The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1884-08-14
A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS.

sui Tue teaVeS OF the great elm trees to q
rustic; but for the family wavering
shadows which they cast upon the lawn,
one would not have known that they moved
at all. The lawn had been rolled to a
Sunday s-moothness; the audacious little
cioyers that lifted their heads there yes
long-legged robin, who was hopping over
it. seemed to realizs his own boldness,
cooked his headupon one side, looked shyly
around, and uttered nota chirp. From the
came a subdued cackling. The
old red rooster, who was renowned for his
voice, had not, since four O'Clock, been
heard TO utter anote. There was a droning
OF insects which seemed not like sound, but
. part of the silence.
Nicodemus, the hired man, who had Just
brought round the old-fashioned carryall,
said it was still because it was $50 tarna-
tion hot.n- But Miss Eldridge and her
niece Phyllis, who were going to church in
the carryall, called IL "a Sunday hush"
The old carryall. which had q chronic
creaking in all its joints, had, by almost
superhuman efforts on Nicodemus, part,
6ecn oiled into quiet. Old B~ucephalus-
whose knees would have been the better
for oiling-stood in a dropping attitude,
Without SUFFICIENT energy to switch of the
who was about to get into the carryall, was
. trim, well-preserved little woman, on the
farther confines of middle age, who fairly
radiated decorum. From her dove-colored
bonnet to the toes of her cloth boots, she
was prim. Her dove-colored Grape shawl
was embroidered in a stiff pattern; the
nosegay of cinnamon pinks and southern
wood which she carried In her lace-mitted
hand was arranged on geometrical prin-
ciples.
bridges face: one felt sure that her SYM
pathies were not regulated by geometrical
principles.
Phyllis, Miss Eldridge's niece, was
eighteen, and just graduated from q young
ladies' seminary. When she went awayto
school she was a miniature edition of Miss
Eldridge; now she had blossomed out into
rebellious curls and dimples and fiounces
n ssshes. As she stepped out of the
door she brought a frivolous little rustic
into the Sunday hush.
Miss Eldrfdge looked at her with a little
sigh. She smiled-Phyllis was very nice
to look at, there was no denying it-but she
sighe as well. There mny be beauty Of
which one can not approve.
Suddenly there burst upon the tranquil
scene the boy from the telegraph office,
fed-faced and painting, with a yellow en-
velope in his hand. II telegraph was a
new institution in Greenvale, and not lib
orally patronized. Excitement, and a
sense of the great Importance of the occa-
sion, had conspired to reduce Tommy
Trueworthy, the postmistress' son, to Q
state of utter collapse.
Miss Eldridge took the yellow envelope
with o hand that trembled. A telegram
had never before come into her ~ranquil
life. To her mind it could be nothing but
an i'll omen.
sits for the squire,n gasped Tommy
Trueworthy.
ave will carry it to your father; come,
Phyllis said Miss Eldridge, and drew
Phyllis into the mouse.
n Tommy Trueworthy was disguised
at his own oficiousness. II he had said
nothing Miss Eldridge would have opened
the envelope, in her excitement, without
thinking to look at the approximation, and
he might have learned what his mother SO
much wanted to know-just who the peo-
pie mentioned in the telegram were. So far
she had not enjoyed kilograms as she had
expected; they were so brief as to be puz-
zling.
In the squirrels room, where he reclined
m the sofa, the victim of a sprained ankle,
Miss Eldridge put the telegram into his
hand. She was q model of patience, but it
did ruffie her to see him put on his glasses
and survey the superscription for fully two
NUT
"John Eldridge. G~reenyale. That means
me. sure enough" said the squire.
Phyllis.
With the greatest elaboration, and as
much calmness as though he lived in an
the envelope, and unfolded the Enclosed slip
"John is very i'll at Norwich. Go to him
at once, for the sake of old times.
r. MAsoN.n
lief: There was nothing the matter with
their young scapegrace, Jack, who was
tramping in the Adirondacks, nor with
brother Charities girls, who had gone
abroad. But she reproached herself for her
feeling Of relief the next moment. Some
body,s John was i'll, and in need of help.
who is he, Johni"s she asked.
Fol- answer, the squire slowly and DELHI
srately read the telegram again.
*. Mason My memory is failing,
Hester, as l told you the other day. I must
know. but Pm blest If I can remember,
who he is! For the sake of old times
sohn must be somebody whom I knew long
ago" and the squire dropped his head and
knitted his brows, in the effort torecan the
friends of those old times.
Between his college days and his unex-
pected settling down in Greenvale, to fol.
low in the footsteps of his father, the squire
had sshad his fling" He had been out into
that gay world which Miss Hester regarded
with disapprobation and dread. Reports
Of his wildness had travelled to Greenvale.
Miss Eldridge never favored any illusions
20 those old days. She felt thatit was OK.
tremely doubtful whether "John0 were a
proper person. But still he was very i'll,
and in need OF help. For only a moment or
two did Miss Eldridge hesitate.
W q 8Os JUL = buiuk 1 udQ DoU-
teri she said.
ITO Norwich Ten miles in this heat!
Well, it's just like you, Hester; mi I &C.
knowledge it would be a relief to me, for
my memory is SO treacherous. Jsh may
be some fellow who has done me a good
turn. Masons Masoni / don't remember
the NAME, but the telegraph operator may
I've mad q bsunder."
"John's name may not be Mason,n sug.
gssted Miss Eldridge.
Awkward for you not knowing what il
is" said thesquire. "But there's but one
hotel in Norwich, and he's probably there,
rs my unknown friend Doesn't specify.0
you don't know any John who has any
relatives or friends in Norwich?n said
Miss Eldridge, beginning to be conscious
that there was a difficulty as well as un.
-pleasantness about her undertaking.
"Can't for the life of me remember that
ever have had a friend named John. It's
common enough name, but I can't think
Just now OF any man that / ever knew
named John!n
"Never mind" said Miss Eldridge sooth.
ingiy, for the squire's bewilderment was
Beginning to develop an irritability to
which he was constitutionally subject. 81
shall probably be able to tell you all about
him, SO that you will remember him, when
come back.S
"Going. to take Phyllis with you, amt
you" said the squire.
~ suppose / must. I don't like to &c
alone, and there is no one else," said Miss
Eldridge, but she showed a feeling of dis.
may at the prospect.
To guard Phyllis was the great object Of
her life, and, with the world so very differ.
emit from what it had been when she was q
girl, it seemed to her a duty attended with
great difficulties. This "John" was very
likely to be a roaring lion, seeking whom
he might devour; still, if he was one Of the
friends of the squire's wild days, he mus
be old now, and, being very ill, as well
shere was some chance shat he would NOT
devour Phyllis before her eyes.
Nicodemus, the hired man, manifested
reat surprise when he was told that ht
was to drive Miss Eldridge and Miss
Phyllis to Norwich, even while the church
bells were ringing. Such q dissertation O!
the Sabbath had never been known before
in his twenty years. experience Of the
family.
"It's q long road to Norwich" said Mic.
odemus, who was privileged to speak bis
.-sA ~ oil HL..N ILL., D.