The Somerset reporter., 1885-03-04
Selected.
DEATH OR MARRIAGE.

The ancient clock In Deacon Shermer's
old-lashioued kitchen was slowly Ginning
the hour of nine. 1t was No smart toy, no
trifle CT bronze or alabaster, but tall,
square relic OF the last century, looking
not unlike coffin case set ON end In the
corner--a clcck that had lasted through
four generations, and judging from appear
ances, was quite likely to last through sew
eral more. Deacon Sbermer cherished the
old heirloom with sort of pride which he
himself would scarcely have confessed TO.
There was II great, rudy fire of chestnut
logs in The red, bric>-paved Fireplace; and
the candles III the brightly polished brass
stick, were winLns merrily from the high
wooden mantcl, where they shared the post
of honor with Il curious sea shell and a
couple of vases, each containing fresh
Usage Grunge, fran The hedge that skirted
the clover field behind the barn. At the
window u curtain of gaudy chiniz shut out
the tens of thousands of stars that were
shining brightly on That frosty autumnal
night and IN the cosy rug of the parii-cO-
ored rags, II fat turtoisc-shell cat purred
away tie slowly lapsing minutes. But the
tortoise-shell cat was not the only inhabi-
tant Of the snug farmhouse kitchen.
"rlmothy" said Mary Shermer, decided
ly, "if you don't behave yourself, III"
What she would do, Mary did not say !;
the sentence was terminated by laugh that
set the dimples round her mouth in motion,
Just rs II beam of June sunshine plays
across cluster of red-ripe cherries.
Mary Shermer was just Seventeen
plump, rosy girl, with jet hair, brushed
back from low forehead, end perfectly
arched eyebrows, that gave bewitchlng
expression OF surprise to pair of melting
hazel eyes. She wss rather dark; but the
severe critic would not have found fault
with the peach-like bloom upon her cheeks
and the dewy red of her full, dantily-curv-
ed lips. Evidently Mr. Timothy Marshall
was quite satisfied with Mary's style of
beauty.
"Come, Mary" said Tim, moving his
chair where he could best watch the flush
Of The tire.light upon her face, and picking
up the thread of the conversation where he
had dropped it when it became necessary
for Mary to bid him ''behave himself
"you might promise. It's nine O'Clock and
your father will soon be home"
"What, Tim?' said Mary, demurely, ft-
ting square red in her patch work, and
inIently observing The fact.
"Nonsense, Mary! You know what very
well. Promise to marry me before Christ.
mas tell you what, Mury, it is all very
we'll for you 10 keep putting 1t OF, but
can't stand it. What with your fathers
forbidding me the house and that romantic
Tom SANKEY'S coming here every Sunday
night
Mary gave her head toss. Gas II Mr..
SANKEY'S coming here made any difference
Iii my feelings, Timl"
mo, but Mary, it isn't pleasant you
know. I'm as good u man as Tom Stanley,
a.. d Tia. 4 .Ia u
account at the Hamiltonville bank and /
love you, Mary, from the very bottom OF
my hearth Now, this matter lies between
you and me only; no other person In the
world has n right to interfere between US.
Contemporaries mel He had both her
hands in his and looked earnestly into the
liquid-hazel eyes.
"Do you love me, Mary?"
"You KIN wv / love you, Tim"
"rhen we may just as WE'LL. Hush |
what's that?"
There was purteptous sound OF drawing
bolts and rafting latches in the porch-room
beyoDt-a scrapi g Of heavy boots along
the floor. Mary rose to her leet with sud-
den scarlet suffusion on her brow and
cheeks.
"Oh, Tim, it's father!"
"Suppose it Isl"
Hide yourself somewhere, do"
what nonseu>e, Mary said The young
man, resolutely standing his ground. al
haven't come to steal his spoons. Why
should creep away like detected bur
glarp"
"For my sake, Tim. Oh, Tim, If you
ever loved me, do rs l say! Not in that
closet; it is close to his bed room; not
through that window; it is nailed down
tight. He's coming! he's coming! Here,
Tim, quickp
And 10 the drawing Of breath, she had
pushed Timothy Marshall into the square
pendulum case of the tall old clock aud
turned the key on him.. 1t was not a
pleasant place of refuge, inasmuch as his
shoulders were squeezed on either side and
his head fattened against springs aud
wheels above, and the air WAS unpleasant
and close; but Tim made the best of mat
tiers, and shook with suppressed laughter
In his solitary prison cell.
"Welli y jolly scrape to be Ia" thought
Tim; land no knowing when I'll be out of
II. Mary's n shrewd little puss, however,
and can't do better than to leave matters
10 her hands"
$50 you haven't gone to bed yet, Mary2"
said Deacon Shermer. slowly unwinding
the two yards Of woolen scarf with which
he generally encased his throat OF an even
ing.
mot yet, father" said Mary, picking up
her scattered bits Of patchwork with a
glowing cheek. ibid you have = pleasant
Ine@ting~
swell, yes" quoth the Deacon, reflect
ivoly, sitting down before the Dire, greatly
70 Marys eOnsternati0n-she had hoped he
would have gone 10 bed At once, according
to bis usux, cuslom-''it was torbly pleas
ant. Elder Huskier was there and Eide
Hopkins-Apd-wsll, oil ths church folks
pretty much. Why, how red your cheeks