Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1879-10-24
LEMONFTNGERS.



a short storyby Charles Dickens.
Five years ago l was telegraph clerk at
Newstone station. | had a week Of day duty
and week of night duty alternately. Christ
mas eve had come round, of all nights in the
year, and there l found myself cooped up as
usual in the little office two great staring in
struments in front of mo, faring gaslight
overhead, and well-heated crate by my
side; not forgetting three-volume novel TO
assist me in Willing away the long dark
hours.
The night messages at Newstone were new
er very numerous. There were rarely any
for private people they referred mostly to
the business of the railway company. That
evening l felt very low spirited. 1t went
against the grain to work on Christmas eve,
when everybody else seemed to be keeping
holiday and enjoying themselves Cary and
had been engaged for about two years, and,
for any prospect of marriage, We might be
engaged for twenty years longer. Mr.. Ian
caster, Carys father was tradesman in a
good way of business, and naturally refused
to let his daughter marry a fellow who was
getting only seventy pounds year. He sew
eral times advised Cary to give me up, but
as she would not do that, he contented him
self with forbidding me the house trusting to
time and distance, for they lived several
miles from Newstone to aid his cause.
knew that Mr. Lancaster always invited a
number of young people to his house on
Christmas eve, and l pictured them there,
dancing Cary fitting about in her white
muslin dress with the very riband round her
waist that had given her only month be-
fore. Would any thought of my miserable
self cross her mind, rs she moved among the
gay company Perhaps my detested rival,
Binks, the draper, might be even dancing
with her, and pressing her waist with his
arms AT that very moment. Thoughts not
calmly to be borne; so away | went on the
platform for a change Of scene.
\ clear starlight night, with keen breeze
that whistled through the telegraph wires
above my head, and brought to my ears the
faint sounds, made soft and sweet by distance,
of the Christmas waits. Lanterns, fitting
like fire flames among the wagons in the sta
ton yard hoarso uncouth shouts of men,
and wild shrieks from distracted locomotives,
that seemed madly tearing up and down,
merely to keep themselves in glow on such
bitter night, and not because they had any
thing to do. So into the office again, with
numb fingers, glad of such a haven.
The long dark hours sped slowly each
hour clinked out 10y the valorous little clock
in the corner. Midnight came and went !;
one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock. l
had grown tired of the charming heroine, and
had again become weakly Respondent on the
subject of Binks, when was aroused by the
quick tinkle of the electric bell. A private
message -
Mr.. Korf, Ironville, to Mr.. Darke, 80
High street, Newstone.
"Lemonfngers starts by the mail tonight
All Creme Take care OF the black dwarf"
was accustomed to queer messages, but
this was the oldest | had seen. | spelled it
over twice, to see that had got it down cor
rectly, then copied it out on one of the print
ed FORMS signed it, entered at the foot the
time had receiyed-34j-an and placed it in
an envelope.
Number thirty-ni High street was the
residence of Mr.. Breem, the tailor, and was
only five minutes walk from the station Mr.
Breem generally had apartments to let and
Mr. Darke was probably a lodger Having
locked the Office door, proceeded on n rapid
trot toward Mr.. Breem's. | concluded that
Mr.. Darke was a Snowman, and that some
body was sending him dwarf-perhaps a
| giant also-but certainly a dwarf, to put in
his caravan. There was light i'll the second
| floor of number thirty nine. Was Mr.. Darke
waiting, expectant of a message? 1t looked
like it.
gave loud knock and stepped back to
note the effect. The light in the second floor
was not moved, but the window WIS opened,
and head popped out, and gruG voice de-
manded
who's there p
Does Mr. Darke live here2 ?"
why do you want TO know"
I've got a telegraphic message for him"
| ugh all right. Wait minute"
very gruff voice certainly. Next mo-
ment the door was opened as far as the chain
would admit, and great muscular hand was
| thrust out.
"Handit here, )" said Mr.. Darke.
Accordingly placed the note in his hand.
"Wait bit till see whether any answer
is required"
| In "A minute or two the window was again
opened, mo answer" and the easement was
slammed down. With the exception of his
voice, had no more idea of Mr.. Darke when
| left No, thirty-nine than had when went.
| had merely seen the outline of his head when
he looked out of his window. Whether he
was a young man or an old man, fair man
or dark man, l was equally at loss to know.
Ironville is thirty five miles from New
| stone. The mail train runs the distance in
rather under an hour, and reaches the latter
place at half-pas FIVE. As the clock pointed
| to half past five, set of for a stroll up the
| platform, determined that if any dwarf or 81
| ant, or other strange monster, arrived by the
lIhll, ne hllOulu uOl utphIb uhhSNh b1 lAASs
| half expected to find Mr.. Darke waiting for
the train, but he was not TO be seen. True
to the time, the train crawled slowly into the
station and in another moment the platform
was flooded with those strangely attired indi-
| viduals, whose business or pleasure induces
them to travel by night No dwarf. nor 81
ant nor other strange monster. Only one
passenger for Newstone, all the others book
ed through, as was evident from their frantic
| struggles to find their seats the moment the
bell clashed out its warning note. And this
| one passenger? A slim gentleman, stylishly
| dressed Young, without whskers, but with
a long fair moustache, which he was fond of
stroking with his exquisitely-g gloved thumb
and finger He alighted jauntily from a first
class carriage, smiled amiably on the porter,
who touched his cap, took up his small black
| portmanteau, gave one hurried, anxious
| glance round, broke into a smile again, swag-
| gered slowly down the platform, and, push
ing through the heavy folding doors, emerg-
ed into the street. Some swell from London
| come to spend Christmas with his friends,
sad to myself. But where can he be going
| TO at this time of the morning? None of the
inns will be open for above an hour.
Without waiting to consider whether it was
any business Of mine, l pushed through the
folding doors after the traveller. He was
walking slowly across the little square in
front of the station, looking from side to side,
as if not knowing which road to take Sud
denly dark figure gded out from behind
some projection and advanced towards him.
/ could hear the murmur of a few words.
Then the stranger took the portmanteau from
the travellers hand, and they went on tOgeth-
er at rapid pace into the town. All this
saw by the light of the station lamps. When
the two figures got beyond their influence,
| nd y,augah mt nf view in tba dpOQaF darE
! ness beyond, impelled by vague feeling of