The Grenada gazette. (Grenada, Miss.) 1885-18??, 1885-11-14

INV ~ ioi thS SIP IL Sto"cu AVN was
give me by Grigson the very first year
we vas married"
And as she was not invited to stay to
tea, Miss Ketchum at last went away.
leaving Mrs. Grgson sitting sorrowful-
ly before the fire of discarded barrel
slaves, ruinous packing boxes, ancient
chair legs and wooden stools which had
absolutely refused to be made capable
of further service. Aunt M%ittable'-
which name was a peryersion Of the
good old New England pranomen
Northumberland been all the mother
she hsd known. and it seemed lone
some enough to be sitting there in the
empty house with Aunt NJ table tucked
away in a corner of the frozen church.
yard. Her husband was dead, and her
three little children were struggling up
in the world as best they could. She
had had a position as janitress in a pub
lie school, but she had lost it when she
CAME to Mullen Farm to nurse Aunt Nit
table in her last illness; and now she
scarcely knew which way to turn.
Brother Lyman, her only living relative,
was poorer than herself "a good-heart-
ed, empty-pocketed man, who occupied
some position on a sailing vessel which
piled between Boston and the Azores
Islands. There was Il mortgage or the
place which had swallowed up all as
pirations in the direct on of sell ng Il,
and Mrs. Grigson family hoped that the
auction sale might help to pay the eS.
pcnses Of her old aunt's burial. Other,
wise she did not, to use her W express
sion. "see her way clear"
Mrs. GrigSon was not a sentimental
list. A janitrcss in a public school
building, with foretingcr roughened by
the coarsest needlc-work. and mind mar
rowed down by the daily trcad-mlll OF
the most groveling cares, has not much
time for that sort of indulgence; but as
she sat there, drinking an infusion of
the weakest tea. and watching the yell
low March moonl ght lay the perfect
pattern of the uncurtained window on
the carpetless floor. while the bar ell
slaves smouldered into carmine-tinted
ashes, she could but remember the days
when she had hoped for such a different
life.
II was a gal then thought Mrs.
Grigson. ut didn't seem as if there
was anything impossible, Well, well,
| s'pose most folks are disappointed
Jest as bad as | be, eff they live long
enough"
And then the poor widow went to bed
to keep warm; and all night long the
yellow moonlight flooded the solitary
room where Aunt Mittable had died,
and q solitary cricket sang on the
hearth-stone where the red ashes had
long since faded into white dust.
The morrow dawned wild, bright
and windy, as March mornings often
come rushing over the bleak Connect,
cut Interests. The auctIoneer arrived
in a one-hor>e buggy from the village:
the ncighbors assembled from all the
points of the compass. For in Feltville
-Four Corners people entertained the
same sentiment toward an auction sale
as New Workers feel toward a private
view of the Academy Of Design. or a
flower show at the Madison Square
Garden. Miss ketchum was there ir
her best dyed shawl, and the bonnie
which the irreyerent youth OF thu
~neirhborhOod had chri,tened "Olt
Plymouth Rock from the fossilizcl
appearance of its feathers; Squire Dag
gctt drove down in his family-carry-al
with the six Misses Daggett. The par
son and the parsons wife were there
punching pillows and inspectin
holsters and counting cups and saucerS
A mar who vas vaguely reported to b
an emissary from an old curiosity sho
in the city was prowling about with
memorandum-book under his arm
Everybody was there, even down to tn
village fool, who had been allowed t
come with his grandmother, unde
solemn promise of mot speaking
word the whole time In her speci'
corner Abigail Barton was whispcrln
to a knot of eager women with muc
excited gesticulation, and close by tn
high wooden mantcl sat poor Mr.
Grigsun in her best gown, trembling
little, she scarcely knew why.
Aunt Mittable was always partial
auction vendoos,' said she to herscl
at does seem as eff shc'd ought to |
here
And she thought OF the lonely graz
under last years weedy mullen stall
in the neglected corner of the churcI
yard, and sighed.
) ''Ill set a rose O Sharon there
soon as the spring fairly opens muse
she. Aunt Mittable always like
!, flowers
And the crowd around Abigail Ba
ton increased, and a sort of intangib
Z thrill went through the rooms like {
= electric current.
) as anything wrong'" Mrs. Grigst
> asked, ~nervously. ''Hev they heard al
=, news:?'
4 Il seen it myself she could he
Abigail saying; ''l've got it to hum
my pocket-book. I've always hea'
that she was queer, and | shouldn
/. ,rn,,In, &c tbaf upae thn Iyav che ri hno