, 1876-09-08

the noise above. and Il was "a sort Of
nice, as Mrs. Crane hal said: and a.
she turned and tnrned one freezer after
another, Sally became Interested enough
in her work 10 forget morc important
trials close at hand.
1t made the soul Of the farmers wife
glad within her. when she went down to
taste the cream. 10 find It beginning to
he all that her fancy painted.
Its prime she said, smacking her
lips and holding the spoon 10 Sally's
pretty mouth. jest taste il. anil tell
me if that amt fur ahead Of Towscr's
stuff in town. II stands to rca' on. Sal
ly; there's real cream in that ar-none
o yer nasty slimmin'sl Now keep
right on, dear; be just rs keerful as you
kin. cause nOw's the resky time when
the hull thing kin be spilled by n mite
O. keerlessness. just turn and turn,
dear, first one, then t'other, this away,
and that Away. The idee Of that pesky
da'ter o. mine tellin' me only mint
ago she knowed it be lumpy and soft!
And, Sally. she's the most onfeelin' -
Its only her fun, said Sally.
Fun echoed the vexed matron.
"Wall, it's a mean kind o fun, and it'd
sarve her right if she came out the lit
tie end o. the horn yet. But we'll take
keer O. the cream, won't we Sally?"
"That we will, ma'am," said Sally,
warmly.
Jest turn and turn, you know" said
the poor woman, and went up the cellar
steps, not knowing that destiny had
some work of her own to do that night,
and had ruthlessly chosen the farmers
wife for the agent of her own discom-
future. At the top of the steps she met
the young Squire. He said that, like
the young woman in the ballad, he was
weary of dancing, and proposed to have
the old game of Copenhagen-and could
"Why, yes, said Mrs. Crane, "there's
one right down here in the cellar. I'll
get it, Will; that's right; hev all the fun
you kin; you can't be young but once;"
and down she went into the cellar again.
Now if she had only contented her.
self with getting the rope and handing
it to the young Squire, who stood wait
ing at the top of the steps, all would
have been well. He had scarcely left
Angelica's side the whole evening; he
had whispered lots of pretty things in
her ears; 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 before. Something compelled her
to stand right at the foot of the stairs
and whisper:
keep right on, Sally dear; turn and
turn, like good little Lass"
And she might better have spoken
aloud. Her whisper was of that stem
torian description that it cut the air; it
fell swoop upon the ear of the young
Squire, and presently he heard sweet,
low voice in reply:
"Yes, ma'am, I'll attend to it nicely"
He went back with the rope in daze.
What was to be turned and turned, and
who was the turner? 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 presently 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 slow
ly down the steps. The bull's-eye OF
the furnace glared at him as if the ge-
MUS 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 that it
had something to do with that problem
he was bent upon solving. He walked
on tiptoe, passing many q coal bin heap
ed to the top with coal his locks brush
ed many ham and tongue and juicy
bit of bacon; he saw many hanging
shelf flled with Christmas cheer; it was
fit to soften the heart of this young
scion of a noble but impoverished
house. The squeaking noise became
more and more distinct. He turned the
corner of preserve closet, and sudden
ly 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 a wo-
man perched upon an old broken hen
coop, her black dress tucked up out of
the water that escaped from half doz-
en- 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 of 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
a far deeper and warmer anxiety-those
sweet, sweet ipsl Could it be? Oh,
was it his own little Sally; his one, only
q IL r l.. Il l.,