The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1884-04-03
AUNT ABBY's GUESTS.

AUNT ABBY'S GUESTS.
Mary Miller came home from the
| Hunsden factory, upon that April even
ing, with light, quick step.
The sky was all pale amber glow;
the frogs were croaking in the long,
damp grass of the great expanse of
| common that skirts that suburb of
Leeds; the gorse was golden with it's
earliest banners of blossom; and as she
tripped along, Mary found tuft of
violets, ,half-hidden under drift of
dead leaves-pale, purple, scentless
blOssomsi
.'The first violets always bring good
luck with them," she whispered to her.
self, as she pinned them into the bosom
of her simple, homemade dress of cot
ton.
"Homem was scarcely the ideal real
ization of that poetic word to our fac
tory girl. She and her mother lived
in the upper-half ola shabby, unpaint-
ed, tumble-down house, in the out
skirts of the great Yorkshire manufae-
turing town, with the blacksmith 9
scolding wife and seven riotous chill
dren downstairs, and one-half of a
UdCh4 ny way VI
garden, where nothing ever grew but
long-legged fowls
But. Mrs. Miller, who had been a
school-teacher once, and still retained
somewhat of the refinement other early
education, had the tea ready, with a
shaded lamp and bunch of yellow
primroses on the table ready for Mary
to come home.
''Good news, mother!' the girl cried
lightly. 1.-The Meadow Farm is to be
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, daughter" she
said, slowly. "a whole house and a
farm of twenty acres?''
sit isn't such a very large house,
mother!' pleaded Mary, rs 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 could sell milk and butter,
and spring chickens and eggs. And
only think, mother, how delightful il
would be to have home all to ourselves,
where we couldn't hear Mrs. Muggs
boxing Bobhy's ears, or Helen shrek
ing with the toothache! And a little
garden, MOTHER where we could have
pconies and hollyhocks, and all those
! lovely, old-fashioned flowers that your
soul delights inr'
Mrs. Miller's pale, mild face soft
ened.
sit would be a great temptation,
Mary" she said. ...
''It is month now since old Mrs.
Dabney died." said Mary. "And they
say that her daughter in London, and
her son, who has the large cutlery shop
in Sheffield, despise the old farm, with
it's one-story house and its old red barn.
So it is to be let. And SO cheap, too
OnIy ninety pounds yeari Mother,
we must take it! I'll leave the factory
and turn dairymaid! I've saved enough,
you know, to buy the two COWS and
some fowls to begin with, and oh, ii
will be such q. happiness! Say yes,
. mother-do say yes.
When Mary Miller pleaded like'this
this gentle widow never knew how tc
/ refuse; and the upshot of it was thai
they leased the old Dandy house. anc
became co-sovereigns OF the realm O.
| Meadow Farm.
1t was their first night there. Over
head the young May moon shont
through a yell of purple mist. A soil
tary owl hooted in the chestnut wooe
! behind the house. For Meadow Farm
was situated on lonely moor-side
| where NO one ever came except OF
special business.
The. chickens were safely shut III
| where foxes could not reach them, no
ferrets steal in 10 bleed their young live
away; the cows-two fine young Alder
neys-were chewing the eud behint
the old red barn, and Mary Miller hat
flung a handful of pine-logs on th
hearth, where their scented blaze illu
minated the old kitchen with leapin.
brightness beautiful to see.
because it's just possible that th'
house may be damp" she said, ''afte
being uninhabited SO long. There
MOTHER. isn't that cheerful? And ism
it nice that, our old rag-carpet shoul,
chance to tit this floor SO exactfy9'
with 4 satisfied, downward glance
.And do you see those tiger-liliesP
found them down by the garden wall
| oh, such red wilderness of them! OIL
| Mrs. Dabney set them out herself. the
say. 1t seems only yesterday" sh
| added, thoughtfully, ''that l came pas
here and saw old Mrs. Dabney sitting
in the big chair by the fire, just wher
-
Mrs. Miller uttered little shriek
and grasped her daughters arm at thi
moment. Mary stopped short, with a
II iii hor nhnaK
For, as she spoke, the door opposit
had opened and a very little old woman
/ silMer4haired and shrivelled like mum
my, casne in, and, walking across tn
floor, seated herself in Mrs. Dabney'
! very corner. An old woman dresse
iu a coarse gown of check patter
which Mrs. Dabney had always worI
| and wearing Il snuff colored cap, Will
a bag depended from her arm.
..It's cold, ladies'" she said, lookin
around with deprecating air. ''Col
for the season of the year. And the
don't keep fires at Tewkstown''
Mother" said Mary, recoverin
herself with an hysterical gasp of reli'
sit isn't old Mrs. Dabney's ghost {
all. It's old Miss Abby, come bac
| from the Tewkstone workhouse."
"You don't mean -" began tt
mild widow.
.That Mr.. Daniel Dabney and Mr.
Eyerard Elberson let their old aunt g
, to the poor-houseP" said Mary Mile
s.Yes, it is quite true. Mrs. Daniel leae
y society IN Sheffield. l am told, and Mr.
Elberson is grand lady IN Londol
: with carriage and horses and servan
in livery. What could they do with
y half-crazy old aunt, who takes snu
and talks uncertain grammar? Pot
Miss Abby She has wandered bae
to her old home. She was eighty Ia
, birthday, and things are all misty an
e vague to her." -,
e 9But what shall we do?" said Mr.
e Miller, in accents of perpiexlty. 6
- crazy woman here-it don't seem ju
right, Mary, does .itp11 :