St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-10-07
The Deacon,s Dreams.

young girl bent still lower over the
book she was reading. A foOtstep
sounded upon the well-beaten yard,
and both mother and daughter started
nervously, the latter slipping her book
hurriedly out of sight, and starting to-
ward the stove.
"It's only Willie," said Mrs. Hey
worth, resIlming her patching with
sigh of relief.
The boy who entered threw himself
dejectedly upon the long, high-back
settee, and buried his face for mo-
ment in his hands, then starting up
exclaimed
81 might just as well give up first as
last, l suppose"
40, Willie, did father say you could
not go 7" '.'
1t was the girl who spoke, and her
face famed red and hot as she turned
to her brother.
"Of course he did! l might have
known it," he added in choked voice
''but did think that surely he would
consent when he knew how much |
wanted to go to college, and how hard
had tried to prepare for entering this
fall.n
'Did you tell him about it, Willie 2"
ayes, but he only said needn't say
another word he had 'set his foot
down that his boys should be farmers,
and farmers had no need OF college; it
only made them lazy and stuck-up-
lazy and stuck-up AS if | wouldn't
work my fingers to the bone and study
all night long if only and his voice
broke away in sob.
He was sixteen; a great, shy, awk-
ward boy with a promise of manly
beauty on the smooth face, and broad,
white brow prophecy of noble man.
hood in the clear eyes, the firmly set
lips, and well-pOised head.
This was his ambition to go to col
lege, to know the many, many things
that students knew; by day and by
night it had been his one wild hope,
sleeping or waking, ever present with
him.
81 do think it's too bad, and father
is just as mean as he can be! | don't
care !" she exclaimed defantly, turning
determinedly away from her mothers
admonitOry "Mary Mary childr' ~
don't care If father wanted us all to
hate him he couldn't try harder than
he is doing all the time to bring it
about. There isn't day that he does
not set his foot down as he says, to
something we all hate and protest
against. You know as well as | do,
that if it hadn't been for some things,
'Lis'beth would never have left home,
and if he don't mind, there'll be one or
two others missing one of these morn
ings." .. .s
And having "said her say" she turn
ed her flashing grey eyes and flushed,
burning face away from them toward
the heated oven, where, after giving
the nicely baked bread vigorous
thump and shake, she deposited it
again, instead of upon the table, as she
should have done. ....
"Well, grieving won't do my work, u
said the boy, with pitiful attempt at
cheerfulness. an just have to quit
thinking about it, that's all" And he
walked SLOWLY away from the house,
and off over the meadow lot with a
sad, hopeless air, that made the moth
er's heart ache. A winter look came
over the patient, care-wOrn face, and
the lines about her mouth settled into
tense rigidity as Mrs. HeywOrth's eyes
followed her son. Was it right 2 Was
it just that her children's lives should
thus be cramped and narrowed down
to the standard of one little soul [?
So well she knew her children's
troubles that she could not at heart
blame her daughter for the sudden
outburst that had just Occurred-there
was too much truth in the girls rapid
words. Poor Willie! How hard he
had studied, every moment that he
could snatch from work, preparing
) himself for examinatiOn-hOp al
though against hope, to enter college
How proudly he had exclaimed, dash
ing down the books gleefully:
''There, mother! there's not an ex,
ample in this | cannot solve, or prop
osition cannot state, and as for these
fellows" rapidly running over othel
text books, "there's not Il question
here | cannot answer, from lid to lid
and now, mother, don't you think per
, haps father will let me goP"
And then she thought, with a shiver
of the words of her restless, high-spi
tied daughter:
''If he don't mind, there will be on,
J or two others missing one of these fin,
, mornings"
Would it end in that at last? AL
, ready one had gone, searching else
where for the freedom to think and ac
that was denied her at home. Was i
right that all the sunshine, all the hap
q piness should be crushed out of thei
lives? She knew that it was not, an,
! had not she an equal right to determin
4 upon their future with their father?
The sunbeams slowly heightened
q creeping up and over her feet, he
work, and her folded hands, until the
i flashed upon her with sudden blind
/ ness.
e "COme, Mary, it's most time for sup
n per and father'n soon be in from til
4 field ?" and she gathered up her wor
: with a weary sigh.
: "The deacon is kind enough a
= heart, she thought, half apologetically
"only he's so set" ...
For moment she fingered in til
doorway, then, turning away, sait
e hurriedly:
d "The men are coming; you skim til
e milk, child, while | cut the breat
. Where is the bread ?" and she glance
!, inquiringly from the empty bread-clot
IL to her daughter.
). ''Oh, mOtheri AS | live, | do b,
m lievem She opened the oven doc
# slowly, and with the air one might |
supposed to wear going to his execI
ton. The bread was almost in a blaz
1T and blacker than any Chloe that ev'
re lived.
= This was the climax of misfortune
burnt bread was the deacOn's particl
=" lar aversion, the eating of which W;
II. always considered by him worthy
l. indefinitely greater patience than Il
incOmparable Job ever possessed.