New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1884-04-02
AUNT ABBY's GUESTS.

AUNT ABBY'S GUESTS.
Mary Miller came home from the
Hunsden factory, upon that April even
ing, with a 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 its
earliest banners of blossom; and as she
tripped along, Mary found a tuft of
violets, half-hidden under a drift of
dead leaves-pale, purple, scentlcss
blossoms!
''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.
''Home!" was scarcely the ideal real
ization of that poetic word to our fac
tory girl. She and her mother lived
in the upper-half of shabby, unpaint-
ed, tumble-down house, in the out
skirts of the great Yorkshire manufac-
turing town, with tho blacksmith's
scolding wife and seven riotous chill
dren downstairs, and one-half of q
trampleddown backyard by way of
garden, where nothing ever grew but
burdocks, nettles, and Mrs. Muggs'
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
shaded lamp and bunch of yellow
primroses on the table ready for Mary
to come home.
''Good news, mother!'' the girl cried
lightly. 'The Meadow Farm is to be
let! Mother, we must take it,
Mrs. Miller looked obviously at the
bright eager face, with it's blue-gray
eyes and fringes of yellow hair.
''Can we afford it, daughter" she
said, slowly. "a whole house and a
farm of twenty acrcs?"
cit isn't such very large house,
mother!' pleaded Mary, as she laid the
bunch of violets in her mothers lap
mot 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 it
would be to have home all to ourselves,
where we couldn't hear Mrs. Muggs
boxing Bobby's ears, or Helen shrek
ing with the toothache! And little
garden, mother, where we could have
peonies and hollyhocks, and all those
lovely, old-fashioned flowers that your
soul delights imp
Mrs. Miller's pale, mild face soft
ened.
lit would be great temptation,
Mary" she said.
1T is month now since old Ms.
Dabney died. said Mary. "And they.
say that her daughter in London, and
her son, who has the large cutlery shop
in Sheffield, despiso the old farm, with
its one-story house and its old red barn.
So it is to be let. And so cheap, too!
Only ninety pounds a year! 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, it
will be such happiness! Say yes,
mother-do say yes"
When Mary Miller pleaded like this,
this gentle widow never knew how to
refuse; and the upshot of it was that
they leased the old Danny house. and
became co-sovereigns of the realm Of
Meadow Farm.
It was their first night there. Over,
head the young May moon shone
through veil of purple mist. A sOli-
tary owl hooted in the chestnut wood
behind the house. For Meadow Farm
was situated on lonely moor-side,
where no one ever came except on
special business.
The chickens were safely, shut mp
where foxes could not reach them, nor
ferrets steal in to bleed their young lives
away; the cows-two fine young Alder
neys-were chewing the cud behind
the old red barn, and Mary Miller had
flung handful of pine-logs on the
hearth, where their scented blaze illu-
minated the old kitchen with q leaping
brightness beautiful to see.
because it's just possible that the
house may be damp" she said, latter
being uninhabited SO long. There.
mother, isn't that cheerful? And isn't
it nice that our old rag-carpet should
chance to fit this floor so exactly?"
with a satisfied, downward glance.
Sand do you see those tiger-lilies? l.
found them down by the garden wall
oh, such a red wilderness of them! Old
Mrs. Dabney set them out herself, they
say. 1t seems only yesterday" she
added, thoughtfully, shat came past
here and saw old Mrs. Dabney sitting
in the big chair by the fire, just where
Mrs. Miller uttered little shrek,
and grasped her daughter's arm at this
moment. Mary stopped short, with an
ashy pallor overspreading her cheek.
For, as she spoke, the door opposite
had opened and very little old woman,
silver-haired and shrivelled like num-
my, came in, and, walking across the
floor, seated herself in Mrs. Dabney's
very corner An old woman dressed
in coarse gown of check pattern
which Mrs. Dabney had always worn,
and wearing snuff-colored cap, while
a bag depended from her arm.
..It's cold, ladies'" she said, looking
around with a deprecating air: Gold
for the season of the year. And they
don't keep fires at Tewkstown!'
Mother, 8 said Mary, recovering
herself with an hysterical gasp of relief
sit isn't old Mrs. Dabney's ghost at
all. It's old Miss Abby, come back
from the Tewkstone workhouse.'
you don't mean began the
mild widow,
THAT Mr.. Daniel pabney and Mrs,
Everard Emerson let their old aunt 90
to the poor-house?" said Mary Miller.
Yes. it is quite true, Mrs. Daniel leads