The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-05-05
THE STORY OF LITTLE MARY.
Lippincott's Magazine.

nimau had dark, fresh look about it, like
sea-weed, and the smell of the salt sea was
always mingled in it with that of the cook
ing The few pieces of furniture-the
wooden chairs and tabes-had waxy brown
gloss on them, and the stove was polished
after the "similitude of precious stone"
1t was one of those delicate and exclusive
kitchens which it is as much of privilege
and proclamation to enter as a royal palace.
Mrs. Penniman, with the salt wind ruff
fling her gray hair, was standing at the table
between the windows, putting the bread to
rise, and Captain Penniman and the city
boarder were sitting on the piazza on the sea
side of the old, low house, which, somehow,
seemed to have dark, waxy gloss to it, like
the kitchen furniture.
The daylight had gone, but it was not yet
dark enough for stars The water looked
like ripping steel, and the wind blew freshly
over 1t.
Captain Penniman sat tipped back in an
old waxy armchair, his gray head leaned at
a contemplative angle against the brown
clapboard, and his bue-stockinged feet, in
their wide carpet slippers dangling out of
the baggy, gray trousers There was fringe
of beard like silver wool extending from ear
to ear around the full, old face, in which
look of gentle meditation that would have
done credit to a medieval monk struggled to
reconcile itself with the hard seams and
wrinkles and the weather-beaten texture that
age and the buffeting salt winds had brought
there. His brown, knotted old hands, cal
loused with the fierce strain of many
etanch cable in a heavy sea. were folded
peacefully upon his breast. Indeed gen
tie peace and contentment was visible in the
whole appearance of Captain Abijah Penni-
man, and probably lay still deeper in his
heart. as he sat there in his own home porch.
with the last ship that he would ever sail
long ago safe in her port, and let that salt
wind that had had the power to move him
30 blow futilely over him.
The city boarder sat a little way from
him, in a little wooden rocker. There was
none of the peace of the old mans face in
hers; her hands were on the ropes yet evil
IDENTIFY, and her ship all at sea. She had
thin. pale alert face, and her black hair was
put plainly back in way that signified that
the care OF her personal appearance was
rather a necessity than an anxiety. There
was deep wrinkle between her eyes that
showed distinctly in the half-light. She
looked like person with history, as peo-
pie say; very likely she had one; most of us
have. She was all in white, and had white
fluffy shawl closely gathered around her
throat she did not rock, but sat almost
rigidly still; the tension of her nerves
seemed too strong for her to relax them
in that little womanly way Her thin hands,
a little blue from the cool sea wind lay, in
that stiffness which is not repose in her
lap.
The city boarder, whose name was keen
concentrated one like herself (KenS), was a
curious contrast to Captain Penniman, who
sat so peacefully by her side. There was, in
reality, a distance between them vastly
wider than the extent of that shimmering
sheet of steel; no ship that the old captain
had ever sailed could have surmounted it.
Miss Kent had been staring fixedly out to
sea; now she turned her gaze indifferently up
the long stretch of sandy road on the right.
A few rods away, on line with the Captains
home, and also from ting the sea. was one of
those conventional New England sea cap
tains mansions, white and square, and
massive, two stories and half high with
huted posts at the four corners, and balus-
trade extending around the roof, where the
captains wife could stand safely with her
spy-glass when her husbands ship was due
in port
who lives in the next house, CAPTAIN
Penniman?" asked Miss Kent
It was one of those utterly Indifferent
questions that every one asks at times. She
did not care in the least who lived in the
house, 1t was extremely improbable that she
ever would care; but she had the uncomfort-
able feeling that long silence between new
acquaintance gives one and felt it incum-
bent upon her to say something.
= She had been here only few days. she
was all alone and not very strong and she
had pitiful longing to have these people
like her and be friendly. So she softened
Aarpo har cIaor xyoino and Eaa fan
best she might, and asked the question, with
a quick, nervous smile on her thin lips, of
Captain Abjah.
he looked oontemplatively at her for mo-
ment, and then at the house in question; the
lights had just glimmered out from two win
dows on the side toward them.
"Cap'n Knel Whitlow lives thar" he said
mt length, with a thoughtful drawl. still
keeping his ewes fixed on the house, The
Cap'n quit following the sea bout the same
time | did, and settled down" He brought
his chair down on all four of its legs, laid
hand on each knee, bent slightly forward,
and eyed Miss Kent with an eye OF medita-
tive doubt He was little afraid of her, to
tell the truth; women of her stamp he had
not fallen In with much; he would have been
eurer of his ground with strange sea mon
Fter--though poor Miss Kent was not in the
least monster. 81 don't suppose" he said
at length, cautiously feeling his way with his
words, that you ever heard O. little Mary
Whitlow7"
mo" replied Miss Kent, drawing her
fluffy shawl little closer and facing more
toward him. What of her, Captain Penni
man2'
81 don't believe you'd care to hear about
it." he said deprecatingly. "Its a queer
story
Indeed should; like very much to hear
queer STORIES" she said, laughing with a
pervous effort to be cordial and sprightly.
wall, don't know as | mind telin it, II
you'd like to hear, though it's queer story
"a queer story-and don't spose you kin
b'lieve it if you was to try. / don't really
know, sometimes. whether | b'lieve it my
self; kinder doubt the evidence of my own
ewes, cause it don't seem rational to do any
thin else. And If find II hard to put any
stock in IL when | see whnI did. | don't