The Penn's Grove record., 1883-12-01

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their neighbors; and that was saying a
good deal of two single women in a
New England country town. Still this
religious element in their natures could
hardly have been termed spirituality.
Ii deviated from that as much as any
thing OF religion-which is in n way
spirituality itself-could.
Both sisters were eminently practical
in all affairs of life, down to their very
dreams, and Priscilla especially so.
She had dealt in religion with the bare
facts of sin and repentance, future
punishment and reward. She had
dwelt very little, probably, upon the
poetic splendors of the Eternal City
and talked about them still less. In
deed, she had always been reticent
about her religious convictions, and
had said very little about them even to
her sister.
The two women, with God in their
thoughts every moment, seldom had
spoken His name to each other. For
Priscilla to talk in the strain that she
had to-day, and for a week or two pre-
vious, off and on. was, from its extreme
deviation from her usual custom, Ger
tainly startling.
Poor Mary, sobbing over the potato
barrel, thought it was a sign of APP
preaching death. She had a few super
s~titious-like CRAFTS upon her practical,
commonplace character.
She wiped her eyes finally, and went
upstairs with her tin basin of potatoes,
which were carefully washed and put
to soak by the time her sister came in
with the empty basket.
AT twelve exactly the two sat down
to dinner in the clean kitchen. which
was n of the two rooms the cottage
boosted. The narrow entry ran from
the front door to the back. On one side
was the kitchen and living-room; on the
other, the room where the sisters slept.
There were two small unfinished lofts
overhead, reached by a step-ladder
through a little scuttle in the entry
ceiling, and that was all besides. The
sisters had earned the cottage and paid
for it years before, by working as tall
dresses. They had quite "A snug sum
in the bank besides, which they had
saved out of their hard earnings. There
was no need for Priscilla and Mary to
work so hard, people said, but work
lard they did, and work hard they
would as long as they lived. The mere
habit of work had become as necessary
to them as breathing.
Just as soon as they had finished their
meal and cleared away the dishes they
put on some clean starched purple
prints, which were their afternoon
dresses, and seated themselves at the
two front windows with their work ;the
house faced southwest, Sc the sunlight
streamed through both. 1t was a very
warm day for the season, and the win
dows were open. In the yard outside
great clumps of lilac stood close to both.
They grew ON the other side of the
front door, too; a little later the low
cottage would look half buried in them.
The shadows of their leaves made a
dancing network over the freshly
yellow floor.
The two sisters sat there and sewed
on some coarse vests all the afternoon.
Neither made a remark often
The room, with its glossy little cook
ing.stoye, its eight-day clock on the
mantel, its chintz-cushioned rocking
chairs, and the dancing shadows of the
lilac leaves on its yellow floor, looked
pleasant and peaceful.
Just before six O'Clock a neighbor
dropped in with her cream pitcher to
borrow some milk for tea, and she sat
down for a minutes chat after she had
got it filled. They had been talking a
few moments on neighborhood topics,
when all of a sudden Priscilla let her
work fall and raised her hand. "HushI'
whispered she.
The other two stopped talking, and
listened, staring at her wonderingly,
but they could hear nothing. y
what is it, Miss Priscilla?' sked
the neighbor, with round blu .eyes.
She was a pretty young thing, who had
not been married long. ID
"Hushl Don't speak. Don't you
hear that beautiful music?" Her ear
was inclined toward the open window,
her hand still raised warningly, and her
eyes fixed ON the opposite wall beyond
them. s1 ~r
Mary turned visibly paler than her
usual dull ~paleness, and ~shuddered. ~
don't hear any music" she said. "Do
you Miss Moorelo
Moo" replied the caller, her sim
pie little face beginning to put on a
scared look, from a vague sense of a
mystery she eoald not fathom.
Mary Brown rose and went TO the
door, and looked eagerly up and down
the ftreet. There amt nc orgali-man
in sight ANYWHERE said she returning,
AM can't here any music, an Miss
Moore can't am we're<both sharp
enough o. hearin'. You're jist imagin-
~ 80 cisfar - -
81 never imagined anything in my
life, returned the other, IAN it amt
likely I'm goin' to begin now. It's the
beautifulest music. 1t comes from over
the orchard there. Can't you hear it?
But it seems to me it's growin' a little
fainter like now. l guess it's movin'
of, perhaps.
Mary Brown set her lips hard. The
grief and anxiety she had felt lately
turned suddenly to unreasoning anger
against the cause of it; through her
very love she fired with quick wrath at
the beloved object. Still she did not
say much, only: II guess it must he
movin' off, !" with a laugh, which had
unpleasant ring in 1t.
After the neighbor had gone, howev-
er, she said more, standing before her
sister with her arms folded squarely
across her bosom. snow, Priscilla
Brown" she exclaimed, Il think it's
about time to put a stop to this. I've
heard about enough of it. What do
you s'pose Miss Moore thought of you?
Next thing it'll be all over town that
you're gettin' spiritual notions. To-
day it's music that nobody else a
hear, am yesterday you smelled roses,
and there amt one in blossom this time
o'year, and all the time you're talkin'
about dyin'. Fer my part, l don't see
why you amt as likely to live as | am.
You're uncommon hearty ON vittl S.
You ate pretty good dinner to-da
for a dyin' person."
Il didn't say l was goin' to die" re-
piled Priscilla, meekly; the two sisters
seemed suddenly to have changed ma
lures. AN III try not to talk soft it
plaques you. | told you | wouldn't this
mLrDini. but the music kinder took me