Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1876-05-06

he determined to tap no hand but hers
in the ring. If Mrs. Crane had only
handed him the rope without word
but she couldn't help it, poor woman
it was the fault of destiny, as said be-
fore. Something compelled her to stand
right at the foot of the stairs and whis-
per
"Keep right on. Sally dear-tnrn and
turn, like good little lass"
And she might better have spoken
aloud. Her whisper was of that stentor-
ian description that it cut the air it
fell swoop upon the ear of the young
squire, and presently he heard a sweet
low voice in reply:
Yes, ma am, I'll attend to it nicely"
He went back with the rope, in a
daze. What was to be turned and
turned, and who was the turner9 What
Sally was it that owned that sweet low
voice and what sweet low voice owned
that dear name of Sally Will Randall
had been famous at school and college
for solving problems; he never would,
in fact, leave one unsolved and present
ly he slipped away from the rope, out of
the room, and made his way direct to
the cellar door. He opened it softly,
closed it carefully behind him, and went
slowly down the steps. The bull'seye
of the furnace glared at him as if the
genius of fire within was bent upon some
spree of his own one of these days; he
heard squeak, squeak, squeak, little
off in the dim distance, and followed
the mysterious noise, confident it had
something to do with that problem he
was bent upon solving. He walked on
tiptoe, passing many coal bin heaped
to the top with coal; his locks brushed
many ham and tongue and juicy bit of
bacon; he saw many hanging shelf
filed with Christmas cheer; it was fit to
soften the heart of this young scion of
noble but impoverished house. The
squeaking noise became more and more
distinct. He turned the corner of a
preserve closet, and suddenly he stood
still, because he couldn't go on; his feet
stopped; his pulse almost ceased to beat;
he saw something that sent the blood
flying to his heart-that perfdiously
false yet faithful heart He saw the slim
little figure of woman perched upon an
old broken hen-coop, her black dress
tucked up out of the water that escaped
from half dozen freezers around her;
her little right hand turning one freezer,
her little left hand turning another; her
soft silky yellow hair all fuffed about
her pretty head-that yellow hair that
would match exactly with the exquisite
color CT the one holding the place of
honor among all his locks of hair; her
sweet lips parted with anxiety for the
fate of the cream, as they had parted
long ago with far deeper and warmer
anxiety-those sweet, sweet lips Gould
it be9 Oh, was it his own little Sally
his one, only Sally, the pure idol of his
boyish love9 Oh, what divine, rapturous
problem was this given him to solve2
That pumping apparatus about his
heart began to work again with a will.
He crept around the preserve chest, be-
tween the freezers, and putting one hand
upon Sally's lips, with the other drew
her close upon his heart.
"Hush, darling" he whispered; " it
is I-Will-your own faithful Will.
Oh, Sally Sally %
Her little falling head he caught in
time, and kissed her fainting lips to life
He said more in minute to Sally than
he had whispered all the night above
He decided her fate and his own in the
twinkling of an eye, and unblushingly
believed he was but fulfilling all the
VOWS of long ago under the walnut tree.
AS for Sally-shy, trembling Sally-she
was in rapture of bewilderment, of joy
and bliss, that is seldom reached by NOR
tails, until suddenly the cellar door
opened; then, indeed, the crimson in
Sally's cheeks paled, the stentorian
whisper of Mrs. Crane was heard upon
the steps:
cit must be jest right now. It's bin
turnin', you know, long enough now;
it kin set by, and Sally might Jest as
well as not hev little fun. I lay
anything it's jest the primest stuff you
ever see."
"The cream is spoiled" whispered
Sally, her big, loving, fearful, happy eyes
upon Wills.
"Not bit of it," said her compan-
ion. And although that cream was GER
tainly lumpy and little soft, Will de-
clared it the best he ever tasted, or would
taste for the remainder of his life; and
as the cream was made for him, what
did it matter2
Angelica, having plenty of strings to
her bow, didn't mourn over it griev-
ously; but poor Mrs. Crane from that
time forward bought her cream at Tow
| Zer's