The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1879-03-21
miscellaneous.


1t was the first of April, and sister Pruc and
myself were busiy engaged in re-rmmine
our spring suits and altering and arranging
| our school dresses, for we were both Yankee
"school ma ANS" and our united earnings lust
sutficed to pay the rent of our tiny cottage in
the little village of Sweet Fern, and to sup.
port, after n fashion, our invalid mother and
ourselves.
To be sure there there were times when we
were tired of turning old dresses, and wear
ing old hats, and when sight of the dainty
contents of the shop windows, or of the book
sellers shelves sent us home to cry our little
cry all by ourselves, without disturbing our
mother.
Thisafternoon had been particularly tried
My siver-gray poplin, my Sunday best for
summer, utterly refused to be coaxed into
wearing trim. Then little Sadie Borroughs
our next door neighbor, a little woman of six
summers, came in, and after chatting awhile
with mamma came to my side and demurely
asked if | would 'pleathe to open her knife ~
Presently discovered that the precious knife
had no blade, and the little morse of humani-
ty was gyrating around eXclaiming, "Now
you've been April-fooled, NTH Dolly, and
thyoudn't wonder if the Fool-catcher came
for you tonight, thyoudn't," and with her
face pressed close to the window, shouted 81
did it, Johnny, did it," when her little sweet
heart, aged seven, making one think of Boots
at the Holly Tree Inn,' crept away from UNI
der the lilac bushes his face fairly alive with
fun, and he evidently only restrained from
turning somersault, the slushy condition of
the sidewalks. The young conspirators en-
joyed the fun, but did not, for Sadie had left
her footprints on my dress, if not on the
sands of time" and Johnny had travelled
remorselessly over my white rose BUSH
But the rain had cleared away now, and the
afternoon sun was shining through rift in
the clouds, as if storms were entirely Il thing
of the past, and the world were a world OF
sunshine and arbutus blossoms and blue vio-
lets.
Away down the street Deacon Miless port
ly figure was walking majestically along, as if
the eyes of all Sweet Fern were upon him. as
indeed they were, for was he not known to
be in search of suitable person for Mrs.
Miles ~ ? Now | never could decide until
quite lately, what particular attraction our
little cottage possessed for this magnate of
the village, whether it was Prue's exquisite
little suppers, the old fashioned politeness of
mamma, or my own humble SELF but he was
certain to drop in once week to our six
o'clock tea.
Prue was singing at her work, pleasant
fashion she had. remember the words other
song were
81 chatter chatter, as flow
To join the trimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,
But go on forever r.
When | suppose l started her out of her
usual calmness by eXclaiming, Il won't 90
on forever in this turning and twisting and
cOntriving how to make one dollar do the
work of five | am just tired of the whole
business, and I'll marry Deacon Miles if he
asks me to. His great house wants mistress,
and | want-a thousand things"
But not the Deacon" said Prue, as she
deity fastened a blue bow on the sleeves of
hergrey dress and Dorothea Vanderlaken,
what are you thinking of to talk such non.
sense? You know you wouldn't marry him
if he were worth a million"
Now | knew Prue was veXed, for she never
called me Dorothea unless | was especially
aggravating, so told her to wait and see,
but to myself thought with shudder of the
fussy, pompous old man who before the grass
was green over the grave of his third wife,
was already looking about for her successor
Prucs dress was finished, and its soft gray
and blue hamonized perfectly with her clear
light complexion, and eyes as blue as q sum
mer sky. Mine was nearly completed, but its
knots of sober gray looked old madish and
precise beside hers, and was not satisfied at
all. Prue volunteered to get supper and / was
glad, for she had knack of cooking that
made her envied by all the housewives around
and it was well she had, for she only expected
to teach this one summer more, and at Christ
mas time she would go to home of her own
The last stitches were taken in my dress
the last bit of trimming fastened on, when
noticed stranger walking down the opposite
side of the street, as if somewhat undecided
where to go. Presently there was sharI
ring at the door-bell, and upon opening the
door | discovered him standing in the porch
"This is Dorothea Vanderlaken, presume,
| said he with the slightest possible inclination
of the head bowed in reply Il had bust
| ness in town this afternoon" he resumed
| "when | saw you at the window, and callet
| here first"
81 am sure | am much flattered. May
take the liberty to ask your name ?"
You need not feel at all flattered-I an
called the Fool-C atcher-get your hat anc
come with me at once" he said in ton,
of command which | had little power to re
sist.
"But mother and Prue," demonstrated, 6.
must tell them first"
Don't stand there delaying any longer
he replied impatiently. "You were read,
enough to leave them while ago, and marry
an old man twice your age for the sake of hi
money. You would sacrifice every principle
of honor, and throw away your womanhoot
for the sake of life of ease but you will fine
plenty of company, come"
could hear Prue's voice gayly singing,