The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1878-08-01
THE BURNT LETTER.

1t was g0ssiping neighbor who had
been spending an hour with Mrs. Webb,
and just before she went she had let
fly the arrow she had kept in her qui-
YER
your son, Grantley, goes over the
! hill to the Burdock's pretty often, Mrs.
Webb, said she.
Il don't know it if he does," replied
the old lady.
Naturally he wouldn't tell you until
the last. after old BurdOck's quarreled
with his dead father" said the neigh
bor-"but everybody else knows. It's
said to be settled thing. Why, Kezi-
ah saw him kiss her at the gate one
Sunday night, and even Aunt Burdock
would hardly go so far as that unless it
was SO, eh? Well, goodbye"
She hurried off. leaving her hostess
dumb and motionless at the door.
1t was some moments before she
even thought OF going in and casting
herself into her chair, but she did it at
last, and fell to talking to herself in this
wise:-
"Oh, it's worse than anything that
ever happened to me. I've had trou-
bic. heaven knows, but it was the kind
l had to bear if God sent it, but this
doesn't seem right. My Grantley to
marry Steven Burdock's daughter, the
child of the very worst enemy his
father ever had, girl brought up by a
woman | despise! Sarah Burdock never
had the ways liked, nor did the things
| thought right for woman to do.
DuruOcks, SO strange. Like ought to
marry like, or therell never be happy
home. But that's the way with men;
pretty face strikes them and away they
go, and Grantley is like the rest. Why
should he choose Sarah Burdock's
daughter?'
She rocked to and fro rs she spoke,
letting her neglected knitting drop into
her lap.
There's Fanny White,n she MUIR
INJURED, "a nice, thrifty girl; and Min
ME Holm. Why, her mother is the
best friend | have. There are plenty
of girls | could have made up my mind
20; though | don't know why Grantley
should marry anyone yet. But Ann
Burdeck, with her snowy ways, and her
airs and graces, | never can welcome
her, never, never. must go away and
live by myself if she comes here to lord
it over the house; and her mother, no
doubt, will come and stand talk in her
foolish, flighty way; and her sisters
will sit in the parlor windows, and take
up the table. They'll be here half the
time, and make nobody of me. L Know
them. OH if my Grantley does mar
ry Ann Burdock. But it can't bel 1t
can'tm
Just then foot struck the floor of
the porch, the window raised a little,
and through the aperture came flying
two letters. One yellow, vulgar
looking missiye, the other little white
envelope with a monogram upon it.
lie Olu Iduy lOOhSu up.
The poStman, who had thus easily
delivered his letters, looked over his
! shoulder. and laughed and nodded at
her, us lie hurried away with his leather
bag upon his arm, and she put on her
spectacles to read the superScriptions.
The yellow envelope had only one Of
those circulars with which tradesmen
| of all sorts are in the habit Of flooding
the country. The White one was not
addressed TO her, but TO her son, and the
! nlunos am was Il very pretty silver ana
blue A. B.
Ann Burdock," said the old lady.
Its a note from her. Now | wonder
what she has written 10 my boy? I'd
like t. Know. Its very easy opening
these envelopes. 'Tisn't as if they
were sealed: and what harm would it
be for a mother to read letter to her
son? I've half mind to dc it. Only
/ he'd be angry, maybe. Well. then, I'm
| angry too, and with more reason. Yes
i will
A little old-fashioned copper kettle
simmered and bubbled upon the stove,
A little spirit of steam arose from its
I spout.
1 The old lady looked at it. Then, ris-
ing, she crept across the floor in a guilty
I sort of fashion, and held the envelope
with it flaps downward, close to the
mouth of the spout.
She held it for few moments, and
then softly touched it with her thumb
and finger.
1t was quite damp, and one fold peel
ed away from the other very easily, and
there lay the little note in her hand.
She might read it if she chose; if
there were secrets III it, Miss Ann Bur
dock should have secured them better
than she could with the little touch of
mucilage the maker of those envelopes
| had bestowed on each one
Mrs. Webb took off her glasses. wiped
tnem from the steam that had gathered