Weekly Trinity journal., 1876-05-20
TaEE WIDOW IN TRAE l..


jected to the proceeding, but mildly, as
was becoming in the good humored hus-
band of a "whimmy" wife, SO prone to
tears that there seemed some foundation
for her pet appreciation that her "blood
was turning to water" Grievouslv tor
mented by nerves, she longed for womanly
sympathy, and on Mr.. Ebbeson's decease
nothing would do but his widow should
sell his farm and occupy the Butterllin
l.; for had not Ruth and She been dear
friends from girl-hood After due de-
liberation, Mrs. Ebbeson came. having
FIRST secured a life lease OF tho building.
A busy little woman was Ruth Ebbo-
son, rs she had need be, her Incorporate,
worthless husband having left her barely
enough 80 make both ends meet. If she
would lap them comfortably, it must be
by her own exertons with the needle.
And As she sat cheerily stitching 10y her
invalid mothers couch, Mrs. Buttcrkin
would often run in with beans to pick
over or apples to pare, while ON rainy
days, obedient to his wi(o's suggestions,
Mr.. Butteri>m did many neighborly
turn in the way Of carpentry. The two
families were almost as one. Indeed,
the letting of the L seemed provident
arrangement for all parties. 1t was re-
lief to Mrs Ebbcson to be rid Of the farm;
it was we'll that her mother should be
within easy access OF a physician. Es-
pccially was it Of advantage to Mrs. But
terkin to enjoy cheerful compauionship,
and whatever was OF advantage to Mrs.
Butterkin necessarily affected Mr.. But
terkiu.
Thus years glidcd on, bringing mental
vgor to the nerve diseased Mrs. Butter
kin. She had never seemed in better
health than in that fatal Spring when she
was prostratod by pneumonia, death
stricken from the first.
"The Lord wills it, Ruth, and don't
feel to murmur," she whispered, with
dying grace "but husband II miss me,
know. You'n keep an eye on him,
won't you, dear, when | am gone and
keep him comfortable ~
Mrs. Ebbeson sobbed promise; but
after Mr.. Buttorkin's bereavement she
found the covenant embarrassing, for in
this sublunary world Of ours widow
who "kecps her eye" on wdower
challenges unpleasant comment, and little
Mrs. Ebbeson deprecated the speech OF
people. Consequently, though she con
scientiously ministered to Mr. Butterkin's
comfort, it was in unobtrusive ways not
suspected by him, and hardly realized by
the niece who kept his house. The door
between the two sitting rooms no longer,
rs formerly, stood inyitingly njar, but
was hasped upon the widows side. She
never passed through it now, save in the
gentleman's absence, when she occasion
ally assisted the inexperienced Esthor in
compounding his Gayorito dishes, or sur
rcptitiousy possessed herself of his fine
mending. with his wte's demise the
old free and easy life had onded. They
farther and farther apart, as the weed
upon the widower's hat waXad rusty be-
meath accumulated months Of mourning.
1t could scarcely hayo been otherwise,
The closed door was but symbol Of the
barrier, which, in the very nature OF
things, must exist between the bereaved
Mr.. Butterkin and the similarly bereaved
Mrs. Ebbeson. When right hand glove
has lost its mate, and a left has met with
like calamity, ono naturally desires to
fit the remaining two together, il haply
/ they may mako a pair, and tho widow
shrank sensitively at thought of the neigh
bors thus mentally matching herself anC
| Mr.. Butterkin. As far as in her lay sh,
tried to make it apparent to 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 Roxana's lifetime to
please her, he had done her dear Ruth
frequent neighborly fayors, all the more
would he do them now that RoXaua lay
cold in death. And as day after day
went by, and he felt more closely drawn
to the cheerful, bright-eyod widow, the
simple man believed this was solely for
his departed wife's sake. She had been
dead but year ard day, when Mrs.
Ebbeson whisked out one warm July
morning to shake the table cloth.
"Oh, my stars 20 calculated she, look
ing not into the armament, but straight
earthward at her hens darting hlLher and
yon for the breakfast crumbs. In the
midst Of the flock bristlod two Brahmas,
with sulen eyes and feathers on end,
clacking for chickens that were not.
"Any thing wrong, Mrs. Ebbeson ?"
Mr.. Butterkin paused on his way nom
the barn with the milk.
"Only these BIahmas, Mr.. Butterkin.
I've broken 'em up, and broken 'em up,
but they wtA set." (Mrs. Ebbeson had
been reared in rural part OF New Eng
land whore hens never "sit.D
"Well, why not let 'em p
"In July! Now Mr.. Butterkin -
"Tnsn supposing you tie rod yarn
about their feet ?''
why, they'd peck my eyes out,
laughed the widow, dextrously folding
| the table cloth in its former creases.
She was sorry the moment she said it
for Mr.. Butterkn at once offered to assls
in the girding process. Why should h'
not? Yet as he held the hens, first on'
and then the other, while she bound abou
the right leg Of each the anti-incubatint
anklet, she was inwardly agitated, an'
o,ld not heIn haino thankful il WAS earl