Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1882-05-11
WIDOW AppLEDoRE's ROMANCE,
By ELIZABETH CUMMINGS.

mint oil an the price Of wheat! No! En-
ma Jane; my life has been humd,um enough
without my ending it with Deacon Bliss.
shan't have himl"~
We'll, we'll, Rosetta, il you won't, Idont
knows anybody goin' ter try al make you,
chirped plump, rosy Mrs. Phlox, looking
up from the stout, blue woolen,sock she was
knitting. dispose the deacon thought he'd
"a right to ask you, seem it's free country.
Caleb Appledore was an awful nice man,
but SOS the deacon. Lone wimmen are put
on. Job Whittamore neglects your gard.
ing, an just see what work you have with
YOUR fires an keepin' roads broke out.
I'm not going to marry just to have some
one to tend the garden and do the chores,
said Mrs. Appledore. i've never found
fault with them that's dead and gone, but
/ know what it Is to live with a person who
does not care two pins for the things do,
and if ever do marry again it will be some
one who can sympathize with me. / can't
sayI swallow all 'Lias Bradshaw says about
the marryin' Of souls and atfnities, but
there is some truth in it you may depend.
Besides, I'd like little romance in my
life before die"
Romance is all we'll 'nough," said Mrs.
PhloS, but you're thirty nine next March,
Rosetta, an sech man as Deacon Bliss
don't grow on every bush. Bein' a good
provider, an q splendid farmer, an
deacon, an pillar in the church may not
be romantic, but they're good recommends
in man you're thinkin' Of marryin'. ]
hope you'll think twice."
Deacon" said Mrs. Appledore, decisively;
AN if that's being romantic, I'm not
ashamed of it"
The little widow did not look romantic.
Her complexion was dull white, and her
hair was dull brown. Dull, too, were her
large gray eyes that blinked behind short
sighted glasses, but her form. though mea-
gre and devoid of curve, was not without
grace, and she had q clear, sweet soprano
voice which, though it was unframed,
she could use with taste and feeling.
TRg n the DS hso mystical S4 al
their committees, and relied upon her to
sing all the solos. Indeed, without her
it could not have existed. The wheezy
melodeon, which was a dozen years old
before it became the property of the So
ciety, had at last collapsed under the en-
ergeic fingers of Professor jackson Jones,
who did the accompanying, and they were
trying to buy piano. They had given
concerts and had oyster
suppers till Dixvllle was tired, when DR..
Ollapod suggested lecture. 1t was whis-
pered that the Doctor had expected the
COMMITTEES 10 invite him to read one of
his papers on the Semitic tongues; but
il he did he was disappointed.
They corresponded with many popular
lecturers, who all declined to visit Dixville
on the plea of engagements, and the COM
mittee at last invited certain Professor st.
Clair Smith, about whom they knew moth
ing save that he had lectured in the neigh
boring villages with acceptance, to address
them. The professor had suddenly appear
ed In Dixville mounted on a fine gray horse.
The next day he was seen to enter the post
Office with green bag on his arm, and the
gossips Immediately reported that he was
wealthy and had come from Boston. He
at once accepted the invitation of the Har-
monicum Committee, and announced that
his lecture would be on the Philosophy
of Art. The meeting house was hired, and
Mrs. Appledors with select few began
practicing some music for the occasion.
1t was the afternoon before the lecture,
and Mrs. Appledore had invited her sister
to spend the day with her. Domestic du-
ties seems to be just what Mrs. Phlox was
made for. Her husband and sister usually
did all her thinking. In return she served
that did Creep into her round head she
chung to pertinaciously.
The worst kind Of q fool is beetle
headed one," she said, after a long pause,
AN putting this an that together,
Rosetta, think you're preparing with
your romancing to be just that kind of q
one."
81 don't see why sisters can be so I'M
like, and Mrs. Appledore drummed harsh
accompaniment to her words on the mid
die g Of her piano. "To be sure, you are
the oldest; but age need not make ones
soul clod."
at would be well for you to remember
that all the advantages are not On your
side, cried Mrs. Phlox. rising with digni-
~. There are bodies, yes, and dis
positions that are cleds," and Mrs.
Phlox ierkee on her calash and went
home.
The meeting house was full, and the
next day the Dixville Times declared the
lecture to have been most soulful and
eloquent dissertation, but Mrs. Appledore's
attention wandered, and she only knew
cluded by DR.. Ollapod's soIorous call fol
"moosic."
Il am delighted" said Professor St.
Clair Smith, bowling low before her as soon
as possible after the "moosic, 81 never
heard such delicious voice."
Mrs. Appledore coughed behind her hand
to conceal her fattered embarrassment, and
turned q questioning look on Professor
jackson Jones, who stood near.
you always sing splendid" said that
gentleman, drawing himself up. Il dare
say put you out. That flute obligato is 9
deuced hard thing to do. didn't do my.
self justice tonight"
You've always dragged, said Karl Leo
pold, who took every opportunity to crit.
else the Harmonicum doings.
Professor jackson Jones pulled at his
cravat, and Mrs. Appledore's face was full
of resentment.
II never heard anything finer in Boston,
said Professor st. Clair Smith, coming to
the rescue, "end suppose you know what
that implies.
The night after the lecture was very
stormy one, and Mrs. Appledore was slowly
twisting her hair in crinping- pins when The
door bell rang. Il could not endure the
loneliness Of the hotel, dear Mrs. Apple.
dore," said Professor st. Clair Smith,
making courtly bow, "and have come to
beg just one song"
The professor was, so far as outline and
color!ng go, o handsome man. His head
was what is commonly called dome shaped.
His wavy hair and silky beard were bright
yellow red, and his rather large e. es were
blue. He sat down in big rocking chair,
and taking twin on each knee, II renew
my youth in Children he cried, giving
them squeeze. "Do you know the song.
The old times we've the best when you and
I were youngY
ooh, yes, said the widow, nervously
turning over her music, abut can't say
that feel SO very old.
Dear me, what blunderer am" cried
the professor. Il was thinking of my boy
hood. I've always hated being grown up.
A man has so much to fetter his imagina-
ton. You must have lost your husband in
the flush Of your youth"
II did," murmured the widow, forget
ting that she was thirty-fve when the event
occurred. "The twins we're Babes"
Song succeeded song till the professor
proposed duets, and Mrs. Appledore en-
joyed the music so much that it was mid
night before she knew it.
Two months passed away. The profess
sor came almost every evening. He had
hired small house a little out of town
that might be undisturbed, he explained,