Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1875-02-08
An Old Maids Husband.

lingfOrd.
Mrs. Millingford had been Miss Nan
cy PoppletOn-a plump old maid, fat,
fair and forty, with a plethoric bank ac-
count. two brown-stone houses, and any
amount of railroad shares and she had
been married not quite three months to
debonnair Harry MillingfOrd. when Hes
ter Harper erept, sort of feminine SER
pent. into the Eden of her domestic hap.
piness.
Il don't suppose it's any of my bust
ness" said Miss Harper. with a toss of
her black velvet bonnet. And / make
point of never interfering in any of
my neighbor's affairs. But still, Nancy,
you and l were school friends, and
think you ought to know that Henry
drove Sallie Archer up to the Central
Park twice. and took her to the opera
once, while you were gone to visit your
sick aunt in Clarksdale. And-now
that you ask the question-every one
knows that he never would have married
you if it hadn't been for your money"
''Humph 20 commented Mrs. Milling
ford. She had had an uneasy inkling
of the same fact IN her mind before. but
for all that, it wasn't particularly agree
able to have it thrown at her. like u
wOrdy bOmb-shell in this remarkably
/ plain and unceremonious manner.
"Sallie Archer is pretty" went on
the tormentor.
II don't fancy that bold, black-eyed
style, for all the world like wax doll
in shop window" viciOusly returned
the bride.
Your husband does, it seems" OBJ
served Miss Hester, maliciOusly.
"My husband is my own business"
said Mrs. MillingfOrd, goaded beyond
human endurance.
"Yes, when you're at home" said
Miss Harper. calmly. ''And Sallie Arch
er's when you are gone. But l see you
are in no mood to listen calmly to rea-
son. did suppose that the advice of
an old friend"
"Oid enough, for goodness sake :"
flashed out Nancy Millingford. There's
do denying that. Hester"
NO older than yourself, Nancy Not
a day" sputtered the irate spinster.
'And if | haven't got Mrs tackled
onto my name, that's no reason why
should stay here to be insulted."
And away went Miss Hester Harper
in towering rage.
Mrs. Millingford leaned her chin on
her hands and reflected. As we have
before intimated. she had not been with
out her misgivings already, and Miss
Harper's hints, unpalatable though they
were. served to add fuel to the fire.
''He said was an angel, she thought.
.'He vowed be did not care for dross.
And / believed him. although l knew
all the while that he was fve-and-tweu-
ty and forty years old What a fool
| was, now that look calmly back on
it. He always fancied Sallie Archer
folks have told me that from the begin
ming. And-yes, yes, Betsey-what is
it?"
Betsey, the cook, advanced with a
document between her aproned thumb
aud finger
"Plase, Miss Naney-Mrs. Milling
ford, mane-it's the man wants yez to
sign receipt for three baskets of cham.
pagne, as master has just sent up
More champagne - Mrs. Milling
ford elevated her brows Very we'll.
Betsey."
A little writing desk Of inlaid wood
occupied the centre of the bay window.
Mrs Millingford opened it. signed the
receipt, and carelessly drew scented
blOtting-pad across the fresh ink. A:
she did so she looked more closely. bit
her lip and contracted her brows.
"Take your receipt, Betsey. said she
and walking towards the window. she
held up the blOtting- paper to the light.
NY Darling .Sallie -
Yes, there was the vague impression
Of the words in her husbands bold chi
rOgraphy, left there by his own careless
hand. Ny Darling .Sailis p AnC
she, his welded wife. stood there anC
witnessed them.
Rather a devoted style. considering
he's married to me. she thought to her
= self. "Humph | wonder what's bes
to be done now"
Mrs. Millingford took the advice o
"HiDts to Young Wives" and met be
husband with smile" when be cam,
home to dinner that day.
:, Dear Harry. " purred she. like tb,
accomplished old feline that she was. -.
am so sorry. but must leave you again.
Leave me again. Nanny, wha
: for ?'' he asked. with his mouth full 0
/ lobster-salad.
n Another telegram from dear aun
L Bethiah."
# What that old woman again % sal,
e irreverent Harry. lit seems to me tha
e she's deuce Of time dying. But j
fe you must 90. my dear"