The Worthington advance., 1881-02-24

once to assist in the girdling process.
Why should he not! Yet, as he held
the hens, first one and then the other,
while she bound about the right leg
of each of the anti.incubating anklet,
she was inwardly agitated and could
not help being thankful it was early
morning, and that they were not like.
ly to be seen by any passers.by.
No such feeling perturbed MIR. But
terkin. He was honestly glad to help
ROxanna's friend-because she had
been her friend, he would have said
it if he had thought about the matter
ut all; and in the kindness of his
heart he presently asked if the chick
ems bran was not getting low. He
was going to the village; should he
call ut the mill!
"Or, if you have any errands, / can
take you over as we'll as not" he add.
ed, as an afterthOught, and was mildly
bcwildered ut seeing the sudden flush
on her face as she hurriedly answered
that she had no crrands.
Picking up the milk pail, i'll which
the frOth had perceptibly settled, he
walked away with 4 troubled express
sion. He hoped Ruth hadn't any hard
feeling toward him. And then it Oc-
Cured to him that though he had ask.
ed her often, he was sure, she had not
ridden with him for Il long while
not since-why, not since RoXanna
died and his own face flushed under
the dawn Of Il new idea, Ruth was
afraid the neighbors might talk :
strange he hadn't thought of it before.
Dear! dear! what timid little wO-
man she was.
AS he joggcd loncsOmely along in
the great wagon which used to carry
two, and seemed dismally empty with
one, he could not Danish her from his
mind, and he began gradually to real
ize how constantly she had been in it
Of late. What had made her manner
50 distant three months past ! Was it
fear of village gossip or did she real
ly dislike him! He wished he knew !;
and he jerked the reins. unwittingly
wo,nding the feelings of his faithful
beast, consciously trotting her best.
Turning in at his own gate, a rebel
lious clamor from Mrs. EbDeson' hen.
merry greeted his ear. Alas for his
vain attempt to overcome maternal in
stinct! Hardly had he left their sight
when the clucking Brahnas sought
their nest, where the little widow
found them bill to bill, the scarlet
ankle-ties hidden beneath tho straw.
Six times she dislodged them; six
times they reinstated themselves and
now at noon there they sat brooding
over the pile of bricks she had heaped
in their nest, winking their small,
round eyes at her III lazy triumph! 1t
was too much! Was IN immortal wo-
man to he Outwitted by Il couple of
finite hens! The little woman re-
ncwed the conflict, but not DARN.
again to lay hands upon the belligerent
bjpeds, she reSorte'l to the discreet ex.
pertinent Of poking at them through.
the open window, thus atfurding Mr..
Butterkin. as he rounded the corner, il
confused vision Of agitated calico dane
ing about Il distracted rake handle.
What! setting again, Mrs. Ebbe-
son.
The small lady. till then unconscious
of the gentleman proximity, hastily
withdrew her head from the window
and looked down III some confusion
from her perch Oh IN inverted barrel.
Ies, they re setting again; but it s
just as we'll just exactly as WE'LL" she
said, rather incohercntly. narrowed hy
the fear lest she were displaying her
ankles.
"Now. sir. we mus, sec about this. -
responded Mr.. Butterkin, fishing in
his pocket for Il ball of twinc he had
bought that morning for stringing
tomatoes, and meanwhile glancing over
his shoulder, apparently to assure him.
self that the orchard was where it
should iP. liz would have liked moth
in. better than to lift the widow down.
but his instinct told hin, that she
would prefer to DESCEND 10y herself.
mObsrrved. and he WAS Il man capable
of sclf-sacriticc. "Wc'll tie the hens
to the fence" he added presently. con.
scious Of a thrill of deli yht. as he pro-
no'Uccd the "wc.'
He knew himself better than in the
early morning. and could not disguise
the fact that he felt a personal salts
faction in entering into even the hum
blest partnership with Mrs. Ebbeson
IA satisfaction evidently not shared
by the Brallmas, who resenting his
continued interference. tore his coat
mercilessly. It was a Jagged rent.
from pocket to hem, in his Sunday gar
ment, too, which III Roxanna's time,
had never gone to the village Oh Il
week day; but who was there now to
watch over Mr.. Butterkin's apparel !!
Not Mr.. Butterkin. surely, to whom
the distinctions Of dress were but as
sounding brass and tinkling cymhal.
What Il wicked, wicked shame!"
cried Mrs. Ebbeson. in distress. But
III darn it just us we'll as can.
No. no, thank you, it's of no con.
sequence, replied Mr.. Buttcrkin,
with manly Indifference.
But Esther can't mend broad
cloth.
'Can't! You don't say So!
lmbued with the masculine super.
Stitlon that incapacity with the needle
betokens idiocy, Mr.. Buttcrkin looked
aglast.
No; she's young. you know, and
not used to sewing. Besides. I'm res.
ponsihlc for this rent. Let me attend
to 1t, please.
He removed the garment without a
word, his face flushing like moose-ber-
ries in autumn. Not ut the thought
that since Esther was incapable, he
must be indebted to the widow for
past favors with the needle-indeed.
he would have unbluslingly declared
this was the first occasion since Rox-
annas deceasc that garment of his
had needed repair--but he felt u re-
luctance to being dependent upon Ruth
for q mcnial service, when it was now
the growing desire of his heart that
she should lean upon him.
Seeing him color, Mrs. Ebbeson, out
of sympathy, colored too, and such /,
vivid and lasting crimson that her
mother at dinner mildly chidcd her for
going out without her bonnet.
Busy over his coat that afternoon.
Ruth naturally thought of Mr.. But-
terkin while he, Weedin. the late tur.