Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-05-31

and thither for the breakfast crumbs.
In the midst of the flock bristled two
Brahmas, with sullen eyes and feathers
on end, clucking for chickens that were
not.
" Is anything wrong, Mrs. Ebbeson? ?"
Mr.. Butterkin paused on his way
from the barn with the milk.
"Only these Brahmas, Mr.. Butterkin.
up, but they will set"
Mrs. Ebbeson had been reared in
rural part of New England where hens
never "sit."
"Well, why not let 'em?"
In July? Now, Mr.. Butterkin."
"Then supposiug you tied red yarn
about their feet?"
"Why, they'd peck my eyes out"
laughed the widow, dextrously folding
the table cloth.
She was sorry the moment she had
said it, for Mr.. Butterdin at once offer
ed 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 anti-incubating anklet, she
was inwardly agitated and could not
help being thankful it was early morn.
ing, and they were not likely to be seen
by passers by.
No such feeling perturbed Mr.. But
terkin. He was honestly glad to help
Roxanna's friend-because she had
been her friend, he would have said if
he had thought about the matter al ali;
and in the kindness of his heart he
presently asked if the chickens bran
was not getting low. He was going to
the village; should he call at the mill?
Cor, if you have any errands, I can
take you over as we'll as not" he added,
as an afterthought, 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 freth had perceptibly settled, he
walked away with troubled express
sion. He hoped Ruth hadn't any hard
feelings toward him. What could have
made her color up so? And then it oc-
CURED to him that though he had asked
her often, he was sure, she had not rid
den with him for a long while-not
since-why, not since Roxanna died!
and his own face flushed under the
dawn of a 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 past? Was it fear of vii
lage gossip, or did she really dislike
him? He wished he knew! and he
jerked the reins, unwittingly wounding
the feelings of his faithful roam, con-
sclentlOusly 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
Hardly had he left their sight when the
clucking Brahmas sought their nest,
| where the little 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! It was too much.
Was an immortal woman to be out
witted by couple of finite hens? The
little widow renewed the conflict, but
not daring again to lay hands on the
belligerent bipeds, she resorted to the
discreet experiment of poking at them
through the open window, thus afford
ing Mr.. Butterkin, as he rounded the
corner, a confused vision of agitated
calico dancing about distracted rake
handle
What setting again, Mrs. Eb-
beson?"
The small lady till then unconscious
OF the gentleman's proximity, hastily
drew her head from the window and
looked down in some confusion from
her perch On an inverted barrel.
Yes, they're setting again; but it's
just as well-just exactly as WE'LL" said
she incoherently, narrowed by the fear
lest she were displaying her ankles.
Now, now, we must see about this, "
responded Mr.. Butterkin, fishing in his
pocket for ball of Irvine he had bought
that day for stringing the tomatoes, and
meanwhile glanclng 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 81 man
capable Of self-sacrifice. "WeIl tie the
hens to the fence" he added, presently,
conscious of thrill of delight as he
| pronounced the "we."
He knew himself better than in the
early morning, ana could not disguise
the fact that he felt personal satisfac-
ton in entering into even the humblest
partnership with Mrs. Ebbeson-a sat-
isfaction evidently not shared by the
Brahmas, who, resenting his continued
interference, tore his coat mercilessly.