Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-04-28
ing it to the young squire, who stood

ms ~ w o'iN J ""'S Si"AAO, ""0 ''oON
waiting 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 deter
mined to tap no hand but hers in the
ring. If Mrs. Crane had only hand
ed the rope without word; but she
couldn't help it, poor woman; it was
the fault of Destiny, as 1 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 a good little lass"
And she might better have spoken
aloud. Her whisper was of that
stentorian 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:
eyes, ma'am. Pll attend to it
nicely"
He went back with the rope, in a
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 ia
nous at school and college for solv-
ing problems; he never would, in
fact, leave one unsolved; and pres
entity he slipped away from the rope,
out Of the room, and made his way
directlyto the cellar door. He open
ed it softly, closed it carefully behind
him, and went slowly down the steps.
The bulls eye Of the furnace glared
at him as if the genius of fire within
was bent on some spree of his own
one of these days; he heard a squeak,
squeak, squeak, little distance of,
and followed the mysterious noise,
confident 1t had something to do
with that problem he was bent upon
solving. lie walked on tip-toe, pass
ing many a coal-bin heaped to the
top with coal; his locks brushed
many ham and tongue and juicy
bit of bacon; he saw many long
shelf filled with Christmas cheer; it
was fit to soften the heart Of this
young scion Of a noble but impover-
ishea house. The squeaking became
more and more distinct. He turned
the corner of liquor closet, and
suddenly he stood still, because he
could not go on; his feet stopped;
his pulse almost ceased to beat; he
saw something that sent the blood
flying to his heart,-that perfidiously
false yet faithful heart. He saw the
slim little figure of a woman perched
upon an old broken hen-coop, her
black dress tucked up out of the wa
ter 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 tluffed about her
pretty head-that yellow hair that
would match exactly with the exquis-
ite color of the one holding the place
of honor among all his locks of hair;
her sweet lips parted with anxiety tor
the fate of the cream, as they had
parted long ago with a far deeper
and warmer anxiety those sweet,
sweet lips! Could it be? Oh, was
it his own little Sally-his one, only
Sally, the pure idol of his boyish
love? Oh, what divine, raptuous
problem was this given him to solve?
That pumping apparatus about his
heart began to work again with a
will. He crept around the liquor
closet, between the freezers, and put.
ting one hand on Sally's lips, with
the other drew her close upon his
heart.
"Hush, darling" he whispered; cit
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 a minute to
Sally than he had whispered all the
night above. He decided her fate
and his in the twinklng of an eye,
and unblushing believed he was but
fulfilling all the vows of long ago,
under the walnut tree. AS for Sally
sly, blushing, trembling Sally-sho
was in a rapture of bewilderment, of
Joy and bliss, that is seldom reached
by mortal, until suddenly the cellar
door opened; then, indeed, the crlm-
som in Sally's cheeks paled, the stem
torian whisper of Mrs. Crane was
heard upon the steps:
"It must be jest right now. It's
BIN turnin', you know, long enough
now; it kin set by, and Sally might
jest as well have a little fun. | lay
anything it's the primest stuff you
ever see"
"Thc cream is spoiled" whispered
Sally, her big, loving, fearful, happy
eyes fixed upon Wil's.
"Not bit of it," said her cham
pion. And although that cream was
certainly lumpy and little soft, Will
declared it the best he ever tasted, or
would taste for the remainder of his
life; and as the cream was made for
him, why, what did it matter?
Angelica, having plenty of strings
to her bow, didn't mourn over 1t
grievously; but poor Mrs. Crane,
from that time forward, bought her
cream at Towers.
Stick 20 Business.
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