Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1879-11-21
owp said the deacon decisively.

scared you look, child. There
no cause of bcin' scared. don't
put much faith in your Aunt James old
| tine superstitiOns. Where in the name
of all possessed is the key? 1 could
ha' declared l left it in the case"
Isn't it on the shelf, father P asked
| Mary. guiltily, conscious that it was
snugIy reposing in the pocket of her
checked gingham dress.
''No, nor faint in my pocket, neither" /"
And down went the deacon, stif1y
enough, on his knees, to examine the
floor, lest perchance the missing key
might have fallen there. well, tneveI
knew anything so strange in all my life, "
said the deacon
at is really very strange" " faltered
hypocritical Mary.
aI'II have q regular search tomorrow"
said Deacon Shermer. ut must be some
where around"
"Yes, it must, answered Mary, tremu-
lously.
@Only," the deacon went on, slowly
resuming his place by the fire, al kind
o. DON'T ike to have the old clock stand
still a single night. When I wake up,
YOU know, It seems Ike it was sort o.
talkin' to me in the stiffness" The
deacon looked tnoughtftlly at the fiery
backlog. Mary fdgeted uneasily about
the room, Strengthening up table covers.
setting back chairs and thinking-oh, if
he would only go to bedl As he sat
there his eyelids began to drop and
his head to nod somnolently. Mary's
eyes frightened up with a sparkle some
tning ike hope. "Cbild," he said sud
deny, Strengthening up in the stiff back
chair, you'd. better go to bed. I'll sit
up while longer till the log burns out"
"But, father, Pm not sleepy"
"Go TO ped my child !" reiterated the
deacon, with good humored authority
to brook no opposition; and Mary crept
out of the room ready to cry with anxiety
and modification.
"If Tim will only keep quIet little
while longer" she thought, sitting on
the stairs, while the moon streamed in
chilly spiendor. Father sleeps so
soundly-and he is sure to go to sleep in
his chair-I could Just steal in and re-
lease him as quietly as possible"
She sat there, her plump fingers inter
laced, and her eyes fixed dreamily on
the floor, while all the time her ears
were strained to the utmost capacity to
catch every sound in the kitchen beyond.
Hark was that the wall of the wind,
or was it something to her literally
"nearer and dearer% Yes; she could
not be mistaken now; it was actually a
snore.
Mary rose softly to her feet with re-
newed hope. Surely now was the
accepted time Noiselessly as the float
ing shadow she crossed the hall, opened
the kitchen door, and stole across the
creaking boards of the floor. The candles
were burnt out, but the shifting lustre
of the freight revealed her father nod
ding before the fire with closed eyes and
hands hanging by his sides.
'He's certainly asleep" thought Mary.
With heart that beat quick and fast,
she drew the key from her pocket and
proceeded in spite of the nervous tremb
ling of her fingers, to lift it into the lock
So absorbed was she that she never
noticed the cessation of the heavy
bi thing-never saw the deacon start
suddenly into wakefulness and look |
round him. Love is blind, and it is |
equally true that it is deaf. The deacon
rose quickly up with a shreWd twinkle |
in his eyes, and Mary gave d little |
frightened shrek, as a hand fell softly |
O4i ~ nv eiAA5 possessing Ab1Sh 4uAO1ig VI
the key.
Let me help you" said the deacon.
"Father, have found the keyp fall |
tered Mary, "and-"
"Found the keyp returned the sur
prised deacon. "Well, that's lucky; and |
now we can find out what is the matter |
with the clock"
Mary's heart, throbbing so wildly a |
moment ago, seemed to stand still as her |
father turned the key and opened the |
door of the clock case.
"Halloop exclaimed the deacon, as
Mr.. Timothy Marshall tumbled into the |
room. $50 you was the matter with the.
clock, ehT
Eyes, sir" said Tim, composedly. 81 |
hope haven't seriously interfered with
the works of the clock"
you've seriously interfered with mep
said the deacon, waxing indignant.
"What do you mean, sir, by hiding in |
my house like a thiefP'
"Indeed, indeed, fatherP cried Mary, |
bursting into tears, FFit wasn't his fault. |
He did not want to hide, but I put him
in there"
"You did, eh2 And may I ask what
forT
''Father," faltered Mary, rather irrev-
erently, 81 love him, and-he loves me !"
els that any reason why he should
hide in the clock case, missP
"No-but-fatherl Oh, fatherl can
never marry Mr.. Stanley. He is so soft,
and L"
Mary's tears finished the sentence for
her. The deacon looked mot unkindly) |
on her bowed head and the tender arm |
that supported it. Apparently, "the
course of true love-" roughly though it
ran, had overwhelmed all his own
worldly wise arrangements in its tide.
"And so you young folks really think
you love each otherp said the deacon,
meditatiVely.
SI love her with all my heart and
soul, sir" said Tim Marshall, earnestly.
'Tm not rich, I know, but can work
for her."
"And can work for myself, too, father"
interposed Mary, with eyes that shone
like softened stars.
"And you said yourself, sir" went on
Tim, "that the stopping of the clock
meant either death or marriage. Of
course We don't want any deaths, SO
don't you think the most sensible
thing we can do is to help on mar
riage as soon as possible%
The deacon laughed in spite of himself.
"Its late" he said. "Come around to-
morrow morning, and Wen talk about it.
No, Mary, I am not angry with you,
child. 1 s'pose young folks will be young
folks, and there's no use tryin' to stop
them"
As the deacon rehung the pendulum
and set the iron tongue of the old clock
talking again, Tim Marshall paused on
the doorstep to whisper to Mary.
"What shall it be Mary, death or
marriageT
And she in turn whispered:
"a marriage, I hope"
"In faithp said Tim, "it's worth pass
ing a lifetime behind your grandfathers
clock case to feel as do noW."
Bismarck IN His Family.