The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1884-04-03
"You don't mean -" began the

in livery. What could they do with a
half-crazy old aunt, who takes snuff
and talks uncertain grammar? Poor
Miss Abby! She has wandered back
to her old home. She was eighty last
birthday, and things are all misty and
vague to her"
s.But what shall we do?" said Mrs.
Miller, in accents of perplexity. "A
crazy woman here-it don't seem just
right, Mary, does it?'
tn take her back after she has
rested little, and had cup of tea,"
said Mary, cheerily.
'.But perhaps she won't gop"
s.Oh, yes, she will,n said Mary.
Poor Miss Abby! She is as gentle as
a child"
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 a world"
The next night, however, just as
Mary and her mother were sitting
down to tea, Miss Abby once more ap-
peared, in the midst OF a gentle shower
of rain.
81 hope | don't Inconvenience any
body" she said, meekly. '.But that
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 workhouse.
The matron was infuriated this time.
at amt in human natur' to stand
this" she declared. IN 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 | won't!'
The jug, perhaps, proved efficacious,
for old Miss Abby Dabney did not ap-
pear again for week. At the expira-
ton of that period, however, she crept
noiselessly in, just at dark, and seated
herself like a silent shadow in the
chimney corner.
1T is SO good to be at home again,
said she, rubbing her wrinkled hands.
Il somehow seem to get lost of late.
Daniel is gone, and Betsy is gone, and
I'm left here all alone. Yes, q cup of
tea, please-sugar, and no milk. They
never remember how | like my tea at
Tewkstown. This is good; and butter
on my bread, too! 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 II be no more care than a canary
bird. On, mother, do consent! She
viii think then that she is still in her
own home. On, 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
daisy to be SEEN"
And Mrs. Miller yielded to Mary's
fearful solicitations.
DO as you please, my child" said
she.
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 unquestoningly 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.
1.-The Widow Miller and her darter
must be rich folks to undertake to sup
port old Miss Abby" sneered one
neighbor.
''She was well enough provided for
at the workhouse, said another.
Il never yet saw farm succeed that
was worked by women folks" jeered
third.
''There'll be the biggest kind of
smaSh-up presently observed number
thing; and III be on hand, for them
little .Alderney cows is the prettiest
creatures | ever set eyes on, and good
mixers into the bargain.
But time wore on; and there was no
tiutter or any printed placard an
nouncing sale over the gate On the
contrary, matters throve, and Mary
Miller declared, joyously, that farm
ing was 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
a brisk walk to the village, and found
a stalwart, sun-browned man sitting
opposite to Miss Abby, by the red glow
of the fire
Ihe old woman rose up, in her old,
uncertain Way.
Ladies" she said, fumbling in her
old snuff-box, ''this is nv 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 nowadaysrh
And Miss Abby sat down and fell
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, l beg your pardon" he
said. ''But | thought when l came
here, was coming h0paei knew moth
ing of all these changes. l never could
have dreamed that my cousins would
let this old creature go to-the town
poorhouse. | don't know who you are,
ladies'" with husky rattle in his
throat ''but l thank you, from the
very bottom of my heart, for giving
her shelter in her old age. And if
money will pay you for it"
1T viii notl'' said Mary, sharply, as
II the words conveyed slur.
mo. L suppose not said Tom, with