor till il was time
to go home, and then took him along with
me. l left him in the sitting room and
| went TO find mother. She was mixing bis
cults for supper, looking through her glass
es, and singing snatch OF some old, half
forgotten love ditty of her youth.
"Motherr said |, breaking in upon heI
song. "Come in the other room. An old
friend of yours wants to see you"
| Mother looked up over her glasses.
| "An old friend2 'Tisn't any of the Maine
folks, is itP" she asked.
| Because, if it was so much as a dog that
had trolted across a corner of the State o
Maine, on his four legs, mother would have
run, with her arms out and a smile of wei
dough off her hands. As it was, with only
an indefinite thought of seeing ian ole
friend" she went, with dust of -four on
her nose, and without her company cap.
As soon as she had stepped inside the sit
ting room door, she stood and looked a
her guest, and he stood and looked at her.
at is SAM" as true as you are born,
she said at last.
Then they both laughed, and then they
| hni mi ihair ihnnulN thaU didn't
seem like that sort of people, especial.
Mr.. Avetill.
| never knew mother to forget her house
keeping before, but this time she let III
biscuits burn till they were black as m.
shoes, and when she mixed some more sh
put in sugar instead Of salt, and left on
saleratus altogether. But her cheeks grew
pink, and her cap strings flew, and she no
her guest seemed to know the difference.
"Oh, honeyr cried my mother, hopping
up from the tea table as soon as she wa
seated. "You haven't lost your .sweC
tooth, have you, SamH"
"How do you rememberw returne
Sam, admriugly.
~ should think 1 ought TO-" answere
my mother with a girlish laugh. 18th
way you used to pick up walnuts 10 carr
to the cross roads store and trade for me
lasses and make candy of! Speaking {
the cross roads store, wonder If you kno'
our old storekeeper's daughter, she tbs
was Sarah Curly, had lost her husbandf p
mo, has she2 Strange l never heard I
It," replied Mr.. Averill, appearing as al
+, tonished as though he had been hsarin
from his old neighbors every week.
Eyes" said my mother. "She marie
one of old 81 Seaver's boys, the oldest on
Jonathan, and he died sudden,-all at one
we'll, it must be something like half do
en- years agO,-and left his wife and so mi
ny children-five children, or else six,
don't know which,"
"You don't say |" calculated Mr.. Ave
. i'll, passing his honey plate for the thir
time. No, evidently he had not lost h
sweet tooth.