The Lamoille news. (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1877-1881, 1880-12-08

Mr. MarcheIl, a stout, good-humored
farmer, with shining bald head, and a
pair of English iron gray whiskers,
welcomed the little girl with kindly
pat on the head, and an admonition to
be sure and do her duty, and it would
always be done by her."
And Charley Marchell, the only son,
and heir of the red brick farmhouse,
with its acres of golden wheat and
emerald stretches of pasture land, nick
named her Miss Midget" on the spot.
Because you are such stunted little
affair."" said he.
Phebe Locket had not been bound
girl" at the Marchell house for more
than few months when, one day, Mrs.
Marchell came into the great airy
"keeping-room" with perturbed ex-
preston on her countenance.
81 thought 1 heard a fiddle some.
where" said she.
Just what you did hear" said
Charley. "It's Phebe, in the garrett"
"Phebe" calculated Mrs. Marchell.
And where on earth did she get fid-
dleP"
Borrowed it from old Mr.. Findley,"
said Charley, laughing. "You never
saw creature so bewitched after tid-
die as she is"
Nonsense" said Mrs. Marchell,
sharply. "What business has bound
girl with fiddle, or with any sort of
music, for that matterp"
Its no harm, wife-no HARM" said
the farmer, indulgently.
But it is harm," said Mrs. Mar
chell, land l mean to put stop to it."
And Phebe Locket, seated Turk
fashion on the floor of the old garret,
with tattered shawl wrapped around
her shoulders, and the red level light of
tile winter sunset weaving itself around
her short auburn curls, was interrupted
in her musical reveries by the abrupt
entrance of Mrs. Marchell.
"Give me that fiddle" said Mrs.
M9rchell.
"Ma'amP" said Phebe, dropping her
bow in amazement.
Its silly waste of time" said Mrs.
Marchell, besides being sinful"
"But," pleaded Phebe, "I've done all
my work"
"No matter whether you have or
not" said Mrs. Marchell; "there's al
ways your patchwork to Dc. -.--' DI''rl-0
| sermons, to read, besides the weekly
paper. Give me that fiddle, I sayp
Poor Phebe gave it up, trying hard
to choke down the tears and sobs.
Old Nose Findley, the village violin
ist, who ofliciated at dances, weddings
and merry makings in general, and fill
ing up the interstices of his time with
the making and mending of shoes.
looked fairly astounded when Mrs,
Marchell bounced into his seven-by-
nine shop and flung the musical instru-
ment on the workbench.
"EhP" said old Moses, adjusting his
spectacles on the bridge of his nose.
"There's your old fiddle" said Mrs.
Marchel; Z" and wish after this you'd
be kind enough to keep it at home and
not 90 putting nonsense into my bound
girls head"
"But it isn't nonsense" said old
Moses. "She's got a capital idea OF
music, Phebe has, and
Nonsense! said Mrs. Marchell.
"And a very decent voice, if only it
was cultivated"
"Pshaw" said Mrs. Marchell, and
she flounced out of tn shop in a rage.
But if Mrs. MarcheIl was the child's
temporal mistress, music was her
spiritual one. Phebe Locket went
quietly about her work in the years that
followed, but she could not forget the
divine strains which the well ro5ined
bow had drawn from the antique violin,
il the red glow of the winter sunset,
that January afternoon in the garret.
Mrs. Merchell had done up her front
hair in papers, assumed her gray flannel
dressing gown, when CHANGING to look
out of the north kitchen window, she
saw, or thought she saw, the glimmer
of light in the top window of the
barn.
81 can't have been mistaken" said
7 Mrs. Marchell; it isn't the time of the
year for firefies, and will-o'-the. wisps
don't go dancing and twinkling round
QUE barn. It's tramps-that what it
is"
Fiddlesticksl" said Mr.. Marchell,
sleepily from the exact center of a downy
feather pillow.
/. "There was two men asked for a
r drink of milk at the buttery door just
r about DUSK added the lady. "and l
k didn't much like their looks at the
time"
y TITS all right, dare say" yawned
:, Mr.. Marchell.
s "Well," cried the farmeress, energet-
ically, if you don't go to look into it,
e / will"
J. And finging her husbands shaggy
3 overcoat around her, and taking the
r. lantern in one hand, she started for thu
,e bsrn.
She was right; there was dim tai
low candle burning in the barn cham
~ Der, and by its flickering light Pheb'
"a Locket was busy in practicing on tin
g. violin, from some sheets OF torn ant
h well. thumbed music.
at She started up with cry at the ap
partition OF Mrs. Marchell in the door
Il way-an avenging specter, with
IS. shaggy overcoat and dark lantern.
1T "Ungrateful grill" tragically erie
az out Mrs. Marchell; show dared 20
is disobey mep"
81 meant no HARM" faltered Pheb
,e, "I hired the violin from the yillag