The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-03-04

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thought you were nice then, and wanted
to take you in my arms the moment
you smiled at me-"
And now?"
And now / think you a bad-tem-
pered, selfish, wilful, unreasonable little
girl"
" Indeed" and l wrenched my hand
away, but not before he had kissed
it with the most provoking GOODNESS.
'Then well part unless you change
your opinion Immediately, and promise
never to speak to Meta Brooke again"
" shall make no such silly promise,
Barbara" Good graciousl the idea of
his calling me Barbaral "I have
promised to drive her to the depot to-
morrow"
"You return to the city together?"
eve return by the same train, as we
have done dozen times before"
Goo" said l, almost beside myself
with rage. 81 never want to see you
again"
care you quite sure, Barbara" he
asked" quite sure? / think you had
better wait for day or two before you
Danish me. If by the day after to.mor-
row-your birthday-you still hate
| ult, Stlltl lllC WOIu W llldb CnCCb, anu L
will, the moment your note is read, &C
cept a position offered me this morning,
and start for home beyond the sea.
Good night, Miss Darling"
" Good night, Mr.. Ditto"
And he strobe away up the road, and
l picked up my ring and stole into the
house, and cried as though my heart
would break. 1t was so cruel of him to
be unkind to poor little thing like me.
The next morning, as | sat on the
front porch darning the children's stock
ings-dear mel it seems to me every
time stocking darning time comes
around there never could be another
family with as many legs as ours-An-
thony drove past with Meta Brooke at
his side.
hid behind the stocking basket I'M
til they were out of sight, and then l
flew to my desk and wrote as bitter a
note as a woman twice my size could
have written, and l sent it to the village
postoffice that very evening by our little
servant maid.
Our little servant maid is pretty lit
tie maid, with large, honest, gray eyes,
small, red mouth, bright chestnut
hair, pleasant smile, neat, plump
figure, and remarkably CHEEKY dispo-
sition. And a clever little maid she is,
tOo-can wash and iron and cook and do
hundred other things; but she pos
sesses one taste which interferes sadly
with the performance of her domestic
duties-the most insatiate hunger for
literature, which she gratifies whenever
she finds an opportunity, in season and
out of season, morn, noon or night.
Potatoes and stews are burned, bread
cake and pies baked to cinders, doors
left open all night, breakfast delayed,
luncheon forgotten, dinners served too
early or too late-all on account of this
love of reading which characterizes our
little servant-maid.
She nearly drowned the baby once,
while giving her bath, by letting the
darling's head slip under the water,
while she devOured story in HARPER s
Weekly she had taken from table near
by. She let my canary escape while
she removed his empty seed-cup with
one hand, and held Helen's Babies
the book. She spilled the soup one
dinner-time over papa's immaculate
white vest, while trying to peep at the
magazine he was glancing over. She
set the hot fat-iron on our best damask
tablecloth, and left it there to indelibly
imprint its triangular portrait, while
she hastily read an interesting murder
case in the morning paper.
She could scarcely be got out of bed
mornings, because she was tired and
sleepy from reading the book she had
distracted from the bookcase the night
before, and when she did get up she
actually sat before the dreary-looking
stove for half an hour or so, intently
perusing the various scraps of news
paper with which she should have been
lighting the fire.
In short, if she had not been the
most devoted, sunny, unselfsh, fond
of-us-all little creature, it would have
been utterly impossible for us to have
stood the many mishaps and disasters
that sprang from our servant-maid's de-
votion to literature. AS it was, papa
said to her when she drenched him with
soup, Another occurrence of this ma
ture, and you 60" And mamma said
to her when she nearly drowned the
baby, g Really, Eleanor, if anything as
dreadful as this happens again, we must
part' And | said to her when she
freed my song bird, " The very next
wrong thing you do while reading
and l made significant pause and
looked.
eyes, Miss" said Nellie, meekly,
with the tears in her gray eyes, which
didn't prevent her, as soon as she
reached the kitchen, bursting out with
">yhy, why, why didst thou leave
me?'' to tune made up of strange
combination of cold Dan Tucker and
, the " Russian Hymn"
But with the exception of turkey
aicely roasted and sent to the table re-
tanning its crop and one or two other
superAuous appendages to turkey
when roasted, on account of Red as q
Rose is She, and forgetting to put the
: yeast in the bread one night because
! East Lynne lay beside the bread bowl
, Nellie had got into no trouble for sew
! eral months, and had gladly said to me
, the morning of the very day sent thai
, horrid letter, $50, Miss, l shall be
with you another birthday, after all
and isn't that Monarch of Minking Lane
lovely? l read little bit of it when
l was busting the parlor, Miss
+ Well, to go back to naughty Barbara
I standing by the window, and gazins
q out into the street.