The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1880-12-14
Old Medbury' Heir.

flying flakes-pavement in that slippery
state when the newly fallen snow gives
beneath your feet-sudden gusts driving
the storm into your face like shower
of pins and needles-and a general sense
Of discomfort in the atmosphere that
as far as pen and ink can render 1t, was
the state of things upon that stormy
February evening when Marmaduke
Ferroll stumbled over George Leslie,and
they had nearly shut the door in Frank
Fessenden's face upon old Medbury's
doorstep.
81 thought" observed the former
gentleman, with slight suspicion of
embarrassment in his manner, "that I'd
Just step round and inquire how my un-
Gle Samuel was after that last touch of
gout."
"Of course, of course" assented Mr..
Leslie, shaking the snow from his um-
brella in the vestibule. AS 1t was
stormy night thought uncle Samuel
might be lonesome.
"And l." observed Frank Fessenden
debonnairdly, shave come hither, not
because supposed uncle Samuel cared
particularly to see or because found
myself unable to exist without his pres
ence, but simply to ask if he could help
me to a situation"
Marmaduke Ferroll and George Leslie
eyed the third cousin obviously.
"Uncle Medbury don't like to have
favors asked" observed Ferroll, dryly.
I'm sorry for that said Frank "but
1 can't help it."
" Excuse me, cousin Fessenden,"
smoothly put in Leslie, "but all elderly
persons have their peculiarities, and my
uncle is particular about ones toilette" "
"Once again I'm sorry,' confessed
Frank, with rueful glance at the
threadbare seams and glossy collar of his
garment; "but this is the best coat I've
got, and 1 don't believe in running in
debt for another one."
Just then the door flew open with
suddenness that was startling, and
sharp, abrupt voice, not unlike bark,
demanded:
"Who's there2 And why don't you
come in and have done with itp"
Mr.. Medbury was little bald.pated
man with falcon. shaped nose, sharp,
keen blue specks of steel, and smooth
shaven skin-and he looked like a second
edition of Napoleon Bonaparte as he
stood in the elegantly furnished study,
low fire burning on the marble hearth,
wine and walnuts on the table, and
bunch of hot-house grapes, half hidden
in roses on a silver basket beyond.
Pen, ink and paper were pushed back,
and crumpled newspaper lay on the
carpet beyond Mr.. Medbury's easy chair.
The three nephews entered accordingly.
Mr.. Medbury greeted them after his
fashion but as he went to draw toward
him the tray of fruit, his pen handle
rolled off and fell, of course with the
point of the pen sticking deep into the
carpet. Mr.. Medbury uttered hollow
groan.
" There's my gold pen gone I" la
mented he. My gold pen that have
had for quarter of century,"
The nephews were loud in their con-
dolence and sympathy, but Medbury
was like Rachael in Scripture, and re-
fused to be comforted.
"Will you hold your tongue ?"
brusquely demanded he. "It's bad
enough to lose an old friend like my gold
pen, but to be deafened by your howls
is sufficient to drive one insane"
And the three nephews subsided at
once.
"Now then,' said Mr.. Medbury,
abruptly, still eyeing the broken nib of
his beloved golden pen, "what do you
all want?"
"To spend social evening with you,
sir" said Leslie politely.
ITO inquire after your health"
smoothly remarked Ferroll.
"To ask favor of you, sir" said
Frank Fessenden.
First two-humbug barked the
old gentleman. "Last one-probably |
the truth. What favor now, eh, Frank
Mind, I won't lend money. never
lent farthing, especially to relative"
Fortunately it's not money that /
want" said Mr.. Fessenden, with phil
osophy. 81 would like your influence
to secure me vacant situation at Mellor
and Moorham's.''
" What !" cried out the old gentleman
ironically surprised, "a Fessenden turn
ing clerk ?''
" A Fessenden had better work than