Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1885-11-02


her, and fellow can't get a chance
to look at her. let alone speaking to
her," he said to himself in disgust,
after prowling around in the vicinity
of Miss Browns in endeavor to see
Mary; ssand as for outwitting the
old party, the Evil One himself could
not do that. I have it, though, by
Joye! I know what I'll do-Pl
write to her y
To write was, of course, an easy
enough matter, but to get the letter
into Mary's hand without her aunt
being any the wiser for it was quite
another thing.
ssBut. where there's will there's
a way and by dint of a great deal
of persuasion and various promises
that her part in the transaction
should never be divulged, and so thus
incur the wrath of her mistress, he
induced a small maid-of- -all-work of
Miss Browns to deliver the letter
and bring back Mary's answer. The
girl declared, however, that she would
not undertake such job again on
any conditions.
Just what these letters contained |
am unable to say; but that rather
clear understanding was arrived at
we may judge by the fact that few
days after John wrote another letter,
this time informing Mary that he had
engaged a carriage and driver from
the neighboring village, SIX miles
| distant, and that this carriage would
be in waiting just behind a grove of
maple trees, at precisely l o'clock
the next night This letter he had
to trust to the tender mercies of the
post.
They'll never think of me writing
to her, living as near each other as
we do" he soliloqulzed as he started
off to post the letter, ''and we'll get
ahead of them yet.
That morning, while John was
away, the squire was leaning on the
road fence talking with one of his
neighbors.
"Well, Deacon he said, as his
neighbor made a motion towards
leaving him, ssI thinks likely the
colt will suit me, an I'll send John
over this afternoon to look at her.
I'd go myself, only I've got the back
field of 'taters to hoe, and hired help
you know amt worth much, less'n
you are with 'em yourself. An then
Johns a master good hand at jedgin'
hosses, and eff he thinks the colt'll
do, I'll take her.
'sHow does John take to farming,
anyway" asked the deacon, paus
ing as he was turning away.
"Wa'll he doesn't do bad, consid
ering l s'pose, bein' as he's not used
to the work, an he's allus had some
thin easier to work at. But-he
added fretfully-''he does fool away
an amazin' sight of his time with
writin' an things of that kind.
Deacon Perkins turned to hide a
smile that was spreading itself over
his good-natured lcountenance.
"Strange if John stays with that
old chap a great while," he muttered
as he walked down the road; ''and
he won't, either, that's sure case.
a saint could not get along with him
for more than week."
'sSeen anything of John, Nancy?"
asked the squire, as he entered the
house.
eyes, he went up to his room an
hour or so ago, an L guess he's up
there yet," answered his sister.
"S'pose he's up there wastn' his
time writin' some kind O. trash,"
muttered the squire as he assembled
the stairs and entered his Lephew's S
room.
But in this he was mistaken. John
was nowhere to be seen, though the
table and floor were strewn with pa
pers and scraps of writing.
"Jest as I thought" growled the
old man, picking up one of the scraps
of paper. "Now he's been spendin'
an hour or two over this blasted po-
etry, or
The old man stood and stared at
the writing, his sentence unfinished.
1t was part of letter he held in his
hand-a part with neither beginning
or end, but containing enough to
make his eye blaze with anger. He
looked around and found the other
pieces of the letter, and spread them
out on the table, where he had no
difficulty in reading them. Here the
reason for the writer destroying the
letter became apparent; large ink
blot disfgured one corner of it.
s'The Internal scoundrel p' he
cried.-"So he writes to Mary Allen,
does he? Intends to elope with her
tomorrow night, eh? Tells her he'll
have kerridge ready at 'leven
o'clock A very nice plan, indeed
but I'll put stop to that-I'll wait
here till he comes 'n.then Tll-but /
won't nuther," he continued, as
new idea struck him; ''I'll 60 down
and go to work.
And SO the squire shouldered his
hoe and started for the back field of
staters."
That very afternoon Miss Brown
went to the post-office and got the
| I