The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1876-05-04
THE WIDOW IN THE |.

iVE WIDuW IN lie l..
1t had been Mrs. Butterkin's doings,
letting the l.. Mr.. Butterkin had OBJ.
jected to the proceeding, but mildly, as
was becoming in the good humored
husband of " whimmy" wife, SO prone
to tears that there seemed some founda.
tion for her pet apprehension that hel
blood was turning to water" Griev.
ously tormented by nerves, she longed
for womanly sympathy, and on Mr..
Ebbeson's decease, nothing would dc
but his widow should sell her farm and
occupy tho Butterkin l.; for had not
Ruth and she been dear friends from
girlhood After due deliberation, Mrs.
E6beson came, having first secured q
life lease of the building.
A busy little woman was Ruth Ebbe-
son, as she had need to be, her iutem-
perate, worthless husband having left
her barely enough to make both ends
meet. II she would lap them comfort
ably, it must be by her own exertions
with the needle. And as she sat cheerily
stitching by her invalid mothers couch,
Mrs. Butterkin would often run in with
beans to pick over or apples to pare,
while on rainy days, obedient to his
wife's suggestions, Mr.. Butterkin did
many a neighborly turn in way of car
pentry. The two families were almost
as one. Indeed, the letting of the L
seemed provident arrangement for all
parties. 1t was q relief to Mrs. Ebbeson
to be rid of her farm; it was we'll that
her mother should be within easy access
OF physician. Especially was it Of ad-
vantage to Mrs. Butterkin to enjoy
cheerful companionship, and whatever
was of advantage to Mrs. Butterkin nee
essarily affected Mr.. Butterkin.
Thus years glided on, bringing mental
vigor to the nerve-diseased Mrs. Butter
kin. She had never seemed in better
health than in that fatal spring when she
was prostrated by pneumonia, death
stricken from the first.
"The Lord wills it, Ruth, and 1
don't feel to murmur," she whispered,
with dying grace; "but husband II miss
me, I know. You'll keep an eye ON him,
won't you, dear, when I am gone, and
make him comfortable 4"
Mrs. Ebbeson sobbed promise; but
after Mr.. Butterkin's bereavement she
found the covenant embarrassing, for in
this sublunary world of ours a widow
who "keeps her eye" on a widower
challenges unpleasant comment, and lit
tie Mrs. Ebbeson deprecated the speech
of people. Consequently, though she
conscientiously ministered to Mr.. But
terkin'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 -roSms
no longer, as formerly, stood invitingly
ajar, but was hasped upon the widows
side. She never passed through it now,
save in the gentleman's absence, when
she occasionally assisted the inexperi-
enced Esther in compounding his ia
vorite dishes, or surreptitiously pos
sessed, herself of his fine mending.
With his wife's demise the old free-and-
easy life had ended. They were two
distinct households, growing further and
further apart, as the weed upon the
widower's hat waxed rusty beneath ac-
cumulated months of mourning. 1t
could scarcely have been otherwise.
The closed door was but a symbol of the
barrier which, in the very nature of
\ things, must exist between the bereaved
PMr. Butterkin and the similarly bereaved
Mrs. Ebbeson. When right-hand
glove has lost it's mate, and a left has
met with like calamity, one naturally
desires to fit the remaining two together,
if haply they may make pair, and the
widow shrunk sensitively at the thought
OF the neighbors thus mentally match
ing herself and Mr.. Butterkin. AS far
as in her lay she tried to make it ap-
parent 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 Roxanna's lifetime, to
please her, he had done her dear Ruth
frequent neighborly favors, all the more
would he do them now that Rcxanna lay
cold in death. And as day after day
went by, and he felt more and more
closely drawn to the cheerful, bright
eyed widow, the simple man believed
this was solely for his departed wife's
sake. She had been dead year and a
day, when Mrs. Ebbeson whisked out
upon the doorstep one warm July morn
ing to shake the tablecloth.
"Oh, my stars!" calculated she, look
ing not into the armament, but straight
earthward at her hens darting hither and
yon for the breakfast crumbs. In the
midst of the flock bristled two Brahmas,
with sullen eyes and feathers on end,
cluckling for chickens that were not.
Anything wrong, Mrs. Ebbeson 2"
Mr. Butterkin paused on his way from
the barn with the milk.
"Only these Brahmas, Mr.. Butterkin.
I've broken them up, and broken them
up, but they will SET" (Mrs. Ebbeson
had been reared in rural part of New
England where hens never "sit.'0
"Well, why not let 'em 2''
I" In July Now, Mr.. Butterkin I"
"Then supposing you tied red yarn
about their feet Z"