American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1876-04-29
THE WIDOwN THE L..

1t had been Mrs. Butterkin's doings,
letting the L. Mr.. Butterkin had OBJ
jected to the proceeding, but mildly, as
was becoming in the good-humored
husband of ''whimmy" wife, soprone
to tears that there seemed some founda-
ton for her pet apprehension that her
ssbiood was turning to water" Griev-
ously tormented by nerves, she longed
for vomanly sympathy, and on Mr.. Eb-
beson's decease, nothing would do but
his widow should sell her farm and oc-
cupy the Butterkin l.; for had not Ruth
and she been dear friends from girl
hood? After due elaboration, Mrs.
Ebbessn 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 intem-
perate, worthless husband having left
her barely enough to make both ends
meet. If she would lap them comforta-
bly,, it must be by her own exertions
with the needle. And as she sat cheer
ily stitching by her invalid mothers
couch, Mrs. Butterkin would often run
in with beans to pick over or apples to
pare, while of rainy days, obedient to
his wife's suggestions, Mr.. Butterkin
did many neighborly turn in way of
carpentry. The two families were al
most as one. Indeed, the letting of the
L seemed provident arrangement for
all parties. 1t was relief to Mrs. Eb-
bosom 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 en-
joy cheerful companionship, and what
ever was of advantage to Mrs. Butterkin
necessarily affected Mr.. Butterkin.
Thus years glided on, bringing men,
tai vigor to the nerve-diseased Mrs But
terkin. She had never seemed in better
health than in that fatal spring when
she was Frustrated with pneumonia,
death-stricken from the first.
The Lord wills it, Ruth, and don't
feel to murmur,'' she whispered, with
dying grace; "but husband'll miss me,
know. You'll keep an eye on him,
won't you, dear, when am gone, and
make him comfortable
Mrs. Ebbeson sobbed a promise; but
after Mr.. Butterkin's bereavement she
found the covenant embarrassing, for in
this sublunary world of ours widow
who ''keeps her eye'' on widower chal-
lenges unpleasant comment, and little
Mrs. Ebbeson deprecated the speech of
people. Consequently, though she con-
scientifically ministered to Mr.. Butter
kin's comfort, it was in obtrusive ways
not suspected by him, and hardly real
lied by the niece who kept his house.
The door between the two sitting-rooms
no longer, as formerly, stood invitingly
ajar, but was hasped upon the widows
side. She never passed through it now,
save in the gentleman's absence, when
she occasionally assisted the inexperi-
enced Esther in compromising his ia
vorite dishes, or surreptitiously pos
sessed herself of his fine mending. With
his wife's demise the old free-and- easy
life ended. They were two distinct
households, growing farther and
farther apart, as the weed
upon the widower's hat waxed
rusty beneath accumulated months of
mourning. 1t could scarcely have been
otherwise. The closed door was but a
symbol of the barrier which, in the very
nature of things, must exist between the
bereaved Mr.. Butterkin and the SINH
larly bereaved Mrs. Ebbeson. When a
right-hand glove has lost its mate, and
left has met with like calamity, one
naturally desires to fit the remaining
two together, If haply they may make a
pair, and the widow shrank sensitively
at thought of the neighbors thus men,
tally matching herself and Mr.. Butter
kin. As far as in her lay she tried to
make it apparent 10 them that the twain
were two odd ones, which could by no
possibility be mated.
But not so the gentleman in question.
That people should gossip never entered
his head. If in Roxanna's lifetime, to
please her, he had done her dear Ruth
frequent neighborly favors, all the more