The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1884-01-05
IFrom the Youths Companion.l
AT NORMAN HALL.
A NEW YEARS WATCH.

A NEW YEARS WATCH.
Yes, we all went to Uncle Norman's
for New Year. You have never seer
Norman Hall? Well, it seems to ME
it's the pleasantest old country house il
the world, with its odd corners and gar.
rets, and empty rooms, where we BOYS
could make no end of a racket without
troubling other folks. Uncle and aunt
always let us do just as we please, for.
you see, they live alone, and when New
Year comes round they're glad enough
TO have little life in the old place.
Aunt Norman makes pies and cakes
and buildings that make your mouth
water to think about, and she doesn t
stint them either, or wink at fellow,
and tread on his toes, when he's in dan
ger of overeating. She's a nice old
lady, only she's always crying, The
tears have just worn channel down her
poor old pale face. They have, truly;
and it's because of Cousin Cecile.
Cousin Cecile was uncle and aunt's
only child, and six years ago she ran
away and got married to a music teacher
named Averil. Uncle is terribly pas
slonate, and he was so angry that he told
aunt is ever she dared mention Cecile's
name to him again that he'd never for.
give her, or do something desperate,
don't remember which; [ only know it
was something awful, for when he's in
temper he's worse than wild animal.
Cecile and her husband went off, and
nobody ever heard where they went.
That, you see, kept Aunt Norman's poor
eyes forever dripping when uncle wasn't
round. But she didn't dare to appear
sad before him, and tried 10 smile and
talk, and to be ike her old self. Every
body said she was fretting her life away,
but uncle didn't seem to see that she was
getting weaker and paler every day.
Well, that was pretty bad, but it did nj
hinder Norman Hall from being the
incest kind of a place for us boys and
girls.
Uncle had disinherited Cecile, and We
nephews and nieces-there were six OF
us-dldn't know but what one of us
would own Norman Hall one of these
days; at least, our parents thought so
and the way they used to lecture us be.
fore we went to the hall, not to make deal
uncle angry, was amusing, l can tell you
),
somehow, in u1cle's good graces, be
cause he used to say, +" Mordaunt is 6
chip of the old Norman block, sir. He's
a stubborn, independent chap, thai
would go through a stone wall to the
dogs, sir, if it suited him to travel thai
way. Just as / used to be myself"
Used to be, indeed, as if he WASH
then the very stubbornest old fellow wht
was travelling, desperately fast, too, OF
the other side of the stone wall. But
liked him; I couldn't help it.
| got to Norman Hall day before tn,
others came. That night uncle and aun
were sitting before the fire, and as / wal
IN the big bay window, watching boa
coming down the river in the moonlight
| reckon they thought they were alone
Aunt never did talk much, and tn,
two sat silent a long time. All of sud
den she dropped her knitting and sail
softly, "Another New Years eve to
morrow" and then there seemed to b
kind of sob she was trying to keel
down.
"And what of that, Helen 2" said un
Gle, as sharp AS razor. "Don't you ex
pect new year every first of January :?
"It's come to me six times, six wofu
times, since that New Years night that
and then her voice failed,
"Since you lost disobedient daugh
ter who had disgraced us, madame.
Uncle pushed up his bristly gray hal
till it looked just like pictures of hedge
hogs and porcupines.
but I'm so-lonely-Andrew," sh
went on, with her voice quivering, till
wanted to fog uncle and to cry mysel
for company.
"You told me never to mention her
and | haven't until tonight, but some
bow | must speak. l cannot forget TIN
only being | ever held to my bosom, tn
only voice that ever called me mother
l cannot put the mothers love away an,
forget her as you have done. You are
hard man, Andrew, for you have neve
let me inquire if my child is dead o
alive. But I'll soon know, for my hear
Is broken, and I'm dying though yol
won't see it.
| saw uncle give her one sharp look
and then l suppose her paleness scarce
him, for he answered her quite midi,
for him:
Nonsense, nonsense, Helen; what
done, is done, and | don't regret it.
wish you'd be a sensible woman. snC
understand that when Cecile set hel
parents at defiance, and threw nersel
away on that low-born vagabond fortune
hunter, she chose between us. She die
1t with her eyes open. Do you think I'd
give the scamp chance to make ducks
and brakes of my money ?"
But cannot forget her, Andrew, y
aunt went Oh, with so much spirit that ]
declared | was as much surprised as il
my pigeons should bristle up for fight
with wolf. "All your orders can't
drive her out of my heart and break the
tie between us. She's our child-the
child God gave us, and we foolishly in
dulged every idle whim, until she grew
to believe that 1t was right for her to
have her own way. Her fancy for that
man was whim, and she was such a
child, such poor willful child. and we
made her so, that you had no right to
cast her off as you have done. The sin
of her conduct lies as much at our doors
as hers. Andrew, before another year /
expect to stand face to face with my
God and hear Him ask, What hast thou
done with the immortal soul of the in
nocent child / gave thee ?"
uncle got as red as a turkey cock and
Jumped up.
For mercy's sake, Helen, he cried.
stop preaching at me. / can't and /
won't stand it," and then he marched
out1of thereon; but l could see by his
face that what aunt said hit him hsrd,