The Brookhaven leader., 1883-10-04

| know but it's sorter material il should.
| Did YOU get the potatoes before we
came out, sister?"-wth an awkward
and kindly effort to change the subject.
mo-" replied the other, STOPPING
| over the clothcs-basket. There was
such film of tears in her dull blue
eyes that she could not distinguis hone
article from another.
"Well, guess you had better go in
an get 'em, then; they amt worth any
thing. this time of year, unless they
soak awhile, an I'll finish hangin' out
the clothes while YOU do ii. -
"Well, pr APPS I'd better" the other
woman replied, staightening herself up
from the clothes-basket. Then she
went into the house without another
word; but down in the deep cellar, a
minute later, she sobbed over the pota-
| to barrel as If her heart would break.
! Her sisters remarks had filled her with
a vague apprehension and grief which
she could not throw off. And there was
something n little singular about it.
Both these women had always been of
deeply religious cast of mind. They
had studied the Bible faithfully, if not
undcrStandngly, and their religion had
strongly tinctured their daily life. They
knew almost as much about the Old
Testament prophets as they did about
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.
1t devated from that as much as any
thing of religion-which is in one 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 pun
ishment and reward. She had dwelt
very little, probably, upon the poetic
splendors of the Eternal City, and
/ talked about them still less. Indeed,
she had always been reticcnt 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 sign of APP
preaching death. She had few super
stitious-likc gratis 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 one of the two rooms the cottage
boasted 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 step-ladder
through little scuttle in the entry cell
ing, and that was all besides. The sis
tiers had earned the cottage and paid
for it years before, by work NO as tail
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 hard they
tlll, anu WI n D6lu OlCN "Ouli lollS
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 starchcd purple
prints, which We're their afternoon
dresses, and seated themselves at the
two front windows with their work; the
house faced southwest, so 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 bushes stood close
to both. They grew on the other side
of the front door, too; little later the
low cottage would look half buried in
them. The shadows of their leaves
made a dancing network over the
freshly washed 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 cooking
stove, 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 neighbor
dropped in with her cream pitcher to
borrow some milk for tea, and she sat
down for minutes chat after she had
got it filled. They had been talking a
few moments on neighborhood topics,
when all of sudden Priscilla let her
work fall and raised her hand. "Hush!"
whispered she.
The other two stopped talking, and
listened, staring at her wonderingly,
but they could hear nothing.
"What is it, Miss Prisclla?" asked
the neghbor, with round blue eyes.
She was pretty young thing who had
not been married long.
Hush! 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.
Mary turned visibly paler than her
usual dull paleness, and shuddered. Il
don't hear any music" she said. "Do
you. Miss Moore?"
MOO" replied the caller, her
simple little face be ginning to put on a
scared look, from a vague sense of a
mystery she could not fathom.