The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1877-02-14

with a paper in her hand which she
shook into the soup, and then threw il
into the fire.
"That's the red pepper F.; it will dc
now,' said she, taking upa spoonful
and making believe to taste, but she
did not. l stitched on for a minute OF
two, though my blood was running
cold, and the boiling of the soup in
the large, quiet kitchen sounds through
my head even now. Mrs. Williams
was standing at the window with her
back to me. I never knew what
made me do it; but it was as if some.
one had hidden me, and, without a
word or thought but that it must be
done, ran to the fire, gave the sauce
pan a poke, and sent the soup a blaz.
ing up the chimney. AS it fizzled up,
the thought of her anger came over
me, knew not what did but, ut.
tering wild cry of fear, I rushed to
the nearest door, and it was the best
parlor. The next thing I remember
is crouching behind the gentleman
who had started up and stood in the
door, as Mrs Williams came forward
with two knives, which had been ly-
ing on the WindoW.sill, in her hand.
, ''Pooh never mind the splitting of
the SOUP" said he, understanding at
once what I had done, which, indeed,
was easily seen. ''You would not be
angry with the child for that; she
could not help it, dare say. I can
dine without it. You don't know me,
Mrs. Williams he continued, coming
a step nearer where she stood, look
ing at me with a deadly glitter in her
eyes. .~,
'sDon't 2" said she. think she
was trying which one of the knives
was the sharpest. AN.
s'Well," said the gentleman, ssyOu
may know me to be Edward Winstane.
ly, but you don't know that married
your daughter, and brought her home
a lady. I never meant to act the vii
lain with her. We were privately
married, but while the old gentleman
lived it had to be kept secret. This is
why I come to-day to surprise you :;
but you will come to Winstanely Park
to give us your blessing; you are not
going to faint?'' u
She had staggered back against the
wall, her white lips set, and her eyes
growing CLASSY. Him and me. and half a
dozen of the servants whom my scream
brought in, she pushed away with a
desperate effort, darted upstairs, and
we heard her lock herself in her room.
The whole house was terribly fright
ened. What Mr.. Winstanely thought, I
do not know, but he asked me no ques-
tions. and never seemed to suspect any
thing about the spilled soup. We all
went about our business. For work
never Stacked in that house on any &C.
count, and the evenings coach was ex-
pected. just before it came, Mrs.
Williams bell rang, land the house.maid
said she wanted me. When I came
into the room she was sitting at the
desk looking like herself again, but
her face was still white, and she had
her long knitted purse, full of guineas,
in her hand. 49, II
"Mary,'' said she, "you are a good
girl-take this and go home-I'll take
care you get no blame.''
81 want no money, madame,' Said
I, "but I'll go home, if you will let me,
and never say a word, except to my
father and mother.''
She held out the purse once more,
and then pointed to the door, but could
say nothing; it must have been hard
pull for her proud spirit. l got out of
the room as quick as I could, threw
on my hat and cloak, and got into the
coach as soon as it came up, leaving
trunk and all behind me.
My father and mother were nightly
surprise, when it set me down at their
door in Chatford just as the clock
struck twelve; they were still more
astonished when I told them what had
brought me home. My father first
called me brave, good girl. and then
advised me not to be proud about it,
because it was the work of Providence,
and we were bound on all hands to
keep such story quiet about Farmer
Dickson's relation. The story was
kept between me and them; but my
homecoming got wind, and Farmer
Dickson came in great hurry to know
why Mary had left her good situation.
My mother would not have refec-
tiOns cast on her chila, so she took
him in the parlor, and what she said l
don't know, because the door was
fast shut but he came out rubbing
his hands and clapped me on the back -,
saying ;"You are a fine girl, Mary,
and if Harry don't finish that business,
I'll make you to be Mrs. Dickson my.
SELF
think I have not much more to
tell. Harry did finish the business.
There were some people in our viii
lage that never got over the wonder
of it but am proud to say the Dick
son family did not lose by me, for, ten
uaars after Mrs Wilt ANS died in hon: