The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1884-04-03

a child.n -
Her words proved to be correct Miss
Abby Dabney suffered herself to be
lead unremonstratingly back to Tewks-
town Workhouse, where the matron
read her a shrill-voiced lecture, and de-
clared that she should not be allowed
another grain of snuff if she couldn't
behave better. Old Miss Abby smiled
deprecatingly.
"They are peculiar people here"
she said. 81 think my DEAR to Mary
Miller. ''they forget sometimes | am
lady. But it takes all sorts, don't you
see, to make world"
The next night, however, just as
Mary and her mother were sitting
down to tea, Miss Abby once more APP
peared, in the midst of gentle shower
of rain. -.st ...-... --...4..s
Il hope I don't Inconvenience any
body" she said, meekly. %'But that
woman at Tewkstown has cut off my
allowance of snuff, and, after all,
there's no place like home"
And once more Mary Miller patiently
walked back with the poor old crone to
the worRhouse.
The matron was infuriated this time.
''It amt in human natur' to stand
this" she declared. 'Ill put her in
the Jug .--
"The -Jug?'' repeated Mary. in sur
prise.
''It's room, down cellar, where we
shut up the troublesome cases." said
the matron. 81 can't stand this run
ming away. business, and i won'tr'
The jug, perhaps, proved etficacioas,
for old Miss Abby Dabney did not app
pear again for week. At the expira-
tion of that period, however, she crept
noiselessly in, just at dark, and seated
herself like a silent shadow in the
chimney corner.
at is so good to be at home again.
said she, rubbing her wrinkled hands.
81 somehow seem to get lost of late.
Daniel is gone, and Betsy is gone, and
I'm left here all alone. Yes, cup of
tea, please-sugar, and no milk. They
never remember how like my tea at
Tewkstewn. This is good; and butter
on my bread, tool We don't get butter
at Tewkstown.
Mary burst into tears.
Mother" said she, Miss Abby
shall not go back to Tewkstown-- she
shall stay here. Mother, how should l
| feel if you were wandering friendless
and alone through the world?"
"But my dear
''She shall sleep in her own old room,
out of the Kitchen" persisted Mary.
| ''She'l IL be no more care than a canary
bird. Oh, mother, do consent! She
will think then that she is still in her
own home. Oh, if you knew how
dreary it is at that Tewkstown Work.
| house, with the grass all trampled
out, and not so much as dandelion or
a daisy to be seem"
And Mrs. Miller yielded to Mary's
fearful solicitations.
DO as you please, my child" said
she. s
The Tewkstown authorities were but
| too glad to be rid of the poor old incu-
bus, and Miss Abby Dabney settled
down into her old home, as contentedly
and unquestioningly as if she had never
| left it. She ate and drank but little,
and talked still less, and seemed to re-
gard Mrs. Miller and Mary as guests,
who had come to visit the old farm.
'sThe Widow Miller and her darter
must be rich folks to undertake to sup
port old Miss Abby" sneered one
neighbor.
''She was we'll enough provided for
at the workhouse," said another.
81 never yet saw farm succeed that
was worked by women folks" jeered a
third.
| .'There'Il be the biggest kind of q
smash-up presently" observed number
four. s.And an auction sale of every
thing; and I'll be on hand, for them
little Alderney cows is the prettiest
creatures lever set eyes on, and good
mixers into the bargain
But time wore on; and there was no
futter or any printed placard an
nouncing sale over the gate. On the
contrary, matters throve, and Mary
Miller declared. joyously, that '.farm-
ing was a great deal more profitable
business than working in the factory,
and she only wished she had found it
| out before"
Until one gray, autumnal evening,
| Mary and her mother came back from
brisk walk to the village, and found
| i stalWart, sun-browned man sitting
opposite to Miss Abby, by the red glow
of the fire.
The old woman rose up, in her old,
uncertain way.
"Ladies," she said, fumbling in her
old snuff box, "this is my nephew, Tom
Burton-he as ran away from home
twenty year ago come Michaelmas Day
and we all supposed was dead. Tom.
these are the ladies who are SO good as
to visit me here don't quite recollect
their names; but then, my memory
amt as good as it used to be; and,
after all, it don't matter much. Moth
ing matters much nowadays
And Miss Abby sat down and fel
into ''daze' again. as if all necessity
for conversational effort were over.
Tom Burton stood up-a bronZed
bearded giant, with dark eyes and su
perb stature.
Ladies, / beg your pardon" HI
said. ''But / thought when came
here, I was coming home! l knew moth
ing of all these changes. | never could
have dreamed that my cousins weult
let this old creature go to-the toWI
poorhouse. | don't know who you are
ladies'" with q husky rattle in hi
throat. 'but I thank you, from thu
very bottom of my heart, for giving
her shelter in her old age. And i
money will pay you for it"
1T will not!'' said Mary, sharply, q:
if the words conveyed slur.
mo, suppose not, said Tom, will
a sigh. 'But I've plenty of money now
The dear old aunty shall live like I
queen all the rest of her days, for sh,
was good to me when all the rest Sc
me down for black sheep. I've mad
my fortune out in New Zealand, ant
I've come home to redeem myself!'
II have heard of you very often,
said Mrs. Miller, gently.
':And I'll venture to say, ma am, yol
heard no good of me-" said the young
giant, with short laugh. Il will no
deny that l was wild lad enough, bu
there wasn't any actual evil in me, lie
folks say what they would. And nov
I'm back, rich man, and there's no
body to bid me welcome home, excep
, old Aunt Abby out of the workhouse.
He could not long have made thi
: statement, however.
All the town was up to bid the rlcl
government contractor welcome t.
, Tewkstown, within twenty-four hours
Human nature is human nature every
where. But Tom Burton cared littl