Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1875-07-30

liz ItSuIllCu lllS WOlh3 dnu ViiO gu
scarcely cheefed by his little episode, went
with heavy heart, upstairs.
Mrs Weston was so i'll she was lying
on her bed. The candle was in her room
and in the parlor CRATE burnt a few sparks
of fire, over which was Il saucepan. On
the table was Il tea-tray, and IL portion OF
IL previous days loaf 1t was such de-
pressing welcome home after the weary,
weary day, that with difficulty the poor
girl could control her emotion.
els that you, Clare?" inquired the
widows feeble voice.
eyes, mother"
''Colhe to me, my child"
Clare pressed her white hands to her
bosom, made an effort and passed into the
bed room But her mothers first words
beat down all her noble-sould heroic self
repression.
s'Clare, dear, you had better success to-
day?'
The girl dropped to a chair, and burying
her face On the coverlet, burst into
paroxysm of weeping.
ssNo, mother" she sobbed Historically.
'sIt's the same old, old story; | can get
nothing. What shall we do? feel heart
broken.'
s'Clare, Clare, my child" calculated the
mother, fondly embracing her. do not
give way! What, indeed, will become OF
us, then! My brave, brave girl. do not
weep thus!'
s'Pray, let me, mother; shall be. better
after it."
She, apparently, was right, for at the
end of few moments she looked up
calmer, her tears ceased.
ssThere," she smiled, II am better now.
It's good to give Way at times. you know.
At least one can't help it, and our lot is
50 hard, but we will get used tc it,"
s'Hard! it breaks my beast to contem-
plate it, when l think Of you, Clare. What
IL different future did l and your father
intend you, love- But who could i'm
imagine such villain as John Burge ever
existed?"
''Ah, me-ah, me! to look around at this
place, and remember the pleasant home
which once was ours! Now, we are alone
with not single friend in the world
s'Not one! Oh, yes, mother, believe me,
one!" cried the girl, quickly. "He-Gil-
bert-will be true-trust me, he will"
Why, then, Glare, has he not written?"
II do not know-I cannot tell,'' ex-
claimed the daughter, piteously, "but, oh,
pray, mother, do not take that hope from
me! Let me believe in Gilbert. 1t is my
only support in this bitter misery"
The widow, touched with pleading
countenance, was about to reply when,
interrupting herself, she said, Glare,
hear some one in the parlor. See who it
is, dear"
The girl obsyed, and stared at the weird
scene she beheld.
Seated before the CRATE, on tire e-legged
stool, sat the cobbler, yet in the leather
apron and cap. On his knee was bel
lows, which he was working with co nsum-
mate skill, evidently a master OF the art,
sending the Goals into bright blazes that
threw flashes Of lurid color over the quaint
figure and the room.
Upon hearing Clare, he turned, almost
with a snarl
ssHow do you expect to boil a saucepan
with such fire as this?" he groWled.
ssNever was halter mad as you, Pm GER
tain. Now look at that: ain It it picture?''
Clare did look. and saw that not only
were the Goals increased, but that they
were not from their own store.
''It was quite cheering" she managed
to say, ssbut-I fear, Mr.. Crayshaw, you
have been robbing yourself"
'Robbing myself? -me?-not bit. I'm
a mser. Didn't you hear the boys call
me so-Jerry, the miser?" he snapped. 81
am q miser, and I'm proud of it. Some
men are called painter and poet. Well,
Pm called cobbler and miser."
Really" said Clare little amused and
a little frightened, looking at the glowing
Goals; Il should have scarcely thought
So"
s'That shows your ignorance, respond
ed Jerry. Cant you see my calculation,
it's cheaper to keep up one gOOd nfe tnall
two small ones? So I'm going to sit by
yours. Also, clubbing two persons tea
together is cheaper than taking it alone.
It makes only one fire for the pot neces-
sary. You perceive, now, am mlser
I want to make, my tea here"
Glare looked at the table; upon it was
a new loaf, fresh butter, eggs. and neat
package Of tea.
sOh, MI. Crayshaw-' she began.
care you going to refuse?" he snapped
s'Mayn't I have tear
CHOW could l refuse"--she began, whel
he interrupted her by:
eThen don't lose time. See to the ket
tie. III boil the eggs"
Similar behavior from some people mlgh
have given offense, but there was quaint
odd way about Jerry that robbed II o
that power. He was so odd, and snapped
and snarled as if really his suggestion wa
the result OF deep-rooted meanness instea
of the contrary. Mrs. Weston did max
some demur, but Jerry shut her up a
once.
II see. She's frightened at your takln