The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1876-05-04

said 1t, Tor Mr.. Butterkin at ono
offered to assist in the girdling process
Why should he not Yet, as he hel,
the hens, first one and then the other
while she bound about the right leg o
each the anti-incubating anklet, she wa
inwardly agitated and could not help be
ing thankful it was early morning, an,
they were not likely to be seen by pass
ersby.
No such feeling perturbed Mr.. Butter
kin. He was honestly glad to help Rox
anna's friend-because she had been he
friend, he would have said if he hat
thought about the matter at all; and il
the kindness of his heart he present.,
asked if the chickens bran was not get
ting low. He was going to the village
should he call at the mills
'. Or, If you have any errands, cal
take you over as well as not" he added
as an afterthought, and was mildly be
wildered at seeing the sudden flush OF
her face as she hurriedly answered tina
she had no errands.
Picking up the milk pail, in which the
froth had perceptibly settled, he walked
away with troubled expression. III
hoped Ruth hadn't any hard feeling to
ward him. What could have made hel
color up so2 And then it occurred tC
him that though he had asked her often
he was sure, she had not ridden will
him for a long while-not since-why
not since Roxanna died and his owl
face flushed under the dawn of new
idea. Ruth was afraid the neighbors
might talk. Strange he hadn't thought
of it before. Dear dear what timid
little woman she was
AS he logged lonesomely along in the
great wagon which used to carry two,
and seemed dismally empty with one,
he could not Danish her from his mind,
and he begun gradually to realize how
constantly she had been in it of late.
What had made her manner so distant
these months past2 Was it fear of vii
lage gossip, or did she really dislike
him 2 He wished he knew! and he jerk
ed the reins, unwittingly wounding the
| feelings of his faithful roam, conscien-
tiously trotting her best.
Turning in at his own gate, rebel
lious clamor from Mrs. Ebbeson's hen
merry greeted his ear. Alas for his vain
attempt to overcome maternal instinct
Hardly had he left their sight when the
clucking Brahmas sought their nest,
where the title widow found them bill
to bill, the scarlet ankle.ties hidden be-
meath the straw. Six times she dis
lodged them; six times they reinstated
| themselves; and now at noon there they
sat brooding over the pile of bricks she
had heaped in their nest, winking their
small round eyes at her in lazy triumph
1t was too much. Was an immortal
To 1,a
finite henss The little widow renewed
the conflict, but not daring again to lay
hands upon the belligerent bipeds, she
resorted to tho discreet experiment of
poking at them through the open win
dow, thus affording Mr.. Butterkin, as
he rounded the corner, confused vision
of agiiated calico dancing about dis
tracted rake handle.
"What setting again, Mrs. Ebbe-
song"
The small lady, till then unconscious
of the gentleman's proximity, hastily
withdrew her head from the window and
looked down in some confusion from her
perch on an inverted barrel.
eyes, they're setting again but it's
just as well-just exactly as well," said
she, rather incoherently, narrowed by
the fear lest she were displaying her
ankles.
"Now, now, we must see about this, 1"
responded Mr.. Butterkin, fishing in his
pocket for ball of twine he had bought
that day for stringing the tomatoes, and
meanwhile glancing over his shoulder,
apparently to assure himself that the
orchard was where it should be. He
would have liked nothing better than to
lift the widow down, but his instinct
told him she would prefer to descend by
herself, unobserved, and he was a man
capable of self-sacrifce. "WeI tie the
hens to the fence" he added, presently,
concious of thrill of delight as he pro-
nounced the "we."
He knew himself better than in the
early morning, and could not disguise
the fact that he felt personal satisfaction
in entering into even the humblest part
nership with Mrs. Ebbeson-a satisfac-
tion evidently not shared by the Brah-
mas, who, resenting his continued in
reference, tore his coat mercilessly. 1t
was jagged rent, from pocket to hem,
in his Sunday garment too, which in
Roxanna's time had never gone to the
village on week day /; but who was
there now to watch over Mr.. Butterkin's
apparel 2 Not Mr.. Butterkin, surely, to
whom the distinctions of dress were but
SIS sounding brass and tinkling Gym
bal.
"What a wicked, wicked shame I"
cried Mrs. Ebbeson, in distress. But
I'll darn it just as we'll as can."
mo, no, thank you /; it's of no con-
sequence" replied MIR. Butterkin, with
manly indifference.
"But Esther can't mend broadcloth. /"
"Can't2 You don't say so!
Imbued with the masculine supersti-
ton that incapacity with the needle be
tokens idiocy, Mr.. Butterkin looked
aghast.
"No; she's young, you know, and not
used to sewing. Besides, I'm response
BILE for this rent. Let me attend to it,
please"
He removed the garment without a
word, his face flushing like oose-ber-
ries in autumn. Not at the thought
that, since Esther was incapable, he
must be indebted to the widow for past
favors with the needle-indeed, he
would have unblushingly declared that
this was the first occasion since Roxan-
mas decease that garment of his had
needed repair-but he felt reluctance
to being dependent upon Ruth for a
menial service, when it was now the
growing desire of his heart that she
should lean upon him.
Seeing him color, Mrs. Ebbeson, out
of sympathy, colored too, and such a
vivid and lasting crimson that her
mother at dinner mildly chided her fol