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

would have unblushingly declared that
this was the first occasion since Roxan-
mas decease that garment of his had
needed repair-but he felt a reluctance
to being dependent upon Ruth for a
mental service, when it was now the
growing desire of his heart that sAy
should lean upon him.
Seeing him color, Mrs. Ebbeson, out
Of sympathy, colored too, and such
vivid and lasting crimson that her
mother at dinner mildly chided her for
going out without her bonnet.
Busy over his coat that afternoon,
Ruth naturally thought of Mr.. Butter
kin, while he, wedding the late turnips,
recalled her bushes, and clumsily tried
to analyze them. On the whole, he
couldn't believe she went so far as to
dislike him. And so night came, the
mended coat hung in its place, and
under the fence the undiscouraged
Brahmas brooded above imaginary eggs.
Next morning they brooded there still,
and there, had they been his own, might
they have continued to brood, forgotten
by Mr.. Butterkin, who, as his late wife
often said complainingly, never charged
his mind with hens; but these especial
Brahmas possessed peculiar interest as
giving him audience with the charming
widow. Accordingly, in the days that
followed, he lowered about the 1uckless
bipeds like q bird of prey. He bought
the latest treatises on hens, and patiently
tried in succession all the experiments
therein suggested for subduing the wills
of obdurate sitters, Mrs. Ebbeson assist
ing, as in common gratitude she
must. This without producing the
least effect upon the Brahmas. It was
the widow that grew FESTIVE, conscious
Of the absurdity os Mr.. Butterkin's sud-
den and ostentatious regard for fowls.
She knew the very moment when his
heart turned toward her, but whether
hers inclined similarly toward him
wasn't for her to say till he asked; yet,
coy little woman, she gave him no
chance to put the question.
And-such is human perversity-the
more she seemed not to care for him,
so much the more was Mr.. Butterkin
resolved that she should care for him.
Before July was ended he had fully
made up his mind to propose, inwardly
assured that his late wife would sane
ton the proceeding, not if she were re-
turned to flesh, Of course-but as a
shade, she would not wish to stand be-
tween him and her beloved Ruth. Of
Mr.. Ebbeson's shade he scarcely thought
doubling, pehaps, whether a man on
earth destitute of moral substance,
could at death attain the dignity of a
heavenly shadow But there is vast
difference between purposing to pro-
pose and proposing. Mr.. Butterkin
learned this to his chagrin after repeat
ed abortive attempts at giving his fire.
quent interviews with Mrs. Ebbeson a
sentim entail turn. At each advance of
his she sped away as shyly as girl,
and in the secure retreat of her moth
er's couch was as unapproachable as if
seated aloft in the chair of Cassiopea.
In regard to a written declaration of
love. Mr.. Butterkin would sooner have
attempted an essay on protoplasm.
August found him still waiting for an
opportunity. He-usually so prompt
and unhesitating-the first selcctman
of the town! The better he loved the
widow, the more he despised himself,
ill one soft twilight, when the zeghyrs
were whispering tender thoughts to the
leaves, he rose with desperate resolve,
and strobe boldly round to the open
door of the L. Mrs. Ebbeson sat lust
within the sitting-rOom but he was too
crafty to enter.
eff you'll kindly step this way mo-
ment," he said, GIVE another expert
ment we might try on those hens"
But having lured her to him, his next
words were wide of the mark:
81 came to ask-that is, wanted to
KNOWN fact, wanted to have seri-
Gus talk with you"
She believed in free WILL he in fore
ordinations; but this "serious talk"
would not SAVIOR of theology, she knew.
She neryously essayed to confne it to
poultry.
Really, Mr.. Butterkin, you take
too much trouble about those hens.
They
Nothing I do for you, Ruth, is a
trouble"
"They're fairly rheumatic from
standing In that barrel of water, and,
for all that, they're not cured of setting"
CAS- was saying, Ruth
Lon say any more ABOUT EN-, Mr..
Butterkin, beg"
Pm not speaking about hens,
Ruth" Here Mr.. Butterkin wiped his
brow with his handkerchief widow
er's grimy kerchief. II came to talk
about you. Don't go. Your mother
didn't call. Why won't you marry me,
Ruth?"
She gave him dozen reasons on the
spot; but the fallacy of feminine logic
being proverbial. Mr. Butterkin was
not the man to heed them. At least
this know; before the snow came the
widow Ebbeson hadbecome Mrs. Butter
kin, and frosty evenings she and her
husband might have been seen care
fully sheltering two late broods of
chickens, for in the end the Brahmas
had their way.
A Frightful Spectacle.
%o>o l.