The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1876-05-20
The Widow in the L.

: It had been Mrs Butterkin's doiDgs
letting the l.. Mr. Butterkin had oh
jected to the proceeding, but mildly, al
was becoming in the good humored hus
band of 'whimmy" wife, so prone
to tears that there seemed some
foundation for her pet apprehension that
her "blood was turning to water
Grievously tormented by nerves, she
onged for womanly sympathy, and or
MIR. Ebbeson's decease, nothing would dc
but his widow should sell her farm and
occupy the Butterkin l.; for had no,
Ruth and she been dear friends from
girlhood After due deiberatioD, Mrs
Ebbeson came, having first secured a life
lease Of the building.
A busy little woman was Ruth Ebbe.
son, as she had need to be- her intemper.
ate, worthless husband having left her
barely enough to make both ends meet
If she would lap them comfortably. il
must be by her ow3 exertions with the
needle. And as she sat cheerily stitch.
ing by her invalid mothers couch, Mrs
Butterkin would often run in with beans
to pick over or apples to pare. while on
rainy days, o5edient to his wifes sugges.
tions, Mr.. Butterkin did many a neigh.
borly turn iu the way Of carpentry, The
two families we're almost as one. Indeed
the letting Of the l. seemed provident
arrangement for all parties. 1t was re.
lief to Mrs. Ebbeson to be rid of her
farm; it was well that her mother should
be within easy access of physician
Especially was it of advantage to Mrs
Butterkin to enjoy cheerful companion.
ship, and whatever was Of advantage to
Mrs. Butterkin necessarily affected Mr..
Butterkin.
Thus years glided on, bringing mental
vigor to the nerve.diseased Mrs. Butter.
kio She had never seemed in better
health than in that fatal spriag when she
was prostrated by pneumonia, death
stricken from the first.
"The Lord wills it, Ruth, and | don,
feel to murmur,' she whispered, with dy-
ing grace "but husband II miss me, |
know, You'll keep an eye on him, won,
you, d,ar, when | am gone, and make
him comfortable ?"
Mrs. Ebbeson sobbed promise but
after Mr.. Butterkin's bereavement she
found the covenant embarrassing, for ir
this subluuary world of ours widow who
"keeps her eye" on widower challenges
unpleasant comment, and little Mrs. Eb
beson deprecated the speech OF people
Consequently, though she conscientiously
ministered to Mr. Butterkin's comfort, il
was in unobtrusive ways not suspected by
him, and hardly realized by the niece
who kept his house. The door between
the two sitting-rooms no longer, as for
merly, stood invitingly ajar but wa:
hasped upon the widows side. She
never passed through it now, save in the
gentleman's absence, when she occasion
ally assisted the inexperienced Esther il
compounding his favorite dishes. or sur
reptitiously possessed herself of his fine
mending With his wiie's demise the
old free and. easy life had ended. They
we're two distinct households, growing
further and further apart, as the weec
upon the widower's hat waxed rusty be
meath accumulated months of mourning
1t could scarcely have been otherwise
The closed door was but symbol of th,
barrier which, in the very nature o
things, must exist between the bereavet
Mr.. Butterkin and tho similarly beresvet
Mrs. Ebbeson. When a right.hanC
glove has lost its mate, and left ha
met with a like calamity. one naturally
desires to fit the remaining two together
if haply they may make pair. and tn,
widow shrunk sensitively at the though
of the neighbors thus mentally matchin,
herself and Mr.. Butterkin. As far a
in her lay she tried to make it apparent
to them that the twain were two cd,
ones, which could by no possibility b.
mated.
But not SO the gentleman 10 question
That people should gossip never entere,
his head. II in Roxanna's lifetime. t
please her, he had done her dear Rut
frequent neighborly fayors, all the NOR
would he do them now that Roxanna la
cold in death. And as day after da
went by, and he felt more and NOR
closely drawn to the cheerful, bright
, eyed widow, the simple man believed thi
was solely for his departed wife's sake
, She had been dead a year and day
when Mrs Ebbeson whisked out upo
) the doorstep one warm July morning t
shake the tablecloth.
, 30 my stars !" calculated she, lookin
not into the armament. bnt straight earth
ward at her hens darting hither and yo
. for the breakfast crumbs. In the mid.
Of the flock bristled two Brahmas, wit
sulleD eyes and feathers on end, clucL
ing for chickens that were not.
Anything wrong, Mrs. Ebbeson 2"
Mr.. Butterkin paused on his way fror
!. tie barn with the milk.
"Only these Brabmas, Mr.. Butterkir
r I've broken them up, and broken ther
j.. up, out they will set." (Mrs. Ebbeso
was reared in q rural part of Now Er
gland where hens never "sit.")
/ "Well. why not let 'em 2"
"Iu Julyf Now, Mr.. Butterkio !"