News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1882-11-02
THE EBONY CABINET.
By MARY KYLE DALLAS.

By MARY KYLE DALLAS.
Miss Dillingham; was dead, and Miss
Curtis was in tears. She sat up in her
own room sobbing bitterly while the
last sad offices were being performed.
She had good reason to weep, poor
soul, for she had lost her only friend on
earth.
"She died so suddenly, too," thought
the hapless spinster, "that she made no
provision for me. I know she woula
have left me something, and how thank
full should be for even five hundred
dollars year. Here I've had every
thing, and I'm just cast on the world as
helpless as a baby. For years I've just
made her caps, and read aloud to her,
and walked out with her, and driven out
with her, and poured the tea, and made
the buildings, and been like her daugh-
ter and how often she had said: 'Ther-
esa, FL not forget you She knew
what it was to be single herself, but we
neither of us counted on apoplexy. 1
fear she took too much old port and
lived too high. / fear she did-poor
thing-I was SO fond of her.
"Gracious me to think that dreadful
cousin of hers will get it all The
house-an her money, and all the furni-
ture, and the dresses. Everything is
sealed up, and the china, and the orna-
ments That nice cabinet I declare,
when 1 think of that pretty hanging
cabinet! She'd have given it to me.
Why, she meant to give me- legacy.
Why, If could ask her now, she'd say,
Take it, Theresa can hear her good,
old voice. She'll have that, too, for
the lawyer said, If no will was found,
her next of kin would have everything
declare" said Miss Theresa Curtis,
wiping her tears away, 81 mean to have
that cabinet. I'll get it, and it will just
go into one of my trunks. Miss Dill
ingham would say was right, and I'll
do it."
Miss Curtis, having said this, arose
and crept softly down into the dressing
room next the bedroom, where all was
now so still and terrible. She took the
cabinet from its nail, and crept up stairs
and hid it in her trunk, with a feeling
that some one might be at her heels
ready TO call "stop thief" To be sure
she knew well enough that old Miss
Dillingham; would gladly have given |
her the cabinet; that her Cousin
<Iok
the old lady would have preferred
that she should take all she possessed
to giving it to the person of whom she
always spoke distastefully as "that
Sally Spear" But all the same, that
silent creeping over the stairs, past the
door where the watchers sat together
that moment when she laid the cabinet |
in her trunk and covered it with folded |
garments, gave Miss Theresa Curtis a
sense of having been thief. She never
forgot the action, or ceased to fee
ashamed of it.
Time stalked away, using his scythe
as usual. The funeral was over. Search
was made for the will. Mrs. Spear was
declared heiress to all, and Miss Curtis,
who still occupied the house, was mott
fed to leave. Fat Mrs. Spear waddled
about the house and talked of the
changes she would make; and Theresa
Curtis sought carman to convey her
trunks to cheap clearinghouse. She
was five-and-forty, and had lived with
Miss Dillingham; for fifteen years. Her
wages as companion had allowed her to
accumulate few hundred dollars, but
she had had expectations. In her
kind heart she never reproached old
Miss Dillingham; for having left them
unfulfled. And sometimes, as she
trotted about answering advertisements
and failing to please, it occurred to her
that when they met in Heaven they
would have great deal to talk over.
81 know she's sorry she didn't make
a will, " thought poor Theresa; sand
shall tell her just how Sally Spear took
on herself. I'm sure she'll be glad /
hid the cabinet" And vet the deed
troubled her.
At last Theresa found situation as
nursery governess. There were five
children to teach, dress, and walk out |
with. They had been used TO cherry
checked, ight-handed girl, and leased
the serious, middle-aged woman all day
long. Still she bore it, until at last
mamma declared that she had no dis
cipline, and once more she went in
search of an employer.
She found an old lady who wanted a
companion, but, alas some one unlike
good Miss Dillingham; fashionable
old lady who desired to have her hair
dressed in the latest style, and to have
her lap dog curled and combed; who
went to balls presumably to chaperone
her granddaughters, and returned in the
early morning expecting to find her
" companion" wide awake. Dress-mak-
ing, embroidery, and lace making were
required; reading until any hour of the
night when the old lady by chance re-
tired early. And all ended in an igno-
minous reproof and dismissal.
After this school received Miss The
resa in its bosom.
She endeavored to teach the English
branches, and received no salary.
Finally, sheriff appeared on the scene,
and the poor lady fed before him with
her trunks; and so from year to year
i'll luck pursued her, until, in the end,
it occurred to her to Ego out nursing"
Having kind heart and O light step,
she managed to live at this. 1t was a
hard life, but she kept it up for five
years and all this while the cabinet
still remained where she had put it, in
he bottom of her black trunk. 1t was
he yellow one that she carried about
With her; the black one was stored In
he garret-room in which she slept when
lot engaged. Sometimes she looked at
{, and always with shame and contri-
ion SPONTANEOUSLY moral all her life