The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-03-10

| uCl, Iut SCdTCu. ii
and out among the barrels and boxes sh
went in the utter blackness, calling GU
merrily now and then that she wOulC
find him and punish him for giving he
so much trouble. Once she almos
touched the shrinking figure; but it hell
its breath, and she passed on.
1t was a weird game of hide-and-
the dark figure with the ugly face cover
ing among the wheels, listening with
strange kind of savage fear to the ligh
footsteps that sounded now here, nov
there; he heard them climb the laddel
and patter about in the loft overhead
then come down again, and the voice
not so merry now-repeat her assurance
of finding the truant, and a sudden de
sire entered his brain to spring upon hel
and choke her. 1t would not be the first
| time he had done such a deed, but hel
| perfect audacity seemed to paralyze him
and again she passed him all uncon
! scious. He saw her pause in the door
way, dimly outlined against the sky, and
then disappear down the path.
" Eff she amt. the pluckiest unr' he
growled, as he crept from behind the
! carriage. Hanged eff she amt ghost
or suthin." And with this peculiar com,
ment on Mrs. Cuthbert's bravery he
shook himself and made his way out of
the barn with a sidelong gait, as if he
was used to sinking in and out of
places.
Mrs. Cuthbert meanwhile sped on to
the house, her steps FASTENED by the
idea that her husband might be there.
perhaps he had slipped out of the barn
while she was up in the loft, or perhaps
he had not gone into the barn at all
Alas for her hopes! The sitting-room
was empty, and just as she had left it.
Not despairing yet, she snatched up
the lamp, and determined to search the
house. From room to room she went
calling upon George, and looking into
every closet and behind and under every
article of furniture, but not glimpse of
her husband gladdened her eyes, and at
last she sat down by the baby's cradle
and burst into tears.
"Oh, how can he be so cruelw she
sobbed, land for such little thing
He might have known l was only IN fun;
but maybe he's only in fun himself, and
will come in SOON"
Cheered by this reflection, she trotted
briskly down stairs, stirred the fire into
a blaze, and stood watching it, too
fidgety to settle to her sewing again.
The wood famed noisily, then glowed a
silent red, then crumbled and fell, an
untidy, dreary mass of whitened ashes
and dying embers, and still her husband
did not come.
The clock struck nine, and Mrs. Cuth-
bert looked at it eproachfully, as if it
was the time pieces fault that it was so
late. Where aoas her husband? Per-
haps he was wandering about in the
dark, unable to find the house. Why
hadn't she thought of that before? She
would put lamp in every room.
And in few minutes lights were
twinkling from all the windows, giving
the little cottage quite gay and festive
air. Who could have guessed that
lonely woman and sleeping child were
its sole occupants? Not the dark figure
with the ugly face, doubled up under
the lilac bushes that bordered the gravel
path.
AS the hours wore on another dark
figure Joined the one of the ugly face,
and was greeted with an oath upon his
laziness, and the information that some
thing was up" that the first chance was
"spiled," and they would have to clay
to while; and then both the dark fig
ures, with many a curse and shiver
crouched together, biding their time.
Poor Mrs. Cuthbert, as the night
crept on, wandered from window to win
dow, with the vague feeling that if she
could not see her husband from one win
dow she might from another. Some
times she stood at the door, listening in
tently, and conjuring every breath of
wind into the longedfor footsteps, her
heart dying within her at each fresh dis
appointment. She must have walked
miles in that small house; the baby waxed
restless, and she was up many times to
replace the coverings that the sturdy
little legs had thrown off in climbing the
invisible mountain that child is always
ascending in his sleep.
The clock struck one. How like the
voice of fate it sounded, 1t was not at
all the cheerful ting that, when the sun
was shining, had announced the dinner
hour that day.
A distant dog barked, and Mrs. Cuth-
bert rushed to the door; she had re.
sumed her sewing to keep herself from
going distracted, and she still clasped it
in her hand. What black, black night!
and how cold the wind was! Hark she
was certain she heard voices by the gate.
Yes; she did. Just then the baby began
to cry, and only stopping to call back,
In moment, darling" she plunged
down the walk.
All was silent; there was no one there
She stood with her hand upon the gate a
few seconds, looking eagerly up the
road, and then walked slowly back to the
house.
As the front.door closed, the lilac bush
by the gate quivered, and two dark fig
ures crawled from under it.
When Mrs. Cuthbert laid the baby in
his cradle, after singing him back to the
invisible mountains, the clock struck
two, and Mrs. Cuthbert looked hopeless
ness in the face.
George was never coming home, she
decided. 1t was no use watching; he
was never coming home any more. Then,
as the next gust of wind sent twig rat
Ting on the gravel, she was at the win.
dow, straining her eyes as she had been