Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1882-05-18

into an agreement never to clean house
after we are marriedp / have a horror
of house cleaning"
Mr.. MeTrion sealed up his letter, in
wardly bewailing himself over the big
blot he had dropped, like an inky tear,
on the words, "Yours truly"
"But it's bad luck to write thing
of that kind twice over," he said TO
himself, superscribing the letter, "AIrs
Cora Tyson" and placing it where her
eye would be certain to light upon it
the first thing.
And then he took his departure.
1t was quite dusk when Mrs. Tyson
came in, half an hour afterward, and
the servant-maid was lighting the hall
gas.
"Please, ma'am, there's a gentleman
in the sitting-rOOm to see you," said
the lass, as Mrs. Tyson entered.
"Who is itP' asked the widow.
But the lassie of the blue ribbons
did not know, and when Mrs. Tyson
entered the room, nobody was there
but puss and the plants.
"He must have gone away, ma'am,"
said the servant-maid.
Hell come again, l dare say, if he
wants TO see me very much" said the
widow, and, quite unconscious of the
billetdoux awaiting her glance, she
tumbled all the papers together into
the portfolio, and put it on the top
shelf of the library.
"Kitty," she said to the servant,
come and help me clear away all
these things. Mrs. Flanagan is coming
early tomorrow morning to clean
house, and we must be ready for her"
Hapless John Merrion! Here was
he shadow of house cleaning once
again darkly brooding over his lifel
Mrs. Tyson came to Mrs Grimshaw's
to tea, the next evening, looking very
hewitching in her shining black silk
dress and hair to match, with cherry
checks and velvety-brown eyes. Mer-
rion's brow frightened as he walked
gp to her. Did she blushp He thought
she DID, q little-hut she put out her
little hand quite unconcernedly. What
excellent actresses these women are!
Don't you think it's a pleasant
EVENING" said Mr.. Merrien, with fate
trembling on the tip of his tongue.
mo, | dyn't," answered the widow,
lifting her long eyelashes. "I think
we shall have rain; and I'm sorry, for
we have just commenced house clean
ingp
Mr.. Merrion dropped the little hand
as suddenly as if his own had been
stricken by palsy! Mrs. Tyson's
answer had killed the two birds of his
hearts hope with one stonel He had
got his quietus, and he might as well
go about his business at once!
They're all alike" pondered our hero
moodily. "They would any one of
them immediate mans heart upon the
point Of a carpet tack, or submerge
his soul in Il pail of whitewash, and
think they had accomplished the whole
duty Of woman. And the worst of all
is, that Mrs. Tyson never looked as
pretty in her life as she does tonight"
Mr.. Merrion went up stairs to pack
his valise for journey to the south;
he felt that he could not endure the
possibility of seeing Mrs. Tyson, per-
hap5 daily. Like the delicious pink
checked apricot that hangs on the
sunny wall just beyond the school.boy's
reach, the pretty widow became preci.
GUS in his eyes in proportion as she be-
came inaccessible.
Cora Tyson cried little when she
heard that Mr.. Merrion was gone.
House cleaning is not elevating to the
spirits, particularly in damp weather,
and Mrs. Tyson had an idea-wo-
men do pick up strange whimsies- that
Mr Merrion was beginning to be fond
of her.
at serves me right for being so re-
diculOus," she said, dashing away
a bright drop from her cheeks. I'm
| nulC llc . llO' IlllS W Lit,
And Mrs. Tyson tied pocket hand
kerchief round her head, shouldered a
gigantic feather duster, and climbed up
"A tall step.ladder to dust the books on
the library shelves before the ubiquitous
Flanagan should pervade the room with
scrubbing brushes and mop.
"Here's my PORTFOLIO" said Mrs. Ty.
son, seating herself on the top step
and mechanically opening it; "and here
is-my goodness mel!
For she saw Mr.. Merrion's ill-fated
love-letter for the first time, and her
heart gave a little spasmodic futter be.
hind the handle of the feather duster.
She was sitting there, in a position
elevated rather than romantic, her
back hair lied up behind pocket
handkerchief, and her flushed cheek
resting on one hand, while with the
other she held the letter, when Kate
the maid opened the door to a guest.
"Sure it is here she is," said Kate
And MIR. MerriOn, walking in, beheld
Mrs. Tyson in the act of reading his
own love-letter.
Cora jumped up, and then sat down
again; dropped the feather duster, but
held tight on to the letter, while the
roses blossomed redly out on her
cheeks.
Mr.. Merrion had been south, but he
had discovered that southern atmos.
phere was no medicine to mind dis.
eased. And he had come back to try
his fate over again at most auspicious
moment, as it seemed.
"Well," said Mr.. Merrion, glancing
at the letter, 'do you think you can get
along with grum old bachelor like
meP"
81 shall try, at all events" said Cora
demurely.
"Why didn't you say so beforep"
asked Merrion reproachfully.
because you never asked me-"
al wrote that letter a week ago."
"But l never saw it until this
momentv
"Ahl" said Mr.. Merrion, a little
bitterly. al might have known better
than to propose in house cleaning
timer
"You ungrateful wretchp said Cora,
| with a smile that tOok off the aiino