The Delaware ledger. (Newark, Del.) 1879-19??, 1884-06-07


The first thing she noticed on enter
ing the apartment occupied by the groc-
er's wife was her wardrobe door left
ajar.
Temptingly In view lay the white
box, within which Mrs. Bob knew lay
the pink bonnet for which her heart
yearned.
'There's no harm in my looking at
it," she whispered, putting down her
broom.
There 1t lay light and fieecy as
pink aurora, and Kitty, lifting it care
fully out, ran to the glass and set it
daintily on her pretty little head.
Becomingl should say SO. My! If
Bob could only Just see herl
She laughed and nodded to herself in
the mirror; then, turning sideways,
gave backward coquettish glances at
herself over her shoulder.
All at once all audacious idea oc-
CURED to her. Why not go over and
make call on the widow (wh0 had
never seen the bonnet). There was
not house on the way; it was lovely
day, and
"I'll just dress myself and see how 1t
looks, anyway" said she.
(Here the serpent got his own way
entirely, you see.)
After an hour or two spent in eating
hasty lunch, putting on her best white
dress, doing up her hair in four differ
ent ways, and pulling it down as often,
she again, and with less hesitation,
took out the bonnet.
Alas! what woman could have with
stood that smiling face with its halo of
pink, nodding plumes, its bows of pink
satin ribbon tied so eoquettishly under
the chin9 Mrs. Bob could not. So
much in love was she, in fact, with her
self under this new aspect that she
could hardly tear herself away from
her own image. Gliding cautiously
down stairs to avoid meeting any one,
she trlpped along the lane, glancing
coquettishly at herself in the little
/ pools sue came 10.
The widow was delighted to see her
or she appeared to be. So charming
in fact, did she make herself that Mrs.
Bob stayed two hours and noticed not
the gathering clouds or the fast disap-
pearing glory of the summer afternoon.
Hearing at last the little gilt clock
on the mantlepiece strike five, she rose
to depart, feeling well pleased with her.
self, the widow and ber call.
AS she went gayly down the garden
path she noticed, for the first time, with
alarm, that the sun had hidden him
self and that black cloud hung over
her head. She hurried on, glancing
unCasily at the sky.
What was that on her noseP A drop
of rainp POohi 1t couldn't be. Yes,
it was, though, and she mile from
home and with no umbrella.
Have you ever seen one of those sud-
den storms that come without warningP
They are very common in the lake dis
tricts in the north of England. This
was one Of them. First, two or three
drops, then deluge.
Poor, guilty, little Mrs. Bob She
stood fora moment horror struck, look
ing yainly for place of refuge, and
then throwing her skirts frantically
O. er her borrowed plunes, ,croutched un-
der a big bush that skirted the road
side.
This was not very comfortable, as
you may imagine. and Mrs. Bob had
plenty of time to chew the cud of sweet
and bitter fancy. Meanwhile the rain
came down in torrents, patter, patter,
patter, sop, sop, sop, soaking through
her thin shoes, dripping through the
bushes on her nose, her hands and on
the skirts that covered the bonnet.
Had it soaked through She dared
not look.
"Oh dealI" she thought "If some
carriage would only go by.
That day funeral had taken place;
an old man who had been suffering
many years with rheumatism had been
taken away, and that very afternoon
he had gone to his last resting place--a
graveyard two miles beyond the
Widows.
As if in answer to Kitty's thoughts
she now saw coming down the road at
a speedy jog trot the hearse which had
conveyed the mortal remains of old
Deacon Potter to Appleby, and which
was then on Its homeward journey.
Now, in England the hearses are not
like those In this country. There are
no glass sides, no transparencles, moth
ing to show to the outside public the
sad contents that they bear, and as
Mrs. Bob saw this coming toward her,
horrible with its black noddlng plumes,
and dreary in its wet gloominess, a
strange and awful idea took possession
of her. She knew the driver; he had
taught side by side with her husband in
the Sundays hool.
She now waved her stiffened and
dripping hand to him, and called him
by name:
"Mr. Knightonl Mr.. Knightonl"
Now Mr.. Knighton's calling did not
allow him to be over-sensitive In the
matter of nerves, and he had looked
upon many blood-curdling horror un-
moved, but this woman's hoarse voice
calling hun so strangely, at such time
and in such a place, made him consid.
erably agitated.
"By Jupiterl ma'am-who the-P"
at is only l, Mr.. Knlghton," cried |
poor, dripping little Mrs. Bob, putting |
her head out from under the bush.
'I'm caught in storm with all my |
good clothes on. and no umbrellas"