The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1875-04-15

guns was nay uuS tllc uitDio III blio hl0Cncu,
and the other out in the back room IRON
ing, they spoke pretty loud to each
other, and could hear every word they
said, though they didn't hear me knock
and knock. One of them said Don't
tell me about Sail Barker's prudence,
and her being so mighty conscientious
and all that. L warrant you she is as
glad to poke that great long nose of hers
into other peoples business as anybody,
and it is only because she is so contrary
that she likes to keep things to herself.
She feels so important when she has
some great secret that she can keep from
everybody else It is the way she
takes to poster folks And she went on
about old maids in a way that was
scandalous. But 1 am not going to re-
peat it. You may be sure that L felt
pretty well riled up, and L had half n
mind to go straight home; but 1 had
sent my goose and lap-board along, for L
had a jacket to press off for Reuben
Snuffer, and SO concluded to put down
the old Adam, and go right in. l ought
to explain that what set Lyddy Ann out
50 fierce was that her mother had been
taking her to do for letting out some
secrets that had made mischief, and she
had held me up as a pattern. Every
bodEoknows that nothing makes some
people dislike you more than to have
some other people always praising you.
Well, l went in and sat down to break
fast, and they had a buttermilk cake
that Lyddy had made and baked on a
board before the fire on purpose for me,
because she kncw'I liked them so much.
There are some folks that always like to
have you eat their victuals, even if they
hate you. ate it and praized it, though
L hadn't SO much appetite as common,
for kept thinking about my great long
nose, and of being called an old maid.
"We sat pretty much without speak
ing for spell, for the girls mistrusted
that overheard them talk; but before
long Betsy Jane gave little hem to
clear her throat, and observed that they
must be middling busy down at Deacon
Goodman's if Matildy was to be married
in week or two. l said: 'She isn't
to be married till Spring comes; and 1
was going on to tell the rest; but they
didn't give me time to finish.
"'Not till spring. What on earth
could that meanF Now what possessed
me 1 couldn't tell. L don't pretend to
say that did right; but you must re-
member that it was only half an hour
since 1 had heard myself nicknamed and
called an old maid, just because 1
wouldn't tell all 1 knew. well, says 1,
strange things happen sometimes
You haven't heard that the deacon and
his wife have had disagreement, and
are talking of a separation Now, mind,
l didn't tell them that I had heard SO;
only said that they hadn't heard it.
Of course they were amazed beyond all
account. They couldn't say much but
did ever d! and IF that doesn't beat
all ever did hear in my born days =
Their mother wasn't talking woman,
and she asked me if didn't think there
must be some mistake. l said time
would show. But the girls said that
they had noticed for some time how red
Mrs. Goodman's eyes had looked, and
now it was all explained.
&c 1t wasn't long after, as [ sat by a
window at work, L spied Lyddy Ann,
with a shawl over her head, slipping
across from their side gate into Miss
Jones's, and in another half hour L saw
one of the Jones girls, with shawl and
before dinner l counted half a dozen
cape bonnets going hither and yon.
Well, the long and the short of it was,
that by the end of two days there wasn't t
a man Or woman in Shrewsbury that
hadn't heard that Deacon Goodman and
his wife had had great quarrel, that
Mrs. Goodman had cried her eyes out,
and that the match between Josiah and
Matildy was all broken up.
sold Deacon Walker was greatly ex-
ercised in his mind when he found there
was no such thing as putting down the
rumor, for he was peaceable man, and
he and Deacon Goodman had served the
same communicable for many year.
He couldn't bear to go to his brother
about such unpleasant business, though
he didn't believe the stories. After
making it subject of prayer, he con-
cluded it was better that the minister
should take it in hand, and SO to the
minister he went. Parson Snowdon
didn't believe the stories. 1t wasn't
long since he had called at the deacon's,
and all was pleasant enough at that
time. Still, he hated rumOrs and he
hated misunderstanding, and he would
go and put stop to such goings on in
his parish. So in theafternoon the par
sons old yellow chaise went Jogging
and teetering along the road to Deacon
Goodman's house. He hitched his
horse, and then raped at the front door,
instead of going to the side porch as
usual, and Nancy-that was their hired
girl-supposing that he must have come
on some solemn business, took him into
the great solemn parlor, where, ven
ture to say, not one of the family sat
down six times in a year. The deacon
was out doing some fall planting. His
wife brought out his other coat and
helped him spruce up little, and then
he went, with little cough and hem OF
two, and feeling very stiff, into the
great stiff room. How dye do, Parson
Snowdon2 Glad to see you. And how
is your wife?' The parson and his wife
We're both pretty smart, and how was the
deacon and his wife9 Well, both clev-
erly, except that the deacon's rheuma,
tism held on III spite of his good wife's
great care of him, and she herself was
troubled with weak eyes. They looked
red and watered all the time, and panied
her considerable. The parson had no
ticed along back that her eyes had look
ed red, and he was afraid that she was
taking on, maybe, about losing Matilda
so soon. 'Well, no it wasn't exactly
that, for Matildy was going to wait 9
while till her cousin Spring got home,
and then, very likely, his wife would &C
to Boston to stay with her while she sci
up housekeeping. And he told the
rest, about her wishing him to go with