Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1885-11-09

Azores islands. There was a mort
gage on the place which had swallow
ed up all aspirations in the direction
of selling it, and Mrs. Grigson faint
ly hoped that the auction sale might
help to pay the expenses of her old
aunt's burial. Otherwise she did not.
to use her own expression, ''see her
way clear"
Mrs. Grigson was not sentiment
alist. A janitress in a public
school building, with forefinger
roughened by the coarsest needle
work, and mind narrowed down by
the daily tread-mill 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
yehow March moonlight lay the pat
tern of the uncurtained window on
the floor, while the barrel slaves
smouldered into carmine tinted ashes,
she could but remember the days
when she had hoped for different
life.
II was a gal them thought Mrs.
Grigson. ''It didn't seem as if there
was anything impossible. WE'LL
we'll, | s'pose most folks are disap-
p'inted 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 Militia
BILE had died, and solitary crick-
ct sang on the hearthstone
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 Connec-
ticut hiIlcrests. The auctloneer az
rived in a one-horse buggy from the
village; the neighbors assembled
from all points of the compass. For
in Feltville Four Corners people en-
tertained the same sentiment towards
an auction sale as New Workers feel
toward a private view of the Acade-
nv of Design, or a flower show at the
Madison Square Garden. Miss
Ketchum was there in her best dyed
shawl, and the bonnet which the IL
reverent youth of the neighborhood
had christened ''Old Plymouth Rock, >
from the fossilized appearance of its
feathers; Squire Daggett drove dowr
in his family carry-all with the siA
Misses Daggett. The parson ano
the parsons wife were there, punch
ing holsters and inspecting pillows
and counting cups and saucers. a
man who was vaguely reported to b'
an emisary from an old curiosity shol
in the city was prowling about with
memorandum-bo under his arm
Everybody was there, even down tt
the village fool, who had been allow
ed to come with his grandmother
under solemn promise of ''not speak
ing a word the whole time" In he
special corner Abigail Barton wa
whispering to knot of eager womel
with much excited gesticulation, ant
close by the high wooden mantel sa
poor Mrs. Grigson in her best gown
trembling a little, she scarcely knew
why.
''Aunt Mittable was always par
tial to auction vendoos," said she t
herself. ''It does seem as eff she'
ought to be here
And she thought of the lionel
grave under last years weedy mul
lein stalks in the neglected corner o
the church-yard, and sighed.
"T'll set rose O Sharon there a
soon as the spring fairly opens,
mused she. s'Aunt Mittable alway
liked flowers"
And the crowd around Abiga
, Barton increased, and sort of in
tangible thrill went through the room
like an electric current.
is anything wrong?" Mrs. Grig
son asked nervously. 'Hev the
heard any news?"
s'I seen it myself" she could hea
Abigail saying "I've got it to hur
} in my pocketbook. Pve always hear
that she was queer, and | shouldn'
) wonder if that was the way She
} boarded up"
, Mrs. Grigson rose to join th
group; but just then the auctioneer'
l voice drowned all else in its higt
: sing-song drone: "Now, then, ladie
and gentlemen, if you please" an
the sale began IN good earnest.
[ The breadths of well-worn rag cal
e pet brought pitiful sum, but th
: four hair-cloth "cheers" in the bes
e parlor, and a certain uncompromis
ing sofa of the same slippery mater
y al, realized twenty dollars, and th
t wooden clock was bid up to six do
3 lars and a half by Squire Dagge
: himself.
2 ''He can't know that the machlr
: ery's clear worn out, and it hair
: struck in six MONTHS" said Mr.:
+ Grigson. II don't know but it's m
h duty to tell him.
s'Hold your tongue, Naomi, - whi'
: pered brother Lyman, who, with h
hands in his pockets, was flattene
e up against the wall. Il guess a
: the neighhors hereabouts know q
,nuoh .Ia..4 A4 NT;+toblo,C olook 4.