The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-09-23
A Newspaper File.

A Newspaper File.
1t was two days after Aunt Priscilla's
funeral, and Sue and / were sitting
together by the kitchen fire, with that
hush over our spirits still which fol-
lows a death and burial. All the
afternoon we had been busy in getting
the house to rights, not meddling vet
with the things which had been hers,
and were now ours, but, by dint of open
windows, sunshine and furniture busted
and rearranged, trying to restore to the
rooms that familiar look which they
had lost during these weeks of anxiety
and trouble. A few days more and we
must face future which was full of
terrors. Meanwhile, custom as well as
inclination accorded brief respite in
which to think of her who was gone.
and of each other, with the clinging
fondness of those whose lives, never
before parted, were about to separate.
Sue sat on low stool, her head
against the chimney lamb. 1t was the
chimney of Aunt Priscilla's youth; she
never would alter it-one of the wide.
old-fashioned kind. with pot-hooks and
blazing logs, and a bake-oven at one
side. The ot-blackened bricks and
faint red glow made background for
my sisters head, with its great twist of
fair hair and lily-like slender throat.
Sue is very pretty-prettier than any
body / ever saw. / recolected a pic
ture as 1 looked at her-a picture
OF Cinderella sitting in just such an at
titude by the chimney-side. She was
equally picturesque at that moment; so
far as looks go, equally worthy of
prince; but, alas! no fairy god-mother
was likely to emerge from the apple
room for her benefit. Aunt Pris, who,
in small way, had enacted that part
towards us, was gone, and her big
rocking-chair, which we had no heart
to sit in, swung empty in it's accustomed
place-type of like emptiness which
we were conscious of in other things,
and would feel for long time to come
Neither of us spoke for awhile. We
were tired and spiritless, and John
Slade was coming presently to talk over
things, so we saved our words.
DIR. Slade-John-was Sues lover.
Their poor little engagement had been
formed two years ago. How many
years it was likely to last nobody could
guess; but they held on to it bravely
and were content to wait. Pretty soon,
as we sat waiting, his step sounded
without on the gravel, and with little
tap-cOurteous but unnecessary, for the
door was never locked-he entered.
gave Sue gentle kiss, me another, and
sat down between us in aunty's rock
lng-chair. 1t was a comfort to have
him do that. The house seemed less
fOrlorn at once.
Well, children, how has the day
gomez" he asked.
"Pretty WE'LL" replied Sue. "We
have been busy and are tired tonight,
think. Pm glad you are come, John
dear. We are getting lonely and dis
NAL, Cree and l."
Lucretia is my name, but Sue and
Aunt Priscilla always called me "Cree."
John adjusted stick on the embers,
and with one daring poke sent tongue
of bright flame upward before he an
swered. Then he took Sues hand in
his broad palm, and, patting it gently,
said:
"Now let's talk over matters. We
ought to decide what we are to do, we
three"
That "three" was very comforting
to me, but John always is a comfort.
He was "made So" Aunt Pris said.
And he certainly carries out the pur-
pose of his creation.
did your aunt leave any will?" he
went on.
"Only this" and l brought from
between the leaves of the big Bible,
where we had found it, half sheet of
note-paper, on which dear aunty had
stated, in her own simple form, that
she left all she had to be equally di-
vided between her nieces, Susan and
Lucretia Pendexter. Squire Packard's
name and Sarah Brackets, our old
washer-woman, were written below as
witnesses.
every WE'LL" said John. "That's
good in law, fancy; or, if not, you
are the nearest relatives, and it's yours
anyway. What property did your aunt
own besides this house?"
g She had an annuity of two hun
dred fifty year. and fifty dollars more
from some turnpike stock. That's all,
except the house and furniture, and
there is mortgage of three hundred
dollars on that. Squire Packard holds !
it. The annuity stops now, doesn't it?''
John looked as though he wanted to
whistle, but RETAINED.
" Your aunt was clever manager"
he said-"a capital manager. She
made very little go a great way,
didn't she? l don't know any one else
who could live on three hundred a
year with mortgage interest taken
out. You have always seemed cozy
and comfortable.
eve always have been. But we had
the garden, you know, and the COW,
that gave us two-thirds of our living.
Aunty was wonderful housekeeper,
though. Isn't it great deal cheaper
to feed women than men9 She always
said So"
81 suppose it is. Men are carnivo-
rous. A diet of tea and vegetables
don't suit them very well; they are apt