The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1881-08-02
THE HIDDEN MONEY.


TT was the third of May, brilliant
L spring day, with the jonquills and
datlodils all in blossom, the great white
peonies, bursting like balls Of snow
through their green calyxes, and the
grass on the upland pastures as soft and
dellcately-tinted as velvet; and even
poor Mrs. Crofton, wearied and over
worked though she was, felt something
of the sweet spring influences pass into
her soul as she stood on the door sill,
buttering bake. pan for the Saturday
loaf of raisin. cake.
sits lovely day - said Mrs. Crofton.
"And somehow the smell o. them daffy-
downdillies reminds me of when l was
girl. Dear, dear how time flies, to be-
sure But there's touch of chill In the
air, all the same; and doubt if it's safe
for Uncle Malachi to sit out much
longer.
Aud she went bake-pan and all,
around the corner of the house, to the
paved space in front of the south wing,
where, in wooden armchair, sat a lit
with one sided wig pulled over his left
eye, patch work covered pillow at his
back, and wooden blanket wrapped
around him.
"You'd better let me wheel you in,
Uncle Malachi, said she listlessly. It's
getting sorto' chilly, as the sun shifts
around to the other side of the house;
and you've been out here good hour"
81 won't go in :" said Uncle Malachi,
pettishly. ITS pleasant here, and I'm
peaceable and content. It's the strangest
thing ever saw that people can't be
satisfied to let me alone Miles Larkins'
son was by here not ten minutes ago,
chattering and cracking about the
weather. What business of his is the
weather. And why the old cat can't he
let me alone? Does he s'pose / don't
know he's after the little bit of money
may leave? Bah !" with movement
of disgust 81 can tell em all they won't
get a cent ofit!"
Mrs. Crofton's dim eyes lighted up
with gleam of excitement.
"Uncle Malachi" said she, chow
much money have you got, anyhow"
The old man screwed up his with
cred features, like an attenuated mon
key.
"Ah-h.hl" said he "don't you wish
you knew? But you don't know. No,
nor you won't! P'raps it's fifty cents
p'raps it's fifty dollars. Anyhow it's
nobody's business but mine Nettie
will have it. L shall tell Nettie where
it is, some day. But not yet-no, no,
not yet!'
won't you let me wheel your chair
in, Uncle Malachi 7" persisted Mrs.
Crofton.
mo" snarled the old man. 81
WON'T"
Mrs. Crofton was quite used to this
sort of rebuff, and took no notice of it;
she only went back to her kitchen, with
II sigh.
Ten years ago, she and her husband
had given up their homestead to come
and take care of Uncle Malachi Miller,
who was supposed then to be dying of
old age.
:" Whatever have will be yours when
I'm gone,'' said the old man; land it
won't be long-it won't be long!"
But Uncle Malachi's words proved
incorrect. The years passed by. Mrs.
Crotton wore herself out in taking care
of him; Mr.. Crofton grew bent and old
trvino to Grind n iiyinr ont Of tl,a etOn1y
fields and melancholy swamps of the
Miller farm; and Nettie, the tall, bloom
ing daughter, attempted to eke out the
family funds by her slender salary as
school teacher; and Uncle Malachi sat
on the old stone pavement in the sun
shine, muttering to himself, and SEEM
ing to take no heed of the outer world.
When Mr.. Crofton came in to get his
dinner he went for Uucle Malachi.
He's been settin' out there long
enough, - said he he's dreadful trial, /,
but we mustn't let him get the rheuma-
tiz.n
But when they went together to the
sunny stone paved yard, the old man
sat there, quite dead, with his glazed
eyes stareing straight before him and
his jaw dropped on his breast.
Dead, ELI ?'' the neighbors comment
ed in chorus. 9 Well, l s'pose you'll
come into the property now, Mrs. Crof-
toni?
81 suppose we should" said Mrs.
Crofton feebly; only. nobody knows
where it is."