Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1881-04-04
Wife or Slave.

usual !" grunted Farmer Brewster as he
threw himself into the rocking chair in
the kitchen and famed his flushed face
with his straw hat. IA quarter of an
hour wasted, very likely, waiting here.
Right in the midst of as fine hay-day
as man would wish to see. Now, my
mother used to have her lunch ready to
the minute whenever We came for it. and
l don't see why"
His jeremiade was checked by the
appearance of his wife, who came out of
the pantry tugging along the great lunch
basket, almost too heavy for her
strength.
Farmer Brewster was young man,
in spite Of his grumbling. Only twenty
three, tall, straight, healthy, with blue
eyes, rosy cheeks, fair curly hair-and
handsome face when it was not darken-
ed, as now by seowl of discomfort.
An only son. he had inherited large
and handsome farm, clear of mortgage
and debt, which supplied all the wants
of his household most literally and gave
him a nice little sum of money to depos-
it in bank each year.
There was no reason why he should
be "near" and yet miserly habits were
gradually growing upon him far faster
than he knew.
Nor was there need of grumbling over
the household arrangements, since the
wife of his choice was farmers daugh-
ter, who knew we'll how to work, and
who had taken delight in setting her
home in faultless order when first she
came, as bride, to the pleasant Brews-
ter place.
The same order reigned still, from
garret to cellar of the square old house
but Mrs. Brewster went through her
tasks mechanically now, or with ner-
vous haste and hurry that made them
almost unendurable sometimes.
The constant drop of water will wear
away a stone and the constant fault
finding in which her husband saw fit to
indulge had nearly worn the patience,
the hope and the endurance out of the
young wife's heart.
The comfort and happiness of that
home hung upon thread. which frayed
more and more hour by hour under the
pain of unmerited blame.
Yet George Brewster saw nothing of
this until the morning of which | write.
There is the lunch and it is exactly
five minutes past ten," said Mrs. Brews-
ter, setting the basket down with some
emphasis at his feet. IL was DELAYED
that much with the butter. 1t had to
be seen to before the sun got too high"
"My mother always churned before
breakfast" observed George, rising
slowly to his feet.
His wife said nothing, but the color
rose hotly in her cheeks till the lost
bloom of her grilhood seemed to have
come back again, and she raised her
eyes to his with a look that startled him.
Very handsome eyes they were-dark.
soft and velvety, with world of love
and tenderness in their depth.
Yet now they met his own coldly and
sternly, with such an expression that
he exclaimed:
Good gracious Lefty. You look as
if you hated mel
''I'm afraid do was the astound-
ing reply.
And with swift glance at the clock,
Lefty hurried down into the cellar with
a knife and pan to make her prepa-
rations for dinner for six hungry hay
makers.
"Afraid she hates me My wife She
that was Lefty Glover p muttered he to
himself in his bewilderment. "Why,
what on earth! She must be going crazy
or something or other.'
"Letty !" he called at the cellar door.
"lt is ten minutes past ten.' she an
swered from the depths of the cellar.
"If | don't see about the dinner now it
won't be on the table at twelve to the
minute, as your mother used to have it.
| can't come"
"Well, if this don't beat all l'' said
he to the maltese and white cat who as
cended from the cellar and rubbed her.
self against his legs.
A shout from the hay field reused
him to the recollection of the days
business.
He went out and dispensed the treas.
ures of his basket among the hungry
men, who praised Letty's excellent
cooking with every mouthful they swal
lowed.
alt is enough to make an old bache
lor like me sit down and cry to eat such
raspberry shortcakes as that" said Sol
omon Wyse, wiping the crumbs of the
feast from his lips before be drank hare
cider from the jug. ''Tell you what il
is, George, you drew a prize when yor
went courting."
, $50 he did And here's her gooe
health, chimed in another mower. as ht