St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-08-05

apron viciously, and, with her nose
tilted decidedly upward, and her eye
brows drawn decidedly downward, she
looked Il perfect vixen, as she scOwled
and Sulkcd ut the great clothes-basket
before her, hrimful of "hlack-eyed
peas" unshelled, the long, dry pods
twisted and tangled together, looking
very hard, and obstinate. and discOuT
aging, indeed.
Il won't shell 'cm-I won't shell
one - vowed Clover, putting out her
little foot and giving the basket ii kick
that sent it clear under the kitchen
table.
Glover Fleetwood, You will You'll
shell the last one -
Clovcl's aunt was thin and limp, and
languid of motion, but very determined
withal, and now she shut her month
like Il steeltrap, and pointed an uncom-
promising finger at the peas, after
which she trailcd her limp skirt ont to
the back yard, where big black kettle
of soap was bubbling.
And sulky little Glover, left alone,
confronted by the terrible peas, hit II
big hole in the corner of her apron,
and kicked the basket over on its side,
and stamped her foot and bit her lip,
and finally got il tin pan and chair
and began the hopclcsslooking task
with inpatient, savage little fingers.
Poor Glover was only seventeen, not
wise, not prepared for the hard phases
of life, nor even the small, unpleasant
tasks by the strength and patience and
faith that must come sooner or later,
especially with tender, cOnsidcrate
guidance. But at present, with the
good yet undeVcloped, and all the little
! sharp points of temper and contrari-
ness rubbed up the wrong way, with
! little, half-umcOnSCiOuS and unSatsticd
longings for help to grow upward into
il brighter and better atmosphere
than she knew, and with an admiNture
of real faults, Glover often appeared Il
decided vixen.
! There was one who, she felt instinct
lively could help her if he wOuld-the
gentleman who boarded at her aunts,
and who possessed the broad libCrality
and sympathy of il truly wise and noble
nature. But he spent the greater part
of his time in his own room writing
treatises on entomology.
''He cares heap more for bugs than
he does for me-" said Glover, disc0n-
! tcntedly. '.If he ever looks at me at
all, it is i'll Z way as if he was thinking,
| Il wonder what kind of an insect this
is Is it new specimen ? / hope
he won't take notion some time to
send me to the state entOmolOgist in ii
! bottle"
Just now, these dreadful, black-eyed
peas We're almost too much for Glover.
! The shells of some were tough and re
! fused to open, and some were stiff and
brittle, and snapped open uncXpectcd-
! ly, and the peas flew all around the
room. Her fingers were sore and her
shoulders ached.
1t was late in the afternoon ; her
aunt was busy emptying her soft-soaP
into stone Jars, and carrying it to the
smoke house. 1t was so hard to re
sumo the tires0me shclling that at last
IL dark temptation assailcd Glover.
! The basket was yet half-full of the
dreadful things, and there just a few
feet away, was big, empty fireplace,
with IA tircbuard before it. Now it
could very easily swallow up all these
peas, without injuIing its digestion in
the least and these sheIled peas, put
away in the attic, in the big bag with
unshclled peas were ut last discovered.
she would ut any rate have respite.
"What is the child up to -
Mr.. Clarendon stood i'll the doorway.
viewing with curious amusement. Miss
Clover's performance of dumping Il
great heap of rustling peapods in be
tween the two big andirons. She
banged the tirebOard up into its place
with spiteful. defiant little motion
and then gazed at the interviewer with
untiinching eyes, although the blood
was i'll her cheeks.
I'm hiding EN-. so | won't have II
shell EN-" she said "That's what In
up to-"
But. dear Miss Glover" he began
half puzzled.
You needn't lecture me-" she broke
in. II won't touch one of them, not il
you tell Aunt Beth, now"
Il wouldn't think of telling Aunt
Beth" he answered. Il only appeal II
. you. Does your conscience approve
Glover looked at him, sulkily, from
under her fringey, fiaXen topnot.
Maybe, if your fingers were sore ant
your shoulders were lame, and you de
, tested the sight of black-eyed pea AZ
much as | do, You would not ask the
n advice of your conscience, either" sh'
: said with faint tremOr in her voice.
He smiled. but it was gentle pity
; ing smile.
:, 'Poor little -" perhaps he was goin:
5 To say ':insect :" but limp calico dress
!. with limp woman inside of it. came
d lmguidly up the steps. and dropped
into IA chair as if they had suddcnl,
melted together at that point.
Glover spoke her aunt, in voice
which was i'll violent contrast to he
manner, ''if you've got them everlast
ing peas ont of the way at last, yol
better get that coffee a-roastingr
For once Mr.. Clarendon was guilt,
of great nonsense in the very frs
sentence of his treatise, for he wrote
/. "This new specimen is a poor, over
worked, simple foolish, darling littl
Ounce
II Whatever Glover pretended. til
black-eyed peas, hidden behind the fire
board, grew to Ice something of "A bur
den. She knew it would have bee
- better for her had she gone throug
with the task, instead OF shifting til
p. burden from her hands to her con
n, science. But she would not acknowl
y edge it and when she found Mr.. ClaI
4