The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1883-05-31
IN LOWLY GUIsE.


Place a-bein' sold?'' inquired Mrs. Spar
rowgrass, who was spending the day
with the Widow Snapwell.
1.-The Buttonwood Place? No! Wal,
that is news! Who's bought it?" queriod
the widow eagerly, as she carefully
basted frill of Spanish lace in the neck
of her new polonaise.
"Why, man named FloWerdale,
they say. And he's a-gOin' to repair it
up, Nathan Scudder's wife says. Must
be awful rich it he does, for the old
house is pretty well run down. It's q
good farm though
Tho new purchase furnished q suffi-
ciont subject of conversation till supper
was over, and Mrs. Sparrowgrass had
rolled up her knitting, donned her shawl
and worsted hood, and taken her de-
parture, with many injuncti0ns from her
hostess to be sure and come back
again. After which Mrs. SnapweIl
fell into bs9wn study over the new
polonaise, while her pretty niece Erl-
stechia gathered up the tea-things, and
gave Hedges, the hired hand, his supper
in the kitchen.
"Yes, it must be him that put in the
advertisement for board said the wild
ow, going back to her sewing. EsIt's the
very same name-Flowerdalc he
wants to git board som ers i'll the neigh
borhood. Of course it's hint
"a bachelder, the advertisement says.
Prob bly, about forty-fve or fifty years
old. Wall, I'm on the shady side OF f
thirty myself, and ! think I'll answer it.
It's about the only chance for lone
woman like me to turn an honest pen
NY" she added, her grey eyes brighten
ing at the prospect before her. I'm
answer the advertisement right off. - she
declared; 'sand if he comes, I can fix
the spare bedroom fur him to sleep in.
And I'll hev Hedges put up some more
shelves in the buttery to set tue milk
and butter on. It'll take up too much
of Eustachia's time to be a-runnin' out
to the spring-house after en-
Whatever may have been the Widow
Snapwell's faults, procrastination was
not one of them, and her plans were
soon carried into effect.
MIR. Flowerdale had engaged the
room, paying month s rent in advance,
and Hedges had put up shelves in the
buttery, for the accommodation of the
milk and butter.
Hedges slept in the little lott, or attic,
at the top of tho house.
''It's mighty cold up there, these
nights" he confided to Eustachia as he
stopped at the stove one morning when
she was baking griddie-cakcs for break
fast
But the widow was in the pantry in
specting the plum preserves, in honor
Of the expected boarder, and her sharp
ear had caught the mans words.
''Mighty cold, is it?" she snapped out
tartly. .'Tll warrant faint q patchin
to what you've been used to, Hedges,
and don't want none OF your sass!
"And you are rs much to blame as he
is, miss" she continued. as Hedges
slipped out of the kitchen door with the
tin milk-paii in his hand. You are al
JUS talE.in' to him and encouragin' his
impudence. e.'
IL didn't say anything, aunt, y
stammored Eustachia, blushing con-
fusedly, as she thought how frequently
she had talked to Hedges, and remem-
bered tho admiring gianceS that had
lurkod in his honest brown eyes.
And in truth it was not strange if
Eustachia's soft little heart was slightly
touched by the owner of the brown
eyes, for she had small chance of falling
n love with anyone else.
You hain't got time to be a-galli-
gantin' about with bcauX," declared her
aunt, land if you had, wouldn't hev
'em a-foolin' around here. Poor girls
like you had best attend to their work,
| and if Providence wants 'em to marry
He'll give 'em u chance. 1t not, they
may be sure they was meant fur ole
maids. and now 'taint no use to furse
| about it.
''ButI don't want to be an old maid. y
pouted pretty Eustachia to herself, as
she baked and secured, MIXED and
churned, and did the chores.
That was before Mrs. Snapwen had
hired man to do the outside work.
And now that Hedges had come, she
wanted still less to be an old maid; for,
somehow or other, in spite of the wild
owls hawk-eyed vigilance, there were
plenty of chances of conversation with
| him.
1t was astonishing how many orrands
he made to the little kitchen in the
course of a day, to fill the wood-boX ol
chip-basket, Or get drink.
| And somehow or other, Eustachia'S
checks had acquired chronic habit
of blushing on the most singular coca
sions.
The sound of quick footstep outside
the kitchen-door, or a gailY whistle'
tune from the cornfield or barnyard
woald set them glowing under thci1
dropping lashes like a whole garden
bed of carnation pinks.