Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-04-16
FABLE THE THIRD.-CONr1NpE


1t was poor end to her broken re-
solve-going out for Stephen Harlow
and bringing home a Farmer Marrish.
But she assuredly could not 90 on
lingering there for man who did not
come.
''Father will be glad to see you when
aver you like" said She The invita-
ton was not very graciously given; but
she did not feel gracious. and could not
seem to be what she was not by merely
trying, even if she had tried But
Enoch Marrish could not expect every
thing ali at once; and she had not bid
den HIM 60 away.
So he walked beside her back to Levs
Croft talking of the harvest and of
money, and otherwise making love
after an invisible fashion, but never
once mentioning Stephen. No-he
could not have come across him at
Manchester; that was clear. Nor was
the truant about the place when she
got home. Nearly two days without
word-it was getting strange.
''Why. where's Stephen?n asked Tom
Blackthorn as the three were sitting
down to supper. The master of Leys
, Croft Of such he could be called) had
recovered his old rather self-glorious
ways since Fortune had smiled again,
and looked his neighbor i'm the face. or
rather above his head, as if their being
still debtor and creditor were merely
an empty form, only waiting to be
swept away by a stroke of the pen. Il
tell you what, Patience, when YOU re
Mrs Harlow. You must keep your man
to meaI-timeS; unless, maybe, at har-
vest, and such Ike times. never kept
dinner waiting. no. FOR supper, since l
was born. This won't do
He over at Manchester on business,
father said she.
Business, eh?' said her father, who
seemed in IN especially jovial mood.
81 say. Marrish, though-don't that
put you in mind of an old time or two?
Business at Hunchester;' Lord, what
pecSs of wild oats that used to be bin
fori But l forgot; you never sowed that
sort of crop. No, nor Stephen. Come,
lass. you needn't begin to look like
cabbage rose. Stephens as good lad
as bIarrish there used to be. When he
says business, he means business; and
MAJ business, too. And / wish some
Others had been more like him." said
he, with sudden change; and Pa
tience knew that his own joke had re-
minded him of his scapegrace son.
''But that's neither here nor there.
Fall to, neighbor, and give us the news
of the day"
There seemed no particular reason.
after all, why Farmer Marrish had
come over to Legs Croft, for her father
did all the talking. The truth is that
Farmer Marrish was haunted with the
uncomfortable fear that Stephen might
h. +l,a Ii, of
and might turn up at Leys Croft before
bedtime. People who mold circum-
stance must expect a good many I'M
comfortable hours. And if anything so
inconvient should happen, it would not
do for him to be out of the way. So he
even outstayed his welcome, and, to
spin, out the time. took more than one
nightcap; which, as it was at another
mans cost, he could for once well
afford
Tom Blackthorn had taken more
than two nightcaps, and felt all the bet
ter for them. You mustn't mind your
old fathers Jokes, lass said he. IF
it hadn't been for that Young Harlow
Imightn't have had another joke left to
come. What thing it is to be a pretty
girl. Poor Marrish-hanging round
the honey-pot when all the honey's
gone But bless my soul-what am
saying? Another joke-another joke,
my dear; that's all There give me a
kiss, and to bed. Make Stephen keep
early hours. There's nothing like 'em
nothing like EN- in the world.
They're the way TO be healthy, wealthy
and wise. And it's the early bird picks
up the worm. And early sow, early
now"
But it was not Enoch Marrish who
,,1~l,&
of the ancients. He knew that he had
put his pillow into a furrow from which
there was no backing, however crooked
it might be. Whatever happened now,
he must not let such lie as he had told
prove to have been told in vain. And
there was still many q chance against
him. Stephen Harlow was no con-
temptible enemy ready to run his head,
like Tom Blackthorn, against any post
that stood handy. Nor was Patience
s;mpleton. to be taken in by any COM
mon SANDER. There was the post,
which even the most hurried soldiers
would find time to use. There would
be letter to Patience, surely; and one,
no doubt. to his employers besides. The
latter could be easily dealt with. He
could write to Messrs. Preston and bid
them send letters for Stephen Harlow
under cover to himself; or he could 90
to Millport and tell his own story, if
need were, without the Blackthorns
being a whit the wiser. But letter to
Patience herself was another thing, and
must be dealt with in another way.
And how to deal with that chance took
him all night to consider. For he was
slow, though sure.
Patience Backbone had no reason
for wakefulness. She trusted Stephen
even as she trusted herself and more.
Had he met with any accident he must
have heard; and then he was not the
sort of man whom accidents befall. He
was lucky. and he was strong. Yet
something like people call a PRESENT.
ment when it happens to come before
misfortune troubled her; and she was
long in falling asleep and quick in wax
ing. The morning light and freshness
sweep away presentiments like the cob
webs they are, and so they did hers.
Stephen would be over by breakfast
time, to be sure. But he was not over
by breakfast-time.
She was getting really anxious. She
did not make even a pretense of break
ing the neck of her mornings work,
but, throwing shyness and certainty of
village gossip to the winds. went to the
village and to the blacksmith's, whittier
the letters came to be called for.
SIS there any letter for Legs Croft?"
cbe asked the blackSmith'S wife who