The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 18??-1882, 1881-12-09
BY THE BREADTH OF
AN AK.

~ quarter OF u mile back from the
river on the street that led down to
Martins saw mill, on the st. Anthony
Falls, stood the little white cottage that
Jack Donnelly had bought for his bride.
1t was not all paid for yet, but the
mortgage had been growing smaller
each spring for three years, and a
couple of seasons more would see the
entire amount paid, and then Alice
would be the proud owner of what she
aud Jack thought was the prettiest
place in Minneapolis.
And almost any one who might have
happened to catch glimpse, from the
cross street, of the tidy little kitchen
where Alice was busy one May evening
at sunset. would have been inclined to
agree with the verdict.
The floor was bare, but it was so
spotlessly clean that no one would have
dared to suggest the idea that it looked
bare. The stove was not very large,
but it seemed to be trying to give out
the heat of furnace, and the red glow
that came from its open door was like
the headlight of locomotive. Every
thing in theroom was plain, and there did
not seem to be anything there that was
not absolutely necessary. The luxuries
could wait till the mortgage was paid
off. But what there was was scrubbed
till it shOne, and the tea-kettle was
putting out steam like mad. 1t was
fairly wonderful how that little kettle
puffed and sang. and how the lid danced
lightly up and down.
But the brightest, tidiest object in
the room was Alice, with her brown
hair tied securely back with blue rib
bon Jack liked blue so very much) and
her blue eyes watching each particular
thing on the stove all the time, and yet
looking every moment at the table to
see If anything was missing that Jack
would want, and into the other room
to see if baby was all right and out of
mischief, and at the clock to see that
the minutes were not going too fast,
she fitted around the room singing like
a bird.
Everything was done just right, and
the clock said quarter past six. Jack
would be there in minute or two, so
supper was set back where it would
keep hot but not wait. 1t wouldn't be
long; Jack never loitered on his way
home. There was too much happiness
waiting for him. No stopping at the
corner for glass of something hot and
strong.
But the little clock kept on ticking
just as though Jack was there. And
the ticking grew louder and louder, and
more and more disagreeable, as it re-
morselessly checked off minute after
minute of the time that Jack was over
due.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty, and the
anxious little housewife sighed, as she
wondered what could be keeping Jack.
1t was nonsense TO suppose that he was
hurt. She would not think of it for a
moment. The idea that Jack--her
Jack-the bravest, strongest, coolest
logger on the river, had been hurt, was
laughable. And she laughed. But it
did not sound like the ripples of mer-
riment that Jack loved SO well, and it
stopped very suddenly, fading away
from face that looked very sober
when it was gone. sStss
Then baby began to cry, and there
was no use worrying then, because
Jack would be at home before baby
was quieted. And she began singing
to the little one. But there were one OF
two false notes in the song, and baby
evidently had an ear for music, for he
refused to be quieted.
And then, just as two big tears were
coming in her blue eyes, the front
gate opened, and Jacks step was heard
In moment more he was in the room
hearty and big as ever, but very wet
and pale.
Therel therel Alice, darling, kiss me
again, but don't put your arms around
me, fur I've had duckin'. Why, dar