Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-04-20

4 y
book in despair. Enigmas OF Life!''
[ should think so! [ seized the hoop
skirt, and rushed frantically into the
garden. I would bury it seventy fathoms
deep, if had to dig through to the anti
podes! No one should say that Theo-
philus Blodgett was the man to be con-
quered by an old hoop-skirt, forty spring
double-elliptic though it might be! just
as [ reached the corner of the woodshed.
[ heard silvery voice exclaim:
"Good morning, Mr.. Blodgett!'
Looking around [ deserted, oh, horror !!
tho clergyman OF ST. James, with his
wife and young lady visitor, Miss Juliet
Thornton, coming to call! For the Rev.
Ciggswell and lady [ cared not straw,
but Juliet Thornton had been one OF my
ardent attachments before I engaged my
self to Arabella. In fact, was a long
time Q may say very long time) MAX
ing up my mind which of the two really
preferred; but, on Arabella's remarking
sarcastically one evening, that "scme
people never did know their own minds"
and that "men were all aike-fclle as
the weather II gasped for firmness,
uprooted Juliet from my heart forever,
and made Arabella name the day on the
spot.
However, notwithstanding the up
roofing process, (Which is not always
as thorough as some people imagine, if
there was one person In the world, be-
fore whom I wished to present re-
spectacle figure, il was Juliet Thorn
ton. Arabella might get killed in a
railroad accident. Strange things hap
pened every day. / glared about me
in desperation. There stood heaven
ly ash-barrel right at my elbow. [
breathed an inward thanksgiving, and
hastily examining the hoop-skirt into
! the barrel, joined my visitors at the
front gate.
owe are just in time to make a
tour of your flower garden, Mr.. Blod-
gett," said Juliet beguilingly, 81 do SO
dOte on flowers I" and she gave me a
tender glance, as if to say, Sc have not
forgotten the dollhouse roses and snowy
camehas that a certain individual used to
send mer'
"With all my heart, ladies, this way
and Mr.. Ciggswell, too" and led them
in triumph around the hower-beds. pluck
ing the fairest blossoms of all for Juliet
and Mrs. Ciggswel. 1t is fortunate that
Arabella did not see the solicitude with
which I selected the perfect specimens
The reverend Ciggswell squinted
through his eyeglasses toward the
kitchen fire.
You have-aw-some very fine veg
etaDles, too-aw-Mr. Blodgett, 1 per
ceive. [ am very fond of looking-aw
at a vegetable garden"
[ could have murdered him. The
way to the vegetable patch led directly
past the ash-barrel.
"Oh, yes, dear Mr.. Blodgett, do
show us the vegetables" said Juliet,
=" L do love to see the cunning little
yellow squashes, and the beets and on
ions, and all the other nice things"
There was no help for it. Sitting a
! groan, / conducted them to the desired
place. Weneared the Hateful ash-barrel
Juliet's eyes were cast on the ground,
and l breathed freely as we passed it,
when amlnous sound" tsiss- ss-st -
greeted my ears, and my Mortified eyes
beheld long, ragged rent In Juliet
pink cambria polonaise! That diabol-
ical hoop-skirt-tnat haunting, remorse-
less fend-that "Banquo" that would
not "down had protruded a broken
wire through a chink of the barrel, and
the deed was done! IF Arabella were to
be inundated OH fifty trains, it would
make no difference now! Juliet would
never ssmile on me again. A woman
must be on angel to forgive an irrepara-
BILE injury to new dress.
Of course apologized and of course
she pretended not to care; but certain
freezing dignity crept into her manner
for the remainder of the call, and by the
time we reached the cunning little yell
low squashes her enthusiasm was as
dead as Julius Caesar.
The visitors declined an invitation to
enter the house and rest. Mrs. Ciggs-
well, with an infnitude of pins and an
abundance of sympathy, made temporary
repairs In the pink polonaise, and I
bowed them out of the front gate with
an unwonted chill at my heart.
Looking across the street [ espied a
rag-man's cart standing at the widow
Dickerman's. A wild impulse seized me.
[ snatched the ''fend from the ash
barrel, and as l ran up stairs called out,
"Bridget, run over to Mrs. Dickerman's S,
please, and tell that rag-man to be sure
and stop here
The rag bag always hung by Arabella' s
sewing machine, in the bedroom. Twist
ing the 6 iend +" into the smallest posi-
BILE compass, wrapped and tied it Sc
curely in ragged dish-towel, and pushed
it down, down, down, to the very bot
tom of the bag, No, that wouldn't do
The lowest rags would be sure to crop
out at the top when he emptied the bag.
With Machiavellian cunning I pulled
the fend "up toward the middle. "He
will never discover it till he gets to the
paper mill, % thought I; farewell, ruth
less destroyer of my peace, farewell p
By the time my arrangements we're
completed the Widow Dickerman had
come to the end of her chafering for
halp-pint tin cups and griddle-cak turn
ers, and the cart was at the door. With
a stolid countenance, but throbbing
heart, 1 stood nonchalantly by, while the
peddler weighed and emptied the rags.