Milford chronicle., 1883-03-09
B A r r Y.

Miss Abigail Burr was a little brown
old maid, who lived in a little brown old
house with her cat, Debby, and her
woman-of-all-work, Prudence, sharp of
tongue, long Of vissge, browner and
older than the mistress herself. There
was nothing of grace, nor beauty, nor
sweetness, about Miss Abigail's life:
everything was dry, and hard and husky.
Indeed, some people were so uncharitable
as to say that her heart was like a very
much dried-up kernel in a nutshell, and
would ratt.e if she We're to be shaken
hard enough. But never quite believed
that. always said there was a soft
spot in Miss Abigails heart, to be found
when the time came to find it.
One spring twilight boy opened Miss
Abigail's garden gate and walked up the
path between the rows Of struggling
lilacs. He was not boy who lived about
Caperstown or he would not have dared
venture, am sure, for Prudence's sake,
besides having nothing to venture for
He was an unkempt, staryed-looking
little specimen of humanity. His coat
was world too long and patched at the
elbows; and his trousers were a world |
too short and patched at the knees. His
hat was guiltless of brim and through a
hole in the crown bobbed a little tuft of |
hair which had once been brown, hut |
was now wofully faded He went straight
up to Miss Abigail's porch steps. Miss
Abigail was sitting on the porch in her
hieh-backed rocking chair so intent on
binding off her stocking heel that she
heard neither the click of the gate-latch
nor the footsteps on the hard -trodden
path, and she did not look up until the
boys figure interposed itself between her
work and the fading sunset light
He dotted his tattered hat-crown.
'If you please, ma'am, will you-may
I have something to eat ?"
1t WAS not at all "a tramp's manner of
asking; there was a manliness in the
voice which Miss Abigail could not help
but notice. Perhaps that was the reason
she looked at the boy sharply for a mo- {
ment before she answered. In that mo- {
meBt, Prudence. tall and angular. stood a
in the door, with a shawl thrown over {
her head, and her right hand swathcd /
with soft cotton. i
'Tll have to git Jonas Barrow's man
to do the milkin', Miss Abigail" said 8
she. 81 can't. I've burned my hand S
that bad"
Tho boy looked up quickly. "Cant I
could milk for you?"
As have intimated, Prudence did not s
ike boys; and that she sometimes ex- O
pressed her dislike in a very forcible Il
manner many village urchins could tes- 4
ify. Now, she surveyed this boy stand o
ng by the porch steps, from his bare h
,rown feet to his bare brown head, not p,
the faded little tuft, in dumb b
~
''You might let him try, Prudence" " 81
aid Miss Abigail, thinking rather du- fl
'iously of the nervous, mouse-colored
Aldeney in the yard. 8,
1 chored on farm all last sun mer,'' T.
explained the boy eagerly, glancing from 70
Mistress to maid 81 want some sup
,er, and I'll be glad to do something to q,
ay for it. n,
Well, you kin try it, said Prudence, m
fter a momentary deliberation. cts fo
etter'n begging favor, anyhow" he
She led the way to the kitchen, and
,ok a shining tin pail from the dresser. p,
" Here's the mill1-pail, said she to the In,
oy, who stood waiting; can the cows
the yard yonder. Payday comes bu
hen the works done. Al
And Prudence smiled grimly, as she til,
ant about setting out lunch of bread &C
ID butter and cold meat. She felt an
orally certain that the fiighty Alde1ney Ills
'ifer, used only to woman kind, would in
much more likely to spread pair Of
vine wings and fly away than allow mo
rself to be milked by boy. Pr
+" He can't do it." she said to Miss doc
'igail, who presently brought her
lifting work into the kitchen. "The ]
iferl send him sky-high /" bee
But he could and he did. Soon he he
peared in the doorway, his pail brim- say
ng with snowy foam. yea
g Well, 1 never p CALCULATED Pru- A
nee. car
You didn't think I could ?" said the alol
=, smiling brightly.