Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1885-09-04

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$50 you are little Paul Dorsey. Myl
how time flies. When | last saw you,
you were only little shaver. 1t must
be nigh onto fifteen years ago. And to
think of Lucindy's remembering me all
these years and sending her son TO see
me. Not that | have forgotten her-not
a bit. Only with cne thing and another
one hasn't time to think much of old
days. You see your ma and l went to
the same academy, and we thought
sight of each other; only somehow after
both of US married we sort of drfted
apart. Your ma she married q wealthy
city man, while / got welded TO a we'll
to do farmer and so gradually we each
went our own way. Not to forget each
other though, as you see, and now, my
dear, excuse the liberty, but it comes
natural like, being your Lucindy's son,
I'll send one of the men down to the viii
lage after your trunk, and you'll just
stop along with us and be as welcome as
my own son, if l had one, and Marthy
and will do our best to make you COM
Portable" and motherly Mrs. Duncan
laid her hand with an approving pat upon
Paul Dorsey's slightly STOPPING should
ers, while he, coloring somewhat, en-
deavored to thank her for her warm hos
pitality, but was cut short with:
"Bless you, it's no put out, we have
lots of room, and it will be q real pleasure
to me to see Hucindys son making him.
self to home in my house."
And thus it was that Paul Dorsey be-
came guest at Willow Brook Farm.
That evening after her visitor had re-
tired Mrs. Duncan observing to her
daughter:
Poor young man, he hasn't bit of
appetite. / don't wonder Lucirdy is
fretted about him, She writes that he
is always that taken up with books, that
she can hardly ever coax him to go
about a bit with young folks and enjoy
himself. I've been thinking Marthy, if
you was just to kind of make believe
you need his help now and again about
the garden and such, it would do him a
sight of good, and he'd never suspect it
was for the sake of his health, " and Mrs
Duncan laughed, low, pleased laugh,
at the thought of the deception, while
Martha exclaimed
"Why, mother! you are getting to be
a regular conspirator. But am afraid
it won't work, he's $3.50 odd"
Paul Dorsey had been told to make
himself perfectly at home; so the morn
ing after his arrival he withdrew from
the breakfast table to his own room, and
forthwith commenced to unpack his
books preparatory to good days study.
Everything was at last arranged to his
satisfaction, but somehow his thoughts
were strangely wandering this day, al
though not a sound disturbed the cool
quietness of his surroundings. A pair
of blue eyes seemed to glance mockingly
from the musty page he fain would mas
ter, and he caught himself repeating
, aloud the od-fashioned name of
"Marthy," which took unto itself the
J sweetest of sounds by reason of its con-
nection with so pretty an owner. Sud-
denly, with thud, the book fell from
his hand, as, exclaiming: "By Jove!
that's her voice." Paul Dorsey, with one
: stride, was at the window making sad
havoc of the dainty dimity curtains with
clumsy hands.
Martha, accompanied by tall stalwart
fellow, was passing down the garden
| path, her infectious laughter floating
| merrily upon the balmy air as she
chatted away to the young man at her
side, who appeared to be enjoying the
subject under discussion as much as her
J self. AS they disappeared from view
Paul, with rather blank look, resumed
his seat and sought to apply himself to
: his interrupted task, but not with the
l old ardor did he work, and for the first
time that he could remember, he lis
, tened anxiously for the bell to summon
him to luncheon.
, The days slipped into weeks, and still
Paul Dorsey remained guest at Willow
r Brook Farm, and it became no unusua
l sight to see him obediently following
Martha's directions concerning the up
roofing of certain weeds, or the fasten
ing of some vine more securely about it
? support. An honest, bronze tinge haC
D replaced Paul's once sallow complexion
and the books-well, they had become
, secondary, more potent charm having
| outrivaled them. Mrs. Duncan con
, graduates herself upon her happy fore
: thought that was working such chang
l in her friends son, and Martha admitted
t with slight blush, that Mr.. Dorsey
was getting to be almost as handsome a
i her cousin Joe-her beau ideal of mani,
g beauty heretofore.
d The sun burned scorching hot upol
s the broad gravel path just outside o
! the farms pretty parlor, but within tina
# quaint room restful GOODNESS held sway
y Lounging idly in the depths of willow
chair, was Paul, while Martha, seated a
k the old organ, drew from its aged keys
low, plaintive melody. AS the last not
g died softly away, whirling round upo
: her seat, Martha exclaimed
"Do you know, Mr.. Dorsey, vol
e have been wasting the whole morning9
- don't believe you nave looked at bool
# for two days"-ths last it must b
owned, with slight air of triumph a
|, she continued, penitently; 81 am afrai
n have been to blame, but to morrow
y will leave you free to spend the Who'll
e day with your books, for Cousin Joe ha
IS promised to drive me over to Daplesto
to do some shopping"
er "Hang cousin Joe'-
< ''Mr. Dorseyp from Martha's astor
Of ished lips.
e, 81 beg pardon, I really-I hope yo
G will have delightful time, Miss Dun
IS can. assure you 1 shall a-enjoy it in
mensely being left to my books and
It confound it Excuse me /"
TX And before Martha could reply, Pal
d Dorsey had left the room.
a "How queer it is" soliloquized Ma
tina, as Paul's departing footsteps echoe
Up through the hall. 81 don't see why
ty should dislike Joe So Joe is always sue
ID favorite with every one. Ihope l haven
Zn nffnndnd him | am sure | didn1t me,