Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1884-12-18
4 LAC0NIC WOOER.

Mrs. Abigail Widgin, bdxom wild
ow OF fdur and forty, sat sewing in
the winter sunlight which fell through
the stnEd of geraniums and petuniaS
before her sitting room window. a
cheerful wood fire burned on the
hearth, its flames ref .ctel in the gls
teuing brass fire dogs Eistened ohly
less brigErly than the Sunberms them
selves.
Mira Widgin was roly poly little
woman, with snapping black eyes,
cheeks like Baldwin apples and hair in
which onl! a few white threads disturb
ed The raven gloss. There was an air
| Of determination, it is true, in her firm
lower jaw, but this was SO 0vershadow-
ed by the general posiness and jDllity
of her face as To be hardly perceptible,
and even close observer would have
pronounced Mistress Abigail, as she
sat placdly sewing in the afternoon
! sunlight, a dame as gracious as she was
comely.
The clock in the corner ticked mon
ntonously, the Cat on the hearth rug all
ternately slept, and then, awakened 10y
sudden snap of the fire, awoke to
purr Justify until drowsiness again o.
vercame her. The widow sewed on
| with perfect cOmpOsure and scarcely a
6rmer Gu We of the mouth betrayed the
fact that she was keenly debating snme
important matter in her mind. Only
| from time 10 time Der glance WAS rails
ed tn the dial, and when at length the
sound of footsteps crunched on the
snow without WAS heard, the quick,
comprehensive survey which the black
eyes made of the room indicated some
desire that everything should be right
and trIg for the coming guest, and
showed, moreover, that the newcomer
had been exps cted.
A moment later and Tilly, the trim
maid, had ushered into the room dap
per little man with a markedly legal air,
shrewd, twinkling eyes, aud shining
bald spot on the top of his head.
Good afternoon, Mr.. Sharperson, >"
the widow said, briSkly, rising with
hospitable alacrity. II began to fear
you were not coming"
Good afternoon" the gentleman
returned, allowing his hand to be sha-
ken vigorously.
"Sit down 10y the fire." pursued the
widow, bustling about with the desire
of doing some thing, yet not quite
knowing exactly what to do. 1T must
be cool day for all the sun. The
snow crunches too much for one not to
know that. You found it so, didn't
yon?" she concluded, knowing by ex-
perience that nothing short of a direct
question was likely to elicit response
from the taciturn lawyer.
Yes" he answered briefly.
"Uncommon cold, | should say"
went on Mrs Widgin, seating herself
opposite her guest and spreading out
her plump hands to the blaze as if
talkin g of the temperature made her
more sensible of it. Colder than u.s.
ual for the season, don't you think
so ?'
"Perhaps."
"Oh, it certainly IS much colder"
No response.
but then it Is, after all, the time
of year, when one expects severe wealth
er."
Still no reply.
"The days begin to lengthen,' you
know the provero, 'the cold begins to
strengthen
Still unbroken silence on the part of
the lawyer, ana the hostess was forced
to abandon the weather for more
promising topic.
You brought the papers for me TO
sign, | suppose, Mr. Sharperson.'
"Yes,''
"Of course, you know that they are
all right. | trust it all in your hands.
I never did know anything about mort
cages"
1t was in Mr.. Sharperson's mind
that for one who knew nothing about
legal documents the widow had manag-
ed her property with remarkable
shrewdness, but it not being his Gus
tom to waste superduou5 words by
putting his thoughts into speech, he
made no remark.
81 will sign whatever you tell me
to-" his client continued with really
touching confidence. ut is hard for
woman t. have nobody but herself to
lean upon. Pm sure you don't know
what should do without yOu.n
Again no response.
II quite depend upon you"
Still 40 reply, unless faint sniff,
more or less scornful, might be so con-
sidered.
"Where are the papers ?"
Mr.. SharpersOn rose with great de.
liberation, and from the green btize
haO WLicn on Qntpriu0 ha dapoojtad