The Worthington advance., 1882-05-11
WIDOW APPLEDORE'S ROMANCE,
~ EI1zABETH Cus0msoA

mint oil an the price Of wheat! No! En-
ma Jane; my life has been humdlum enough
without my ending it with Deacon Bliss.
shan't have hint"
well, we'll, Rosetta, if you won't. don't
knows any body's goin' tertry an make you,
chirped plump. rosy Mrs. Phlox, looking
up from the stout, blue woolen:sook she was
knitting. Il s'pose the deacon thought bod
= right to ask you, seein' it's q 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 sec what work you have With
your fires nm 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
I know what it Is to live with person who
does not care two pins for the things do,
and II ever do marry again it will be some
one who can sympathize with ne. can't
sayI swallow all 'Lias Bradshaw says about
the marryin' of souls and afinities. but
there is some truth in 1t you may depend.
Besides, I'd like little romance in my
life before I de-"
Romance is all we'll 'ncugh, said Mrs.
Phlox, 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 splendid farmer, an a
deacon, an pillar in the church may not
be romantic, but they're good rscommends
In Z man you're thlnkin' Of marsyin'. !
hope you'll think twice."
4 have thought, and shan't marry the
deacon" said Mrs. Appledore, decisively;
an il 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. vas not without
grace, and she had q clear, sweet soprano
she could use with taste and feeling.
hs nh he 1v lilac mystical ~ 81
tLeir committees. and relied upon her to
sing all the solos, Indeed, without her
it could not have existed. The wheezy
melodeon, which Was q dozen years old
before it became the property Of the 30
ciety, had at last collapsed under the en-
erge.ic fingers Of Professor Jackson Jones,
trying to buy piano. They had given
suppers till Dixvllle was tired, when DR..
Ollapod suggested lecture. It was whis-
pered that the Doctor had expected the
COMMITTEES to invite him to road one of
his papers on the Semitic tongues; but
II he did he was disappointed.
They corresponded with many popular
lecturers, who all declined to visit Dlxvilie
on the plea Of engagements, and the oom-
mittee at last invited certain Professor St.
Clair Smith, about whom they knew moth
ing save that he had lectured in tho neigh
boring villages with acceptance, to address
them. The professor had suddenly appear
ed in Dixville mounted on q 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 como 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 q select few began
practiolng 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. Pnlox was
made for. Her husband and sister usually
did all her thinking. In return she served
them with her hands; but the few notions
that did creeep into her round head she
clung to pertinaciously.
The worst kind Of q fool is q beetle.
headed one," she said, after long pause,
an putting this en- that together,
Rosetta, l think you're preparing with
your romancing to be just that kind of a
one.o
II don't see why sisters can be 80 un-
like, and Mrs. Appledore drummed harsh
accompaniment to her words on the mid.
die G Of her piano. "To be sure, you are
tho oldest; but age need not make one's
soul clod."
ut would be we'll for you to remember
that all tho advantages aro not on your
side, cried Mrs. Phlox, rising with djgni-
". There are bodies, yes, and dis.
positions that nre clods," and Mrs
Phlo1 jerkec on her calash and went
home.
The meeting house was full, and the
lext day the Dixville Tines declared the
lecture to have been q most soulful and
eloquent dissertation, but Mrs. App!edore' 8
attention wandered, and che only knew
oluded by Or. Ollapod's soIorous call for
'moosic."
Il nm delighted" said Professor St.
Clair Smith, bowing low before her az soon
as possible after the "moosic, ""1 never
heard such delicious voice."
Mrs. Appledore coughed behind her hand
to conceal her Aattered embarrassment, and
turned 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 a
deuced hard thing to do. didn't do my
self Justice tonight"
you've always dragged, said Karl Leo
pold, who took every ,portunity to criti.
else the Harmonicum doings.
Professor jackson Jones pulled ct his
cravat, and Mrs. Appledore's face was full
of resentment.
II never heard anything liner in Boston, "
said Professor st. Clair Smith, coming to
the rescue, and I suppose you know what
that implies.
The night after the lecture was q very
stormy one md Mrs. Appledore wes slowly
twisting her hair in crilDping pins when the
door-bell rang. Il could not endure the
loneliness of the hotel, dear Mrs. Apple.
dore, said Professor St. Clair Smith,
mailing courtly bow. "and have come to
beg just one song"
The professor was, 80 far as outline and
color!ng 60, q handsome man. His head
was what is commonly called dome-shaped.
His wavy hair and silky oeard were bright
yellow red, and his rather large es were
blue. He sat down in big rocking chair,
and taking a twin on each knee, IL renew
my youth in Children he cried giving
them sqneeze. "Do you know the song.
The old times we've the best when you and
Iwere youneY"
"Oh, yes" said the widow, nervously
turning over her music, "but 1 can't say
that Ifeel so very DID,"
Dear me, what bluuderer am, cried
the professor. Il was thinking of nv boy.
hood. I've always hated being grown up.
man has 50 much to fetter bis imagina.
ton: You must have lost your husband in
the flush Of your youth"
did," murmured the widow, forget
ting that she was thirty i've when the event
occurred. The twins were 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 profes.
sor came almost every evening. He had
hired small house little out Of town
that he might be undisturbea, he explained.
and relative had come to keep house for