Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1877-12-07
ROBERTS WIFE.

II am real sorry about Uncle James p
There was real sorrow in Robert Frank
Inns voice and eyes, as he spoke, and the
lady who listened drew her merry, saucy
face into dolorous Fuckers to suit the oc-
casion'
because, you see,'' continued Robert,
'he fancies because you have twenty thou
sand dollars that you are a fine lady, affec-
ted and useless, not the wife for apoor far
mer !"
1--WE must show him his mistake" was
the reply.
''But he will not see you. He positively
forbid your coming over to the farm"
'Does-does he know that we are mar
ried ?"
II have not dared to tell him. Coward
ly, is it not? But he is my only relative,
and love him dearly. 1t is not because
he owns the farm, and can leave little
money, Daisy.'
"Hush, love. I know" Daisy answered
putting soft, white hand over her nus
bands lips.
II have had no other father, or mother
either, for that matter, in all my life,"
continued Robert, land if the farm is
dreary, it is home"
"And you do not like to be banished.
Well, if you will keep your promise and
send Jane over to see me you shall not he.
Now talk of something else. Oh, how can
let you go for two long months 20
For Robert Franklin had undertaken to
go in person to see about some Western
lands in which his uncle had invested, and
which threatened to involve him in loss.
Daisy could not we'll take the long journey
and besides Daisy had other schemes in her
resolved to remove the only shadow from
his life-the resolute opposition of his I'M
Gle to fine lady wife.
Robert Franklin had been gone from the
farm three days when his uncle James
yielded most reluctantly to the pangs of
his old enemy, chronic rheumatism, and
told Jane, his old servant, that he must re-
main in his room. The old woman an
swered promptly
eff you are going to be laid up, Mr..
Franklin, must have some help. I am
getting old, too, sir, and trotting up and
down stairs isn't so easy as it was twenty
years ago!''
s'But who will come, Jane? Girls are
not plenty here, as you know.'
live niece. sir, would come to me,
though she's never lived out.''
''Send for her, then, aEd-oh-rub my
leg, will you %
Late in the afternoon, little hustle be-
low stairs told the invalid of the arrival of
the niece.
She came with one trunk, in a wagon,
from the railway station, and standing in
the wide, ary-looking kitchen, looked a
picture of healthful beauty. Soft brown
curls gathered in rich knot, left little
crinkey ringlets on her forehead and ca
ressing the round white throat large
brown eyes lighted a sweet fair face, and
the neat dress of blue wooden covered a
dainty figure.
',Will you go up stairs, Miss-?'' Jane
hesitated.
"Margaret!" said the new conner; ssdon't
call your niece Miss, whatever you do. My
name is Margaret. Has Mr. Franklin had
his supper.
''Not yet. There's his dinner, you see,
scarcely tasted.'
Margaret looked at her big tray, the
blue plate with food heaped upon it, tie
two-pronged fork and half-soiled napkin
and did not wonder at the neglected food.
''Show me where things are and 1 will
get the SUPPER" she said.
Jane led her from closet to closet. In
one was a set of gilt-edged china, some
fine table linen, table silver and glass;
''Those were bought thirty years ago''-
whispered Jane, when Mr.. Franklin ex-
pected to be married. She died and they
have never been used.''
With her pretty face saddened by the
hidden tragedy of those few words, Mar
garet took small tray from the shelf, and
covering it with snowy napkin, selected
what she wanted from the closet, and went
again to the kitchen.
James Franklin, weary with the efforts
to hold book in his aching hands, was
now sitting in deep armchair musing
when Margaret tapped at the door.
"Come IMP
! But he started as she obeyed. Such a
sweet, bright face was new in the disma
| old farm house, strongly in contrast with
| the bare, lneagre room and desolate all
surrounding her.
81 have brought your supper" she said
drawing little table near the armchair
and covering it with white cloth. Their
going to the door she entered again with a
tray. Upon white china dish was half a
! chicken delicately Drowned, a potato roas-
ted in the ashes, and a slice of buttered
toast, and beside this cup full of fra.
grant tea.
'sYou must not scold if I have anything
wrong" said clear, sweet voice, ''because
Aunt Jane is too busy to look after me.
cleaned the fork and spoon, for silver gets
dreadfully black''-then more tenderly as
she marked the painful effort to move the
| tortured fngers-''Let me cut the chicken
sir.''
Grimly wondering, the old man suffered
himself to be fed, finding appetite as the
we'll prepared food was eaten, and listen
ing well pleased to the CHEEKY voice so I'M
familiar to his lonely life.
''Jane," Margaret said, setting down the
| tray in the kitchen again. II don't won
| der he is sick. No carpet, no curtains
that great hearse of bed, and nothing
pretty near him.