The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1885-07-09

forgot to tell the cook about having
breakfast at five tomorrow morning,
and of course she's abed and asleep by
this time. I'll be up early enough to
see to it myself, that will be just as
WELL"
Laying this salve on her conscience
Mrs. Chickerly turned off the gas, and
crept drowsily up the stairs.
"Fanny, Fanny, it's past five. and
cook hasn't como down stairs yet.
Are you sure you spoke to her last
night?"
Mrs. Chickerly rubbed her eyes and
looked sleepily around.
"Oh, Frank, forgot all about
speaking to her last night" she said
with conscience-stricken face. "But
I'll run right up-she can have the
breakfast ready in a very few min
utes.'
She sprang out of bed, thrust her
feet into pair of silk-lined slippers,
and threw a shawl over her shoulders.
Mr.. Chickerly bit his lip, and check
ed her
"No need, Fanny. said he, little
bitterly 81 must leave the house in
fifteen minutes, or miss the only
through train. It's of no use speaking
to cook now"
"rm so sorry, Frank"
Mr.. Chickerly did not answer; he
was apparently absorbed in turning
over the various articles in his bureau
drawer, while Fannie sat shivering
oh the edge of the bed, cogitating how
hard it was for her husband to start
on long journey that bitter morning,
without any breakfast.
II can make cup of coffee myself
over the furnace fire" she exclaimed,
SprlnglnS TO her leeC.
But Mr.. Chickerly again interposed.
"Sit down, Fanny, please l would
rather you would sew this button on
the neck of my shirt l have packed
the Others--those that are fit to wear.
1 have shirts enough, but not one in
repair"
Fanny crimsoned rs she remembered
how often in the course of the last
month or Two, she had solemly prom
ised herself to devote day to the
much needed renovation of her hus-
bands shirts. She looked around for
her thimble
"I left it down stairs last night.
I'll get it in a minute"
The house-maid had just kindled a
fire in the sitting room CRATE it was
blazing and cracking cheerily among
the fresh Goals, and Fanny could not
resist the temptation of pausing mo-
ment to warm her chilled fingers, and
watch the greenish purple spires of
flame shoot merrily up the chimney,
until she heard her husbands voic Q
calling her imperatively,--
"Fanny, Fanny! what are you do
ing?'
ooh, dear" thought tho wife, as she
ran up stairs. "[ wish Frank wouldn't
be so cross. Hes always In Il hurry"
Little Mrs. Chickerly never stopped
to think that the real reason was that
she, his wife, was never "in hurry"
The needle threaded, the thimble
fitted on, an appropriate button was
next to be selected.
"Oh, dear, Frank. I haven't one the
right size!'
"Sew on what you have, then but
be quick"
But Fannie was quite certain there
was just the right button somewhere
in her work-basket and stopped to
search for it.
"There. told you sol' she cried tri-
umphantly holding it up on the end
of her needle
"Well, well. sew it on quickT' said
Mr.. Chickerly, glancing at his watch
nervously.
That's just your worrying way,
Frank as if anybody could sew a
button on well in a hurry. There
my needle had come unthreaded p
"Oh, Fanny. Fanny" sighed her
husband, fairly out of patience at last,
"why didn't you do it last night, as
begged of you? l shall miss the train,
and what little chance we had of a
place in Aunt Elizabeth's will, will be
sacrificed to your miserable habit o1
being always behindhand
Fanny gave him the shirt, and be.
gan to whimper little, but Mr.. Chick
erly had neither the time nor the in.
clination to pause to soothe her petu
lent manifestation of grief. lie
finished his dressing, caught up his
valise with hurriedly spoken good
by" and ran down stairs two steps a,
a time, into the street.
, "There he goes" murmured Fanny
land he's gone away cross with me
i. and all for nothing but miserable
buttonv wish there wasn't such :
, thing as button in the world y
| "a wish which we much misdoubt
many another wife than Mrs. Chick
erly has echoed, with perhaps better
reason
{: Mrs. Chickerly was sitting down t.
her little dinner, with daintil,
Drowned chicken, a tumbler of curran