Middletown transcript., 1883-02-02
ISABEL PENR1TH's COURAGE.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.


farm house in the mountain wilderness
How sadly the broken hinges creaked,
and the loose shingles ratified on the
roof And the bloody stripe Of sunset
over the leafless tree-tops in the west
grew fainter and more lurid, and the
dusk came creeping up the valley like q
visible form Of darkness, and Isabel
Penrith shuddered as she stood at the
window with her eyes fixed eagerly on
the wild and melancholy landscape.
"Oh, l never, never can stay here r.
thought poor Isabel.
She was tall, finely made girl Of
eighteen, with face which. although
not beautiful, possessed the highest
charm Of expression, and large brown
eyes full Of wistful softness.
"The best lookin' Of all my nieces, !"
said Aunt Penelope Wilde.
Isabel was the third one Of the Pen
rith girls who had been sent : on trial''
as it were, from the bustling little sea-
port town where Joseph Penrith strug-
gled with fortune in behalf Of his large
family, as best he might, to the desc
late Wilde farmhouse. Aunt Pene-
lope was a childless widow, with prop
erty to leave, and when she graciously
signifed her will and pleasure to adopt
and provide for one Of her brothers. tall
girls, the chance was easily grasped at.
Mary Penrith had cried for three days
and three nights when she came to
Aunt Pen. Is, from sheer homesickness,
and the old lady had wrathfully pro
nounced her "a poor limp thing, no
better than a dishrag." Agatha, the
next, had broken Aunt Pen. Is favorite
china teapot, laughed at her old-fash-
ioned ways, and spoiled two successive
churnings Of butter with her careless
management, and was packed home
with considerable less ceremony than
if she had been barrel Of apples OF a
ferkin Of butter.
"She won't do" Aunt Pen. had said
emphatically. And now [sabel's turn
had come.
Aunt Pen. was sitting by the fire,
surveying with no little complacency
some purchases she had just made of a
travelling peddler, at the moment when
Isabel stood SO forlornly by the window.
Aunt Pen. was rich in woodland, and
pine logs cost but little SO there was a
great, genial blaze Of resinous, silvery
fringed logs, that made the room al
most as light as a modern chandelier
could have done.
"This amt bad quality o. calico
for sixteen cents, Isabel" said the old
lady, drawing the fabric critically over
her thumb nail. And the color's jist
what like-a substantial brown, that
won't show every speck O. dust like
white satin.''
4 Yes, it is very pretty" said Isabel,
mechanically.
And got real bargain in them
spools o. cotton. | needed cotton
That feller had better assortment
than travelin merchants generally have.
| say, Isabel Y
"Well, Aunt Pen. ~
"I'm almost sorry I didn't get that
poplin gowned-the black one, mean,
with the oyershot dots. 'Twarn't dear
at twenty dollars, and it would make a
right down handsome go-to-meetin'
dress, enough prettier than Miss Dea-
con Perriman's. n
:" Yes, it would make up very pref
tily."
And you could ha' helped me with
the waist and sleeves, too. Well, my
wisdom always comes too late"
Isabel said nothing. To tell the
truth, she had experienced rather q
feeling Of relief that afternoon when
the door was safely bolted and barred
behind the peddler. She had not fan.
cied his keen, rat-like eyes, nor the fur
tive glance shooting from beneath his
eyebrows, with which he had surveyed
the premises. She had imagined that
his eyes had followed Aunt Penelope
rather too closely when she went to gel
the stocking-foot Of money to pay fol
her purchases, and she had felt little
vexed when Aunt Pen. had inadvert
emily mentioned the fact Of their being
"two lone women.n But she saiC
nothing Of all this to Aunt Penelope
but let her enjoy her calico bargains t
her hearts content.
Just as she placed lighted candle OF
the round pine stand, however, a knocl
sounded at the door, and, opening it
she beheld the identical peddlef, will
his pack still balanced on his shoulder
live come back, Miss, you see" b
said, apologetically. II missed tn
right raod, somehow, and it was grow
ing dark 50 fast that / thought perhap
the old lady would give me house-roon
for night, and we could make it al
right in the morning.
Isabel, still holding the door knob i
her hand, turned with doubtful, queS
tioning face to her aunt.
"Of course, Of course" said the ol
lady, good humoredly, as she remen
bered the much-coveted poplin. "W
amt savages here, to turn homeless
wanderer away from our door, I q
hope Set down by the fire, sir. Iss
bel, hang over the tea-kettle, my dear
and hark vn itJst ratlf another bIankf