Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-10-04
ITO LET-KIPpLE GRANGE


one so persistently, unalterably, persever
ingly on his list as Ripple Grange. Yea
after year it had figured on his books a
a " Desirable Country Residence, to b
bad on Reasonable Terms year afte
year it still hung hopelessly on his hands
| Nor was Mr.. Pixley the only real es
tate agent who had wrestled, so to speak
with Ripple Grange. Other land. broker
and rent-collectors had had their "try
at it. with unsatisfactory results. |
had been advertised in newspapers, ant
pasted up on bulletin boards, and still i
remained "Kirple Grange-To Let"
"Hang the old place :" said Mr.. Pix
ley. vehemently scratching his bald head
I"I wish it would burn down, o.
blow away, or something, It's dis
grace 10 a business man to keep such ar
eye-sore on his list. I've great mint
to put old Miss Briggs into it, to keep IT
in order until can get better tenant
She wants a place cheap. Ill let hel
have Ripple Grange for nothing.
So when Mrs. Briggs came tiptoeing
into the real estate office-a pale faced,
! melancholy little old maid, leading hel
terrier dog by its string, and wearing a
green veil to neutralize the spring winds
MIR. Pixley told her that Ripple Grange
should be hers, for the present at least.
You'll probably find it lonely said
he.
II dote on the country" said Miss
Briggs.
"And very much out of repair" he
added.
al don't doubt bu, that it will do for
me" said the little old spins,er, her faded
eyes Frightening.
Probably, also, there's ghost about
the premises" loosely uttered the agent.
Miss Briggs shook her head with sad
smile. ." It's live people am afraid of.
said she, ." not dead ones
well" said Mr.. Pixley. Ripple
Grange shall be yours this quarter, If
you'll fix up the garden little, and give
the place a lived-in sor, of look. OF
course il will be for sale, and shall ex-
pee, you to do your best for our inter
es,s"
And Miss Briggs courtesied, and said,
Yes, she would" and withdrew, great
ly elated in spirit.
Upon the same day, the 25th Of April.
Mr.. Baggsrall, the real estate agent OF
Dorchester, let Ripple Grange to old MIR.
Hyde. who was naturalis, and botan-
is, and etomologist, to say nothing OF
half dozen other lists, who wanted
quiet country home. with woods and
meadows in its vicinity, wherein to pros
ecu,e his beloved sciences. And Mac
pherson X Co, of Long Island, made
bargain with the Reverend Mr. Bellairs,
an invalid clergyman, who was IN search
of country air and complete repose. Mrs.
Bellairs was . pattern house-kceper, and
gloried in the prospec, Of grass bleaching,
new laid eggs, wild raspberries, and plen'
" Of plums and apricots for preserving
purposes.
And. strangely enough, it occurred to
none Of the three real estate agents TO let
the other two know Of his action.
There is never any demand for Kip.
pie Grange" said Macpherson n Co., IN
differently.
I'm write to ri1ley and old Mac
when | ge, time" said Baggarall.
There is no hurry about Ripple
Grange" though, rixley. "If Miss
Briggs keeps it from ,umbling to pieces
she will do very we'll.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Ripple herself, the
plump widow whose grandfather on the
husbands side had bequeathed her this
impracticable piece of property. began to
think of running down TO look at il her
self. They tell me there's no such
thing Us letting it," said she. IL have
mind to go down and see for myself.
One really pines for the county, now that
they are selling lilac blossoms and pan
sizes in the streets; and I'm quite sure
that change of air would do me good.
III take Dorcas, my maid, and a few
cans of peaches and sardines, and we'll
picnic at Ripple Grange, just for the fun
Of the thing
"It never rains but it pours, saith
the ancien. proyerb; so upon this windy
blooming April day, when the sunny
meadow slopes were purpled all over with
wild yiolets. and the yellow narcissus was
shaking its golden tassels over the neg
lected borders of Ripple Grange, the old
brick house, which had stood empty for
six good years at least, became all of
sudden alive.
II was an ancient mildewed structure,
on the edge of wood, an old red house
whose front garden, tangled over with
rose briars, and grown with fantastic
trunks of messy pear trees, and apples
that leaned almost to the ground, sloped
down to the bank Of merry little rivu-
let. Here the tiger lilies lifted their scar
let turbans in the July sunshine. and the
clumps Of velvety sweet williams bios
somed first and sweetest. Great cream
hearted roses swung against the tumble
down stone wall, and love-in- a. mist, Lon
don. pride, and all those rare old-fash-
ioned flowers Of our ancestors ran riot,
sprawling across the grass-grown paths,
and packing themselves into the angles
of the fence, where the honeysuckles
,railed, and the scarletpoppies looked like
drops of blood. The old garden of Kip
pie Grange was like horticultural show
zone mad at midsummer. And even
Il. &C