The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1877-08-14


while her ready handed step-mother SUI
pervised their solitary "help'' in put
ting away the tea things.
By the time poor Bill Emmons made
his appearance, after his long days
drudgery in the one law office of the vii
lage, where he was the junior, and there
fore perhaps the working, partner = by
that time Barbara was ready, civilly as
she received him, to wish he would post
pone his call until she could "receive
him in so much better style" And yet
that night, of all nights, the young law
yer had made up his mind to put his fate
to the test, "and win or loose it ALL"
Not a bad fellow was Bill, and he had
more than once reflected how charming
ly convenient was the location of the
Hawkins homestead, and what a ire
mendous lift the possession of that and
the productive little farm belonging
thereto would give to a struggling young
lawyer like himself. The fact that he
was over head and ears in love with
Barbara made the whole affair absolute
ly beautiful.
Sad was the trial to his impatient
feelings, therefore, when all the elo-
quence of which he was master-and he
had long considered himself master of
the situation as well-only resulted in
obtaining for him promise from Bar
bara that she "would consult her step
mother"
| "Such change it would make for
| her if l should leave her ?" sighed Bar
| bara.
g Not at all, not at ALL" eagerly ex-
| claimed Bill. She could live with us,
you know. Everybody likes her. I'm
sure do. She wouldn't be in the way
at ALL" But vain was all he could say
| or do, except that Barbara's vision of
| the Grover farm and house may have
receded somewhat as she listened to the
| pleading of her suitor. She almost hop
| ed Dan might not come that evening for
not only the present situation had its
charms, but it might have its perils as
well. Dan Grover was not a man to be
trified with, she knew, for all his quiet
self contained ways.
And so it was with something of q
feeling of relief that Barbara listened, at
last, to the bur of the big kitchen clock
| striking nine.
1t was at the same instant that the
shadows of the two who were walking
side by side in the moonlight fell on the
gate in singularly unified manner;
and then, as the gate opened, Barbara
sprang to her feet with slight excla-
nation. She had been sitting close to
the low window seat, and she had not
seen fit, or had forgotten, to light
lamp.
There may or there may not have been
any cause for surprise, but the way of it
had been this: No sooner were the tea
things out of the way than Mrs. Haw-
kins remembered an errand she had in
the village, and had slipped quietly out
to perform it. Nor would so simple
matter have taken two long hours, but
that, just as the widow was stepping
across the little foot-bridge at the brook,
the form of tall, broad shouldered, Wig
orous man of, say, thirty-five summers,
stood before her, and deep voice re-
| marked:
Right about face, please. want
bit of a talk with you, and thered be no
chance for it at the house."
Not word said the widow, as Dan
Grover drew her arm in his, but she
thought, eff he wants to speak of Bar
bara, he's right, for Bill Emmons must
be there by this time. What a fool she
is He don't begin to compare with
Dan."
1t must be confessed, however, that
1t seemed wonderfully pleasant, even
when Dan turned up the shadowy lane
toward the grove, and when he seemed
disposed to put off his express business
and to talk of his farm and his house,
and at last of himself
have everything around me fixed
as nicely as could ask for" he remark
ed at length :" but I grow lonelier
every day. The fact is, I've determined
to have wife, if I can get the one 1
want; but there's only one in all the
wide world. I'd be lonelier than am
now with any other"
Why don't you speak to her, then?"
said the widow, with half choked feel
ing in her throat "She'sa very sensi-
BILE girl, but don't think it would be