St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-07-01
A Slice of Bread and Butter.


ed Miss Lorinda Cross (''cross by name
and cross by nature" the children-yes,
and many of the grown-ups-of the
neighbOrhoOd declared her,) as she
pounced upon the huge loaf of bread
which she had taken from the oven
and put into the big stone crock only
half an hour ago, just before she turned
her straight-up-and- down back on the
kitchen, to stalk to the garret after
''that idle hussy, Molly"-the maid-Of-
all-work k-''whO had been twice as
long as she ought to have been making
the beds there"
| said the huge loaf | should have
said half the huge loaf, for only that
portion of the newly baked bread re-
mained.
"Dor-o-thy Wal-dO-o-O ~ again
screamed Miss Cross, in an ascending
scale, with an OminOus tremOlO on the
last note.
eyes, aunt" replied sweet, fresh
young voice and pretty young girl
came in from the garden, with basket
of cherry-red currants i'll her hand.
A tiny thing she was, with round,
dimpled, rosy face, innocent, child-like
blue-gra eyes, and fair hair, some
short tresses of which had escaped
from the braid into which they had
been bound, and were making delight
ful use of their freedom by curling i'll
the most charming manner about the
low, frank brow and little pink-tipped
ears.
About "sweet sixteen" stranger
would have pronounced her but Dol
| 1 -, f,,I Il,
to the disgust of her aunt LOrinda,
called her, was older than that by Il
year and half.
An orphan at the age of twelve, she
had been left to the care of the only
relative she knew, her mothers elder
sister-a woman hard in speech and
manners, and anything but soft III
heart. This maiden lady sourcd IRE
vocably on her twenty fourth birthday
which should have also been her wed
ding day but at the very moment she
was fastening the orange blossoms IL
her hair, had come the news that hel
betrothed had elOped with the girl
friend she had chosen for her brides
maid. Lorinda tore the bridal wreatl
into fragments, and scattered it to the
winds never mentioned the false pail
from that hour, banished forever III
the tenderness she had ever possessed
(truth to tell, she had never pOssesse,
much and became the hardest wOrlle
of her sex that ever worked upon !
farm. In mans boots, coat, and hat
early and late, hot or cold, wet OF dry
with set mouth, lowering brow, and 81
lent lips, she tOiled side by side will
her sturdy old father, until the day IN
; was struck down by the pitiless sun
and died Il few hours after-died jus
i'll time to be saved the pang of hear
ing that his youngest and favorit
daughter was lying ut the point o
death, widowed and friendless, i'll
r far-away city. LOrinda buried he
. father-if she wept for him, none say
her-promOted man who had bee
long in his employment to the position
she used to occupy, and started for he
sisters bedside. When she returne
to Fernville again, she brought dea
little fair-haired, soft-eyed DOrOth
I with her, and some of her neighbor
fancied that since that time she ha
, been shade less stern but if she ha
been, it was so slight IA shade that
was almost impossible to perceive ii
. True, she did less Out-Of-doOr work
a and devoted part of the time thu
saved to teaching her niece to sew an
cook and churn, and other like accom-
plishments but never were the les
sons accompanied by an approvin
: smile or kindly word, much less a loI
ing kiss. Even to the gentle, winnin
child, Lorinda Cross remained colo
stern woman. But Dorothy, God bles
y her was so sunny in disposition til;
|, the stern ways and dark face of he
4 aunt could not cloud her young lifi
and though shut out from that infieX
BILE woman's heart, she found the dOOl
G of all other hearts wide open to he
If The dogs, the eats, the hens, the chicl
s ems, the horses, the cows, the calve
, the very geese, regarded her with adj
= ration. The farm labOrers blessed h'
/ pretty face whenever she came anon
l. them and as for Molly-pOor har,
worked Molly she would have kisse
Il the ground the little feet trOd upon.
What wonder, then, that Dan How
W ell, the young surveyor, who live
s. half mile away, in the old stone co
n tage, and whom she had known fro
>. the very first day of her arrival
- Fernville (when he, then tall, brigh
e. faced boy of fifteen, passing her aunt
he gate, and seeing the sad-loOking lit
al girl, in her black dress, standing by
70 silently offered her the prettiest viii
rabbit she had ever seen-a rabbit
'r had been coaxing Abner Brown for
'e month past to sell him, and which no
e, he parted with without anoth
= !. thought, at sight of those lovely tearf
eyes and that sweet wistful face )-wh
Us wonder, say, that he ''thought of h
D. by day, and dreamed of her by night
is But to go back. Dorothy came SIN
he ing into the kitchen, her lips al
q cheeks as red as the currants she ca
ried but the smile faded away VIII
re she met her aunt's irate gaze.
st "Did you cut this loaf, and tn
nd leave it here in this hot room to dry
of a chipqr demanded Miss Cross; a
then she added, emphatically, witho
waiting for an answer: "But of cOuI
'es you did. No one else would ha
til dared to do it. And how dared 81
tv knowing that | never allow bread
"a be cut in my house until it is at leas
n'i day old ?"
en- 81 am very sorry, aunt" began ID
ir- ly "but he looked so hungry ~