Smyrna times., 1877-01-31

when he found himself alone with those
children. He wondered that his wife had
had any temper left at all. He grew more
bent, more vexed and worried, every day,
and one would hardly have recognized.
people said, the dark and splendid Stephen
Thornton of his youth in this middle-aged,
gray-haired man; and yet, to our eyes, he
was still quite II remarkable looking person
-perhaps more SO from our associating
him with the poetry in Aunt Helen's life,
and making him an Object OF wonder as to
whether or not now they would ever come
together again,
! But there was little chances of that. We
had met Mr.. Thornton elsewhere, but he
| had never come across our threshold since
! the day he went out with his brides ring.
! And Aunt Helen's peculiarly was that she
never forgot. Could she, then, forget the
words he spoke to her in his anger? Could
she ever forget his marrying another woman
! in less than a week? it had been in that
week and few following that her hair had
! turned white. She had suffered ineXpres
Sibly; she had never slept at night; but
| she kept up a gay face. Perhaps she
would have suffered longer if it had not
been for our growing up about her. Her
life was thus filled, every moment of it !;
she had but very little time to be lonely, to
brood, or mourn. She forgot herself i'll us.
1t gave her quiet happiness, and kept her
conIely. And then she was too proud ;
whenever the thought thrust up its head,
she Shut the lid down, as you may say, and
| sat on it.
But one day-aiter the time when the
doctor had said Harry was a hopeless Grip
pie and must lie on his back the rest of his
hfe-Aunt Helen brought home little
basket from the county fair, and took from
the wool within it two of the cunnIngest
mites of chickens you ever laid your eyes
on, Il hate them, said she ; 'thPy make
me crawl; but they will amu>e the dcal
child. They re African hantamS." And sc
they did anIuSe him and delight him as he
| lay on his lounge in the hay-windOw and
watched them growing up, full of business
And that was the way, toy the way, that we
came to have chickens round the front
piazzas. One night, year atterward, when
the bantams were quite grown people
somebody dropped over the fence a pair o.
big black COchins, that stalked about as II
the earth was too good to tread on, or as il
they were afraid Of crushing a bantam Will
the next step. Of course we knew where
the COchins came irom-tor nobody else il
town had any-Lut no one said word
Only it was sport on the next day to pee
~
piece of bread in her hand, in doub
whether to have anything to do with thos,
fowls or not, twice extending her hand witt
the crumbs and snatching it back again
and at last making one bold effort ant
throwing the whole thing ut them, an'
hurrying into the house. But from tina
moment the ever hungry Cochins seemed
TO regard her as their patron saint. Su
never appeared but they came stalking
gingerly along to meet her, and at last evel
; made so bold as to fly up and perch Oi
the back of her chair on the piazza. o
course he was shooed off with vigor-wlth
, little more vigOr perhaps because Nj
Thornton had at that moment beel
passing, and had seen this woman VIII
: would never keep hens presenting tina
t tableau.
1t was two or three days after that tina
: Aunt Helen, coming home at twilight tror
/ one of her raml,les on the river bank, wa
observe to be very nervous and flu heC
e and to look much as if she had bee
:. crying.
t ITS all right" said our Ned, coming i
II I've been setting my eel traps and whi
G do you think--she met old Thornton"
II "Nedr
d "She did indeed. And what'll you sa
t to that mans cheek? He up and spoke I
Il her!'
II "Oh, now, Ned Before your
d "Fact. Before me? No, indeed; la
II low," said Ned, with a chuckle. Blu
r. bless you, they wouldn't have seen me if
II had stood high"
IA "For shame, Ned Oh, how could yo
L and Aunt Helenl'
IF "Guess you'd have been no better i'm II
k place." said the unscruplous boy. "Br
u there, that's all. If | couldn't listen,
ir course you can't"
u "Oh, now, Ned, pleaser we all chOrusC
d, together.
OF "well, then. He stood straight befo
ut her. Helen said he, 'have you forgottt
el me? and she began to turn white. Il ha
ep had time enough, SIR said She.
- "Oh, you ought not to have staid, Ned
n You may find out the rest by yo
to learning" said the offended narrator. :
I'd should like TO know how | was going
he leave. Only I'll say this, that if Au
rn Helen would marry old Thornton to-day
to She wouldn't touch him with a walkir
1k stick p
he To our amazement, on the very ne
he afternoon who should appear at our ga
he with his ph@ton and pair but Mr.. Thor
Iis ton; and who, bonneted and gloved al
ke veiled, should issue from the door, to
nd placed in that ph@ton and drive off wi
he him, but Aunt Helen. Ned chuckled, /
lt. the rest Of us could do nothing hut wond
IT.. "IIns he gone to he married?" we gaspt
w, And Lii and Harry began to cry.
We "Wrll, I'll tell you,'' said Ned, in mer
he "He said there'd never been a day since
ed left her that he hadn't longed for what
m threw away"
he "Oh, how wicked II
re, "She told him so. very quietly Il
res severeiy-I tell you Aunt Helen can
nd he spvpre-and to be silent on that poi
tie 'Forpver?" said he. 'And ever said S
nd 1T is impossible said he. And then
ct went over one by one, dozen different di
lge and scenes when they were young; ant
sh, ever fellow felt mean, was the one"
to IL should thInk you would" we cri
ars. with one accord.
ng, Now look here" returned Ned. If !
want to hear the rest you keep that sor
in a remark to yourself. II was too late for
1f to show myself, anyway. And I'll
mt. blamed if I'll say another word il you dc
she every one acknowledge you'd have d.
lrt just as did"
she "Oh, Ned, do tell the whole That
v good boyr'
me swell, she just began to cry-l never
her Aunt Helen cry before. And then it seer
A