Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1882-04-19

Il
"Thats where they're right" sale
Prudence, "You are rather given Il
high.aying notions, and It's time yo'
found out that bread don't grow read,
buttered, Yes, did know one girl
who was pretty smart aud had no en'
of chances to got married, Il think m,
David courted her spell, but he ncvel
would own iD, and she would have
that shiitless eritter, Joe Raymond
who never could make one hand wasl
The other. Even when she was a-dyins
she pretended she had been happy and
wouldn't have done any other way Il
she had II to do over again"
"Was she our Joc's motheri" asked
Dora quickly,
ayes, to be sure aud when she
died We took him to bring up and work
on the farm. He's more than paid his
way; but he's rolling stone like his
father, aud won't never come to any
thing. forgot to tell you--hc's going
tomorrow.
"Goina Tomorrow I" cried Dora,
with u great start. III thought his
time wasn't out for another month"
"Wcll, it ain't out rightly till he's
q but he was in such hurry to be
of that | gave him the last month";"
Then silence fell upon them.
These two women had the same
father and mother, though score OF
years lay between them. Prudence had
been born in the early married life OF
her parents, when they were strug-
Cling with II stony heart New England
farm where there was work for even
baby hands. The lines of duty and
patience were decp-gravcd in her rug
gcd face which yet beamcd with II
kindly common sense. But Dora had
come to her mother late in life, as IN
old tree sometimes blossoms into love-
illness after every one has forgotten it.
Her little feet had walked in easy paths
and Prudence yearned over her like q
mother.
She sat now by the open fire, bend
ing her graceful head over some deli
cate work that Prudence would never
have found time for; her red dress and
the Pickering freight made her pic
ture too lovely for that dull room.
"Prudcncc," she said suddenly, Gas
this is Joe's last night, think I'll go
down and say goodbye to him."
"You might call him up here"
"No 1 think will 60 myself"
II believe l haven't ever told you,
Dora, how much you pleased me by
giving up that childish way of going on
with him that you used to have. 1t
did very we'll for you to be fond of each
other when you you were little, but of
course it is out Of the question now."
1t might have been the red dress and
the freight that brought such a vivid
flush to Dora's check as she listened
and turned away. She ran lightly
down stairs and opened the door of the
great farm-kitchen.
A young man sat by the dull fire
looking into it as one looks into the
eyes of an enemy before the fght-an
overgrown faamer-boy, in homemade
clothes, with nothing about him to fall
in love with, least of all for the bril-
liant little figure that stood waiting for
him to look up. He was too intent on
his own thoughts to notice her until she
went swiftly across the room, and
taking his head between her soft hands
turned his face up to hers. ''Joe, bad
boy, were you going away without let
ting me know?"
The hard lines on his face softened
and frightened under her gaze till one
would not have known him for the
same man. 81 thought l should not
see you tonight" he said.
"You know better; you know l
would have crept through the key-hole
for one last minute with you.
"How long will you wait for me,
Dora?"
"Till you come back"
"If it were seven years, think how
long it would be-"
eff you loved me as you make be-
lieve," said Dora, "You would not 60
away at all, but stay here till you could
build little house, and then we would
rough it together"
"No, little Dora, that is not my
kind of love ; my mother tried that and
she lived slaves life."
81 must go now, l must truly" said
Dora, as she felt herself locked in arms
that would not give way. "If 1 live
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