Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1876-05-16

"Oh, my stars!" calculated she, look
Ing not into the ornament. but straight
earihward at her hens dartiug hther and
yon for the breakfast crumbs. In the
midst OF the flock bris,led two Brahmas.
with sullon eyes and feathers on end,
clucking for chickens that were not.
Anything wrong, Mrs. Ebbesou ?"
Mr.. Butterkln paused on his way from
the harm with the milk.
Only these Brahmas, Mr.. Butterkin.
I've broken 'em up and broken 'em up,
but they 1rll set" (Mrs. Ebbesou had
been reared in rural part OF New Eng
land where hens never "sit y
"Wen, why not let 'emP"
"In July? Now, Mr.. Butttrkin"
Then supposing you tie red yarn
about their feet ,"
why, they'd peek my eyes on"
laughed the widow, dexterously folding
the table cloth in its former creases.
She was sorry the moment she had said
it. tor My Butterkin at once offered to
assist in the girdling process. Why
should he not? Yet as he held the hens.
first one and then the other, while she
bound about the right leg of each the
ant-incublting anklet she was inwardly
agila,ed, and could not help being thank
tul 1t was cary morning, and they were
not likely to be seen OF plsser-by.
No such feeling periurbed Mr.. Butter
kin. lie was honestly glad to help
RoXana's irieud-5ecause she had been
her friend. be would have said if he had
thought about the matter at all and in
the kindness OF his heart he presently
asked il the chickens bran was not
getting low. He was going 10 the vii
lsge; should ne call at tho mill?
"Or. if you have any errands, | can
take you over as well as not" he added,
as an e0erIhought, and was mildly be-
wildered at seeing the sudden flush on her
face as she hurriedly answered that she
had no errands.
Picking up the milk pail, in which the
(roth had percep,ibly settled, he walked
away with troubled expression. He
hoped Ruth hadn't any hard feeling
toward him. What could have made her
color up so? And then it occurred to
him tha. though he had asked her often,
he was sure, she had not ridden with him
for a long wLile-not siuce-why. not
since RoXana died, and his own face
flushed under the dawn OF new idea
Ruth was afraid the neigh5ors might talk.
Strange he hadn't thought OF it before.
Dear dear what limid little woman
she was
As he logged lonesomely along in the
grea, wagon which used to carry two,
and seemed dismally empty with one,
be could no. bauish her from his mind,
aud he began gradually to realize how
constantly she had been in i. OF late
What had made her manner so distan,
these months past ? Was it fear Of village
gossip, or did she really dislike him d? lie
wished he knew; yes, he did wish he
knew : and he ierked the reins ,unwittingiy
wouuding the feelings OF his faithful
roam, conscicntiously tro,ting her best.
Turning in at his own gate, arebellious
clamor from Mrs. Ebbeson's hennery
greeted his ear. Alas for his vain attempt
10 overcome maternal instinct Hardly
bad he lett their sight when the clucking
Brahmas sought their nest, where the
little widow found them bill 10 bill, the
scarlet anke-,ies hidden beneath the
straw. SIX times she dislodged them ;
six times they reinstaled themselves; and
now at noon the:e they sat brood over
the pile of bricks she had heaped IN their
nest, winking their small round eyes al
ner in lazy triumph! II was too much.
Was an immortal woman TO be outwi,ted
by couple OF finite hens? The little
widow renewed the conflict, but not dar-
ing TO lay hands again upon the beilige-
rent bipeds. she resorted 10 the discreet
expedient of poking AT them through the
open window, thus aifording 10 Mr..
Rn,,e,kip. as he rounded the corner, q
confused vision of agitated calico dane
ino about q distracted rake handle.
What setting again, Mrs. Ebbeson ?"
The small lady, till then unconscious ol
the genueman's proximity. hastily with
drew her head from the window and
looked down 10 some confusion from her
perch on an inverted barrel.
"Yes, they're setting again; but It's
inst as well-just exactly as well" said
she. rather iucoherently, narrowed 6y the
fear lest she were displaying her ankles.
"Now, now, We must see about this, "
responded Mr.. Butterkin, fishing IN his
pocket for a ball of twine he bad bought
that day for q stringing to the tomatoes,
and mean while glancing over his shoul-
der. apparently to assure himself that the
orchard was where it should be. He
would have liked nothing better than TO
If, the widow down, but his instinct told
him she would prefer to descend by her,
sell. unobserved, and he was man capa-
HE of selt.sacrifice. well lie tho hens
~ the fence" he added, presently, con-
scious OF a thrill OF delight as he pro-
nounced the we