Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1884-01-11
MEADOW FARM.


tory, upon that April evening, with a
light, quick step.
The sky was all jonquil glow the
frogs were croaking in the swamp the
naples were crimsoned with their earliest
banners of blossom; and, as she tripped
along, Mary found tuft of violets, half
hidden under drift of dead leaves-pale
purple, scentless blooms!
"The first violets always bring good
luck with them," she whispered to her
self, as she pinned them into the bosom
Of her blue flannel gown.
Home" was scarcely the ideal realiza-
tion of that poetic word to our factory
girl She and her mother lived in the
upper half OF a shabby, unpainted wooden
house, with the blacksmith's scolding
wife and seven riotous children down
stairs, and one-half of q trampled down
back yard by way of garden, where moth
ing ever grew but burdocks, nettlas and
Mrs. Muggs' long-legged fowls.
But Mrs. Miller, who had been q
school teacher once, and still retained
somewhat Of the refinement of her early
education, had the tea ready, with a
shaded lamp and bunch of maple BIOS
SONS on the table, ready for Mary to
come home.
Good news, mother" the girl cried,
lightly. "The Meadow farm is to let |!
Mother, we must take it,"
Mrs. Miller looked obviously at the
bright, eager face, with its blue-gray
eyes and fringes of yellow hair.
"Can we afford it, daughter3" she said
slowly. IA whole house and farm of
forty-three acres?"
1T isn't such very large house, moth
erl" pleaded Mary, as she laid the bunch
OF violets in her mothers lap--''not so
many more rooms than we have here.
And we could keep two COWS, and I
could sell milk ana butter, and spring
chickens and eggs; and am almost sure
that Will Davidge would work the farm
on shares. And only think, mother how
delightful it would be to have home all
to ourselves, where we couldn't hear Mrs.
Muggs boxing Bobby's ears, or Helen
shrieking with the toothache! And a
little garden, mother where we could
have peonies and hollyhocls, and all
those lovely, old-fashioned flowers that
your soul delights imp
Mrs. Miller's pale face softened.
ut would be a great temptation, Mol
Iy," she said.
cit is a month now since old Mrs. Dab
ney died, said Mary 'And they say
that her daughter in the city and her son
out in California despise the old farm,
with its one-story house and its old red
barn. So it is to let. And so cheap,
tool Only hundred and fifty dollars a
year! Mother, we must take it! I'll leave
the factory and turn dairy-lnaid. I've
saved enough, you know, to buy the two
COWS and some real Plymouth Rock fowls
TO begin with, and, oh, it will be such a
happiness! Say yes, mother--do say
yesp'
When Mary Miller pleaded like this,
the gentle widow never knew how to re-
fuse; and the upshot Of it was that they
leased the old Dabney house, and became
co-sovereigns OF the realm Of Meadow
farm.
1t was their first night there. Over
head the young May moon shone through
n veil of purple mist. A solitary owl
hooted in the chestnut-wood back of the
house, for Meadow farm was situated on
! lonely mountain-side where no one
ever came except on special business.
The Plymouth Rock chickens were
safely shut up where foxes could not
reach them nor minks steal in to bleed
their young lives away; the cows-twc
fine young Alderneys were chew.
ing their cud back of the old
red barn, and Mary Miller had
flung a handful of cedar-sticks on the
hearth, where their scented blaze lllumi.
mated the old kitchen with leaping
brightness beautiful to see.
Because it's just possible that the
house may be damp" she said, "aftel
being uninhablted SO long There
mother, isn't that cheerful And isn'l
it nice that our old rag-carpet should
chance to fit this floor so exactly 2" with
a satisfied downward glance. "And dc
you see those tiger lilies found then
down by the garden wall-oh, such REQ
wilderness of them! Old Mrs. Dabney
set them out herself, they say. 1t seems
only yesterday" she added, thoughtfully
''that came past here and saw old Mrs
Dabney sitting in the big chair by the
!, fire, Just where"
!. Mrs. Miller uttered little shrek and
graspcd her daughters arm at this mo-
ment. Mary stopped short, with an ashy
pallor ovcrspreading her cheek.
For as she spoke, the door opposite
had opened, and very little old woman
silver haired and shriveled like mummy
came in, and, walking across the floor
seated herself in Mrs. Dabney's very cor
ner. An old woman dressed in the snuff
colored gown which Mrs. Dabney hat
always worn, and wearing a snuif-sill
J cap, while bag depended from her arm
'It's cold, ladies'" she said, looking
around with deprecating air. "Col(
for the season Of the year. And thev
don't keep fires at Tewkstownn
|, LlAIntknr s. enid NLaru rncnunr;rc. hnr