Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1877-05-16

bushes
Tered the gravel-path,
As the hours woie on, another dark fp
ire joined the one Of the ugly face. and was
erected with an oath upon his laziuess. and
me information that something was up."
hat the first chance was "spiled," and they
would have to =" lay a while !" and then both
the dark figures, with many curse and
'hlver, crouched together, biding their time
Poor Mrs. Cuthbert, as the night crept on,
wandered from window TO window, with the
vague feeling that if she could not see her
husband from one, she might from another
Sometimes she stood at the door, listening
lnteDtly, and conjuring every breath of wind
into the longed-for footsteps, her heart dy-
ing within her at each fresh disappoint-
ment She must have walked miles Ia that
small house, the baby waxed restless, and
She was up many times TO replace the cover
'ngs that the sturdy little legs had thrown
OIL in climbing the invisible mountains that
the child is always ascending in his sleep.
The clock struck one. How like the voice
ot fate it sounded 1t was not at all the
cheerful ting that, when the sun was shin
ing, had announced the dinner hour that day.
distant dog barked, and Mrs. Cuthbert
'ushed to the door she had resumed her
ewing TO keep herself from going distracted,
md she still clasped it in her hand. What
black, black night and how cold the wind
vas HaFk she was certain she heard
'oices by the gate: Yes she did. Just
hen the baby began to cry and only stop
Ding to call back, " in a moment, darling"
'he plunged down the walk.
All was silent; there was no one there.
She stood with her hand upon the gate
ew seconds, looking eagerly up the road.
md then walked slowly back to the house
As the front-door closed, the lilac bush by
he gate quivered, and two dark figures
.rawled from under it.
When Mrs. Cuthbert laid the baby in his
'radle, after singing him back to the invisi-
lie mountains, the clock struck two, and
Mrs. Cuthbert looked hopelessness in the
ace.
George was never coming home, she de-
'ided 1t was no use watching; he was
iever coming home any more. Then, as the
next gust of wind sent twig rattling on the
gravel, she was at the window, straining her
,yes as she had been doing all the evening.
How strange every familiar object in the
house seemed the lights burned so Whitley,
Ind the sitting-room looked so uncanny,
with the tea table spread, and the hands Of
the clock marking the small hours. An un-
reasonable moth went banging about the
ceiling with what sounded tremendous
noise in that dead silence and the fire re-
fused point-tlank to be cheerful, despite the
armfuls of wood piled on it.
How the hours dragged She seemed to
have lived years since she heard those foot
steps on the porch. Why had she been such
4 foolY
1t was five o'clock now, and the roosters
far and near began to herald the approach
IF dawn. The sky turned from black to
gray, aud whtish smudge in the east an
nounced the rise of the glorious sun.
Mrs. Cuthbert put out the lights aud went
to the front-door. A drzzlng rain had set
in. and the damp raw air made her shudder.
She went back to the sitting-room, and, i'll
lrearv, mechanical kind OF way, lit the fire
there and in the little kitchen; then brought
baby down stairs, washed and dressed him
AS usual and put him on the floor to play
while she prepared his bread and milk
But baby was not destined to get his
breakfast Just yet, for at that moment
light step was heard in the entry, and tall
Young man walked into the room. The
bread and milk were dropped anywhere,
and Mrs. Cuthbert flung herself into his
arms, sobbing, crying, and begging his par
don all in breath.
"I'll never do it again. Won't you for
give me, George 70
Forgive what haven't anything to
forgive, sald the astonlshed George.
son, yes, you have. know 1t was dread
fully wicked OF me; but Will never do 1t
again.
nat on earth Is the matter
Won't you forgive me z was all Mrs.
Cuthbert's answer
Eleanor, what IS the matter : demanded
the distracted young man, all kinds OF awful
visions flying through his brain. What
have you done Y
"Why, didn't let you III when you came
home last night. only meant to keep you
waiting little while.
when came home last night why,
| haven't been within hiteen miles OF the
house since seven o'clock yesterday morning.
I've Just come down on the 1our-thlrty tram.
didn't you come home last night ?"
gasped Mrs. Cuthbert.
"Come home No, OF course dldnt
I've been working at the office hall the
night Didn't you receive my telegram say
ing that should be detained in the city all
night =
"No, haven't received any What does
it all mean 7"
And then she told him all about it-ln
she made him understand, and he was greatly
puzzled as to whom it could have been.
Mrs. Cuthbert, now that her mind was re-
lieved, began to remember that she had
eaten nothing since dinner the day before,
and was soon flying about brolllng ham,
and poaching eggs, stopping to have hearty
laugh over the charred remains OF her hus-
bands supper, which she took from the
oven. Then they sat down to the tea table,
baby and all, aud ate their breakfast.
That afternoon the village youth who did
their chores was unusually late in com
ing, but when he did arrive 1t was with
such budget OF news that his tardiness was
forgiven.
lie had been an eyewitness to the cap
ture of two burglars at Squire Jones they
had been discovered in the very act OF car
| rying off the silver.
Laws, how they fit' said the boy.
They smashed Bill Williams head IN with
/ me am when we had 'en caught tight, how
/ ,hey did talk They told about how one of
/ 'rm tried to get into this house. but Mrs.
| Cuthb.rt wouldn't let him in. lie called 10
her through the window, but she wouldn't
| look around at him. When h. left the win
,vav She chased after him. but he hid till
.he went in agnin. After awhile she came
ont after him again. when he an his pal was
hidin' nnder some bushes. an thew was afraid
] "a -. l.. .