Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1883-12-01
The Wrong Man.
A THANKSGIVING STORY FOR THE
INDEPENDENT.
BY B. 5. Q.


trees rustling drearily. Up the ave-
nue. leading to a fine old country
house, man walked rapidly, look
ing about him with keenly obser-
want eyes, as one does to whom the
familiar aspect of his native land has
long been absent from his sight.
The shutters of the front windows
were all thrown open, and from one,
as he stepped up into the portico, he
caught the welcome glow of a huge
fire in the chimney
'They are all here, no doubt" he
said to himself as he opened the front
door and walked softly across the
hall. 1t was evident that the place
was familiar to him, but as he clos
ed the door behind him and stood
looking around the large comforta-
BILE room, where the fire burned rud-
Oily upon the hearth and curtains of
thick, old -fashioned crimson bro
cade, shrouded the windows on eth
er side, he caught his breath with a
quick, convulsive effort and his face
grew pale in spite of the bronze hue
foreign suns had left there. Some
ghost from the past, perhaps, had
arisen to confront him upon the
threshold of the familiar, well-re-
membered room, where his Grant
footsteps had led him. But he mas
tered the memory, whatever it was,
and went over to the fire. Standing
there he heard muffled sounds
voices, faint and understandable sub
dued CHATTER of dishes. and he even
fancied that he scented the appetite
ing odor of our national bird, which
he was sure, from past experiences
of the most personal nature, graced,
in gigantic proportions, the Thanks
giving board of this patriotic family.
IF / were to walk right in upon
them. what would they do and say.
/ wonder ?" But he had no time to
put his half considered thought into
execution, for a door across the hall
Changed and forthwith wave of
merry voices and tripping footsteps
inundated the silence. The surpriser
was never nearer being the surpris-
ed. In his irresolution he darted for
refuge behind the curtains Of a win
dow, looking out upon remote COR
ner of the kitchen yard. All OF them
were very young girls. No, upon
closer observation, we find one past
the first youth, and while the others
gathered around the blaze, she threw
herself in an easy chair in front of
the fender and from some covert of
her graceful feminine draperies, drew
cob webby square of cambria and
lace and made feint of shielding
her face with it from the blaze.
Fortunately for the travellers
chances for observation, the nearest
window and the one to which he had
instinctively fed, was beyond the
chimney alcove, so that the whole
party of six merry young girls, and
the lady in the easy chair were di-
rectly within bis range vision.
Tell us story, aunt Ray do,
while the old folks finish their cof-
fee
''lsn't it just jolly that when we
young ones get excused, auntie
does too ?"
That is he advantage of being
'papa's youngest sister,"
"And our dearest pet auntie !" in
terrupted another, flashing loving
glance back at the face behind the
handkerchief, which was a rarely
sweet and lovable one, even when
compared with all those other fresh
and pretty ones surrounding the fire.
"Those pretty Morris girls" was the
distinguishing epithet by which they
were know in the country side. "A
homely Morris is as rare as black
swami Grandma would say, looking
around complacently upon her grand
children and bridling iDnocently.
She bore traces of the family inheri-
lance herself, though stiffened and
much bent by rheumatism. "There
were but two of all my children who
were denied their birthright of beau
ty, and thank heaven, they were
boys! !"
But aunt Ray was not Morris,
haiup ssPanais vounoast sister - and