Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1876-07-27
The Widow in the L.

ting the l.. Mr.. Bntterkin had objected to
the proceeding. but mildly, us was becoming z
In the good-humored husband of q ''whim.
my" wife, so prone to tears that there
seemed some foundation for her pet appre.
hension that her blood was turning to wa
ter" Grievously tormented by nerves. she
longed for womanly sympathy, and on Mr..
Ebbeson's decease, nothing would do but
his widow should sell her farm and occupy
the Butterkin l.; for had not Ruth and she
been dear friends from girlhood? After
due delberation Mrs. Ebbeson came, hav-
ing first secured life lease of the building
A busy little woman was Ruth Ebbeson,
as she had need to be, her Incorporate
worthless husband having left her barely
enough to make both ends meet. II she
would lap them comfortably. it must be by
her own eXertions with the needle. And
as she sat cheerily stitching by her invalid
mothers couch, Mrs. Butterkin would
often run in witE beans to pick over or ap-
piles to pare. while on rainy days, obedlent
To his wife's suggestions, Mr.. Butterkin
did many neighborly turn In way Of car
pentry. The two families were almost as
one. Indeed, the letting of the l. seemed
provideut arrangement for ali parties. 1t
was a relief to Mrs Ebbeson to be rid of
her farm; 1t was well that her mother
Sitbuit bt "lAith aIttSs VI DtlS
Especially was it of advantage to Mrs.
Bntterhin 10 enjoy cheerful counpanionship
and whatever was OF advantage to Mrs.
Buttetkin necessarily affected Mr. Butter
Kin.
Thus years glided on, bringing mental
yigor to the nerve diseased Mrs. Butter
Kin. She had never seemed in better health
than IN that fatal spring when she was
prostrated by pneumonia, death-stricken
from the first.
The Lord wills it, Ruth, and don't feel
10 murmur, she whispered with dying
grace; but .husband'll miss me, know.
fou'll keep an eye on him, won't you,
dear, when am gone, and make him com
fOrtablc:
MIS-. Ebbeson sobbed a promise; but
after MI. Butterkin's bereavement she
found the covenant embarrassing. for Ia
this sublunary world of ours a widow who
keeps her eye on widower' challenges
unpleasant comment, AMI little Mrs. Ebbe-
son deprecated the speech of people. Con
sequently. though She conScirntiously min.
istcred 10 Mr.. Butterhin's comfort. it was
in unobtru>lve ways not suspected By him,
and hardly realized by the niece " no Kept
his house. The door between the Two sit
tlhg-runm- no lpnger, a. formerly stood in
vtln9lv aJar. but was hasped upon the wild
ow : side. She never passed through II
now, save Ia that gentlcman's absence,
when She occasionally assisted the mex
perienced Esther in compouudiu. his fay
orite dishes or surreptitiously possessed
herself of his fine meuding. With his wife
demise the old free-and easy lite had end
ed. They were two distinct households.
growing further and further apart as the
weed upon the wi lowers hat waxed rusty
-. 1. a & :.
II could scarcely have been otherwise.
The closed door was but symbol of the
barrier which. in the very nature of things,
must exist between the bereaved Mr.. Bu.
terkin and the similarly bereaved Mrs. Eb-
beson. When Il right hand glove has lost
its mate, add left has met with a like cal
aluity. one naturally des res to lit the re-
manning two together. ii haply they may
make pair, and the widow shrunk sensi-
lively ut the thought of the neighborS thus
mentally matching herself aud Nr. Butter
kin. As tar as IN her lay she tried TO make
ii apparent TO them that the twins were
two odd ones, which could by no possibili-
~ be mated.
Bu: not 80 the gentleman in question
That people should gossip never entered
his head. Ii in Roxanna's lifetime, to
please her, he had done her dear Ruth ire
quent nelghbOrly favors, all the more
would he do them now that Roxanna lay
cold in death. And a. day after day went
bv. and he felt more aud more drawn IL
the cheerful bright eyed widow. the sim
pie, mrn believed this was solely for his de-
parted wife's sake. She had been dead q
year d a day when Mrs, Ebbrsun whisk-
ed out upon the doorstep one warm jay
morning to shake the table-cloth.
oh, my starsr calculated she, lnnking
not into the firmament. but straight earth
ward at her hens darting hither and yon
FOR the breakfast crumbs. In the midst OF
the flock bristled two Brahmas. with sullen
eyes and feathers on end, cluckinG foI
chickens that were not.
Anything wrong, Mrs. Ebbeson?'
Mr.. Butterkin paused on his way from
the barn with the mix.
Only these Brahmas, Mr.. Butterkin
I've broken them up. and broken them up
and they will set Mrs. Ebbeson had been
reared in y rural part of New England
where hens never sit
We'll, whv not let emp
In July? Now, Mr. Butterkin'
Then supposing you tie red yarn about
their feet:'
|. Why, they'd peck my eyes out laughed
| the widow, dexterously foldin. the table
cloth in its farmer crcases.
She was sorry the moment she had SAID
it, for Mr.. Butterkin at once offered to as
sist in the yirdling process. Why should
he not? Yet, as he held the hens. first one
and ihem the other while she bound about
the right leg of each the anti-incubating
anklet. she was inwardly agitated and
could not help being thankful it was early
morning. and they were not likely to be
seen by any passers-by.
h Ea.. l.,
was honestly glad to help Rcxsnna's friend
because she had been her friend, he
would have said ii he had thought about
the matter at all and in the kindness of his
heart he presently asked if the chicken
bran was not getting low. He was going
to the village; should he call at the mill
Or, If you have any errands. | can take
| you over as well as not he added. as an
! afterthought. and was mildly bewildered
at seeing the sudden flush on her lace as
| she hutriedy answered that she had no er.
rands
| Picking up the milk pail, in which the
| froth had perceptibly settled, he walked
away with troubled expression. He hop
ed Ruth hadn't any hard feeling toward
him. What could have made her color up
SO? And then il oeearred to him that
though he had asked her often. he was
sure, snc hau hot Tluueu With iim LOT U
long while-not since-why, not since Rox
anna died and his own face flushed uDdel
the dawn Of new idea. Ruth was sfrail
the neighbors might talk; strange he badn'
thought of 1t before Dear! dear! what
timid little woman she was!
As he logged lonesomely along In tn,
great wagon which used to carry two, an,
seemed dismally empty with one, he coult
not Danish her from his mind. and he begal
to realize how constantly she had been il
it OF late. What had made her manner s.
distant these months past? Was it tear G
village gossip? or did she really disik
him! He wished he knew! and he jerke
the reins. unwittingly wounding the Tee
ings OF his faithful beast, consciously tro
ting htr best.
Turning in at his own gate, q rebellion
clamOr from Mrs EbbesOn's hennerv gree