The Weston Democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1875-current, 1876-05-08

NAS "N' oVAhJ tAO kuOultub SUE upik
said it, for Mr.. Butterkin at oact
offered to assist in tho girdling process
Why should he not ! Yet, as he helt
the hens, first one and then the other
while she bound about the right leg O.
each the anti.iucubating anklet, she wa.
inwardly agitated and could not help be
ing thankful it was early morning, ant
they were not likely to be seen by pass
ers.by.
No such feeling perturbcd Mr.. Butter
kin. he was honestly glad to help Ro1
anna's friend-because she had been hel
friend, he would have said il he Aat
thought about the matter at all; and il
the kindness OF his heart he presently
asked il the chickens brau was not get.
ting low. He was going to the village,
should he call at the milf
"Or, il you have any errands, l can
take you over rs well as not" he added,
rs an afterthought, md was mildly be.
wildered ut seeing tho sudden flush on
her face rs she hurriedly answered that
she had no errands.
Picking up the milk pail, in which the
froth had perceptibly settled, he walked
away with troubled expression. he
hoped Ruth hadn't any hard feeling to.
ward him. What could have made her
color up sol And then it occurred to
him that though he had asked her often,
he was sure, she had not ridden with
him for q long while-not since-why,
not since Roxanna died. and his own
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 timitl
little woman she was! ...f
As he logged lonesomcly 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 Ind made her manner SO distant
these months pastl Was it fear OF vii
lage gossip, or did she really dislike
him I He wished he knew! and he jerk
ed the reins, uuwittiugly wounding the
feelings Of his faithful roam, conscien.
tiously trottipg her best.
Turning in at his own gate, q rebel
ious clamor from Mrs. Ebbesou's hem
merry greeted his ear. Alas for his vain
attempt to overcome maternal instinct |
Hardly Ind he left their sight when tho
clucking Brahmas sought their nest,
where the It'll 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 broyding over the pile OF bricks sho
had heaped in their nest, wiuking their
small rouut eyes ut her in lazy triumph
It WAS too much. Was M immortal
woman to bo outwitted by couple of
finite hens1 Tue little widow renewed
the conflict, but not daring again to lay
hands upon the belligerent bipeds, she
rcSorted to the discreet experiment Of
poking at them through the open win
dow, thus afFording Mr.. Butterkin, as
he rounded the corner, q confused vision
Of agitated calico dancing about q dis
tracted rake handle.
"What setting again, Mrs. Ebbe-
SON"
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 IN inverted barrel.
AYES, they're setting again but it's
Just as well-just exactly as we'll" said
she, rather incoherently, narrowed by
the fear lest she wore displaying her
ankles.
"Now, nov, we must see about this,
Mr.. Butterkin, fishing iu his
pocket for ball Of twine he had bought
that day for stringing the tomatoes, and
meanwhile glancing over his shoulder,
to assure himself that the
orchard was where it should be. Flo
would have liked nothing better than to
lift the widow down, but his instinct
told him she would prefer to descend by
herself, upobservcd, and lie was o man
capable Of self.sacriGce. "Well tie the
hens to the fence" he added, presently,
concious OF thrill OF delight as he pro-
nounced tho "we."
He knew himself better than in the
early morning, and could not disguise
the fact that he ieltapersonal satisfaction
in entering into even the humbless part
nership with Mrs. Ebbeson-a sAtisfac-
ton evidently not shared by tho Brah-
mas, who, rcsenting his continued in
tore his coat mercilessly. 1t
wns n jagged rent, from pocket to hem,
in his Sunday garment too, which IN
Roxauna's time had never gone to the
village on week day but who was
there now to watch over Mr.. Butterkin's
apparel Z Not Mr.. Butterkin, surely, to
whom the distinctions Of dress were but
as sounding brass and n tinkling Gym
bal. -.
"What d wicked, wicked shame !"
cried Mrs. Ebbeson, in distress. " But
I'll darn it Just us well MS l can"
"No, no, thank you it's OF no con-
replied Mr.. Butterkin, with
manly indifference.
"But Esther can't mend broadcloth. :"
"Can'ti You don't say sol"
Imbued with tho masculine supersti-
ton that incapacity with the needle be
tokens idiocy, Mr.. Butterkin. looked
aghast. j,
"No; she's young, you know, and not
used to sewing. Besides, I'm RESPONSE
bio for this rent. Let mo attend to it,
please"
He removed the garment without q
word, his face flushing like moose.ber.
ries in autumn. Not ct the thought
that, since Esther was incapable, be
must be indebted to tho widow for past
iavors with the ncedle-indecd, he
would have unblushiugly declared that
this was the first OCCASION since Roxan.
mas decease that garment OF his had
needed repair-but ho felt i reluctance
,,-nn puk11 fIR a