The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1874-11-20
HOW JERRY CAME HOME.

HOW JERRY CAME HOME.
That fire at the Naples did something
besides making talk for the whole villag,
and scorching up a few rods of old Mrs
Chitt's scattering timber. 1t gave the ole
gentlewoman, who had long been hover
ing doubtfully on the borders of two
worlds very good reason for departing
at last, and leaving a -waited-for es-
tate TO innumerable hungry heirs and law.
yers.
100 much for the old lady, that
scare" neighborly people said, Though
the fire didn't amount to anything; but,
bless your life, she'd hung on SO longr'
implying that the breeze which had
shaken her off at last was all in the way OF
Providence. The truth is, people had be-
gun TO feel that Death, with his hands full
among meaner people and poorer people,
had quite overlooked rich old Mrs. Chitts
in her snug old place at the Naples. There
is certain sense of Justice in these things,
and three-score years and ten is gener-
Gus allowance for lifetime, after all: to
60 beyond it looks covetous, especially il
you have heirs. There were no red eyes
at the old gentlewomans funeral, if you
would except those OF Deborah, the old
lady's humble companion and house
keeper.
"She's made fool of Deb. though; but.
for the matter of that. Deb's always being
made fool of" said Mrs. Thornpin chat
ting 10 a neighbor over her gate. with
brood of bareioOted children behind her.
Mrs. Thornpin was Deborah's alf-sister-
a shrewd and notable woman. with
faded wisp Of hair done up in scant-
ling twist behind. and skewered vixen
ishly back from forehead and ears. ..Yes,
she's made fool of Deb-left without pay
ing her last quarters wages, and give her
the sweepings of her property. just TO set
the whole place talking about us and our
poverty. And after the struggle I've lad
TO keep my head above water. TO have
Deb come back to me like that. with that
ragged bit of sea-shore and that wheezy
old barn of a house behind her, and all
of hazing after that boy OF hers, who'll
never come back, its my belief. III he's
decently dead and buried, its all the harm
| wish him.r
For it seems that Deborah had had her
romance too, years ago. Ii came TO her
in The shape of stray sailor drifting up
the shore one day-a slouching fellow.
with pair OF gypsy black eyes and for
eign look, which the good people of the
village, not being able 10 translate accu-
rately, took to mean evil altogether. shak-
ing their heads omnously, when he ..made
up" to Deb and finally married her. SO
when he led Deb hard life, drank up all
his earnings at the village inn, and finally
cut himself adrift again, going
off without warning into that unknown
somewhere whence he came. and leaving
her with the care of a three-year-old boy, |
and not cent TO support herself. every
body looked ut every body else, and said,
What could you expect.- And there 1
would have been nothing for Deb but to |
go back TO her half-sister's. making one of
a scant,y fed and overpopulated house
hold, il this old gentlewoman at the Ma
piles hadn't turned up and wanted her for
housekeeper.
But Deborah's boy hadn't turned out
well; he grew up a pranksome, wild
young fellow, whom no one saw any good
in the pest of the neighborhood, the de-
stroyer ofmelon patches, an impish young.
ster with no end of dev,ment in him.
Even the most orthodox folk OF the village
sometimes felt themselves constraired to
wonder to what end Jerry was born. Prov
idence seemed to have so little to do with
him. 80 when one fine morning the lad
was up and of like his father before him,
nobody was sorry or surprised but his
mother. A fine summer morning long
ago that was. Many mists had settled on
the sea-sh0re and many SHOWS had whit
enc | the hll-tops since Jerry went away,
buthis mother had been blocking for him
back ever since. Every summer among
The far fitting sails she fanced Jerry's shin
was sailing in, for Jerry had gone for
sailor, OF ceurse-what else? He would
,ome back some day in blue braided ,
acket and floating ribbon as proud and ,
bright as the best of them. That was |
Deb's religion, her one unshaken faith
md even her half-sister, accustomed to {,
xhet the sharp edge of her temper on ,
Deb's shortcomings, was fain TO keep shy :
If this vagary. /
1t is astonishing. after all, how small Z
'ortion of ones self is really owned by !
mes self. Especially inavillage. There's /
he neighborhood, and there's the family, h
nj there's that vague, impalpable thing o
allied the world, which sometimes means h
he NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS., two, three fourths u
1.-The shriyeled portion of selfhood re- h
naming is hardly worth counting upon as h
iock In trade. And Deb had lived In the G
illage till she was almost one of It's tradi- h
ons. Hadn't they known her from n I;
hid, and weren't her whms and oddities
sort of town property, like the salt air Ct
nd the shell-hshs 2
When. therefore, the village learned that Il
Deborah was not coming back to burden fl
or half-sister. but was fairly to move "
ITO that rickety, rheumatic old house ii
her by her eccentric mis-
ress, with Its bare acre or two fraying Ii
~ IN meadow land and sedge to the tide p,
Islng, the village lifted its hands in dep
.cation. and declared il was a tempting al
Providence. So said Mrs. Thornpin,
no, having wrought her courage up to h,
le pitch ofdrilling and scolding Deb for h,