Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1881-08-11
BESIEGING HIS HEART.

ga clergyman hasn't any business to
be single man," said Mrs. Brushby.
Certainly not" acquiesced Miss
Foxe
"But dare say he's engaged" slyly
remarked the plump widow, with a
sidelong glance of her green eyes, which
seemed to dilate and contract, like those
of middle-aged cat.
"No, he's not" said Miss Foxe. cat
least I heard him tell Colonel Copley
that he was entirely fancy free"
"Humph" said Mrs. Brushby. '"Then
there's no reason why he shouldn't
marry and settle here at Exmar."
''Exmar, indeed!" said Miss Foxe,
who had accepted her own old maiden
hood as a foregone conclusion. '"There's
nobody here for him to marry-only fac
tory girls, and Colonel Copley's six
daughters, the youngest of whom is
three and twenty, to select from.
The green eyes scintillated sharply.
"Why shouldn't he marry either you
or me, Felicia Foxe ?" asked Mrs Brush
by.
Miss Foxe gave a sort of gasp, as if
she had attempted to swallow some NOR
sci too large for her
"Why, he amt 30 - said she.
Neither am l." said Mrs. Brrlshby.
"No, Cornelia Brushby, there amt no
sort of use coming that sort of game over
me-" said Miss Foxe, fairly aroused at
last into antagonism. "You were eight
and twenty when you married Brushby,
and he's been dead and buried these ten
good years.
Mrs. Brusnby laughed.
"Felicia," said she, you're worse
than an old family record. Don't you
see, there's people older than their years,
and people younger! I'm one of the
latter; and don't see why 1 can't marry
Mr.. Selwyn, if once make up my mind
to do So"
So Mrs. Brushby took up the brown
yarn that she had been buying at Felicia
Foxes thread and needle store, and went
home.
Her niece, a tall, pale girl, with yellow
hair like braids of dead gold, transpa-
rent pale skin and sad, hazel eyes, was
setting the table.
"How slow you are, Clara p said Mrs.
Brushby, snappishly. 81 supposed, of
course, tea would be all ready by the
time came back"
'I'm sorry for the delay, aunt" said
Clara, timidly, ''but was detained at
the factory"
''There, that will do. don't see why
you need be flinging the factory in my
face all the time. Oh, it's bad enough
to have a niece obliged to drudge for
her living without hearing of it forty
times day."
The deepest scarlet glow mounted in
to Clara Cones cheeks.
81 could not pay my board, aunt, !"
said she, eff I did not earn the money
in the factory. But if the subject is
disagreeable to you will endeavor to
avoid it."
It was now six months since Clara
Cone had arrived, q homeless orphan,
with all her worldly belongings packed
in a shabby little travelling bag, at Mrs.
Brushby's door.
"Aunt," she said, trying to repress
the rising sob in her throat, twill you
give me a home? 1 am your sisters
orphan daughter"
Mrs. Brushby had received her as
cordially as fish might have done.
ST suppose you'll have to stay" said
Mrs. Brushby. But 1 didn't die and
leave swarm of orphans for my sister
to take care of. Oh, yes, you can stay,
and perhaps can find you situation
as dressmakers apprentice or in a shop.
Because, of course, one cannot expect
me to keep great girl like you for no
thing"
! Upon which Clara bestirred herself
actively and had been thankful to obtain
a place in the pin factory, in the glen
below the village, where half hundred
other pale-faced operatives worked for a
scanty livelihood, and Mrs. Brushby
charged her a high price for board, and
got a servant-maid's work out of he1
before and after hours into the bargain.
81 should like to go church, aunt, y
Clara had ventured to say one Sunday
morning when the naples in the glen
were all blazing in their autumn colors
''That's just like you selfshness Clara
Cone |" said Mrs. Brushby, acidly
"And let me stay at home, for, of course
one of us must stay at home, to see tha
we are not robbed by tramps, and cool
the dinner"
''But couldn't I go in the evening
aunt ?"
"Certainly not /" said Mrs. Brushby