The Osceola times., 1886-08-07

7 q
Eunice," he says, "but as for the rest.
there naught to fret about. I'll come
and see thee tomorrow -
And he went of smiling and waving
ms hand rs he turned down bv the
copse. Then the corncrako began again.
croak, croak, all round the meadow
and / sat and watched mother with A
heavy heart till the stars came out. and
Young moon lying on her back, which
was an i'll sign, for you know the say
ing:
When the moons like a boat,
There is trouble ailoat
But | hoped it might not be for me.
The corncrake had gone and there was
nanght to be heard save the rustling o.
the grass and trees The wind had
turned little chill, so | closed the lat
llce ana lay me down by mother while
had been asleep some time, for the
moon was low in the sky and the dawn
breaking when | awoke with hearing a
irampling o feet coming down the lane.
listened, and the trampl,ng came
nearer and sounded hcayy-lke, as if
they were carrying something. 1t
stopped at the gate, and then heard
the click o. the latch. Mothers room
was at the back, SO it was no use to look
out o the lattice. was creeping softly
down stairs, when mother awoke and
asked If father had come in.
81 think he's coming now, MOTHER
/ SAID. 'Ill fetch thee a cup o. tea.n
and went down and opened the door.
and there stood one o. the keepers.
William Balshaw, as married my cousin
Anne.
where's father?" | said, trying to
look past him,
"see now, Eunice," he says, Chou
nun keep "A brave heart lass. How is
thy mother?'
shes no better, and asking for
father"
well, thou nun, puther off. I've i'll
news for thee, poor lass; thy mother
must know naught Of it. There been
a bit o fight with them Northover chaps.
an'-an we've browt thy father home"
My heart seemed TO turn TO q stone.
"ls father killcd?' | asked. Thou
may as well tell me, William"
AYE, hat is so. Im main sorry for
thee, Eunice. I'll tell EN- to bring him
in and lay him on the settle here, and
I'll send Anne round to thee"
With that they carried father in and
laid him on the settle. He was very
pcaceful-like to look at. William said
he had been shot in the chest, and died
quite quiet aud easy. But all the while
| seemed TO know there was more to
hear aye, and worse, for when was
STOPPING DER father one o the men
said something to William that d dn't
rightly catch, and William says back to
him. speaking low: NAY. there's no
call 70 say more jus now, poor lass; itll
do by-and-by.' With that they vent
away. aad took mother her tea, feel
ing all da1ed-likc.
rNherc'J thy father, Eunice?" she
say@.
An answered her:
He coming mp presently, mother
and then she tcll asleep again, being
:ery weak.
So the day wore on. and Cousin Anne
c4mc, and Squire Lawson and some
otncr gentlemen; but | didn't see them,
for William were round again, and he
told lhcm all about father. When they
were gone | left Anne sitting with
mother and went down to- William and
asked h,m how it came about that father
was shot
There was bit o fight with tn
poachers lass, an one o them had a
gun
"Was ihoro only one gun, William9"
| says.
"Only one, lass. dunnot think thy
father was shot o purpose. were all
in he thick o the bother We were
hghtin' with ash-sticks, an thy father
were in the midst, when the chap with
tn gun let fly at us, an the ,bot hit thy
father. That's how it wvre done,
Eun ce.'
And where is he that did it?' says.
loo.in' out o. the window.
Hes away, lass. In hiding some
where. There's no call for thee 10 fret
about that. Most Ike hon get away to
furrin parts. ! see thou gucsses who it
is, Eunicc. It's main hard for thee
he says. taking my hand, meaning
kindly. for lie was Il good man, was
William. But pulled my hand away
and ran out into the fields. ID was get
ting on for sundown then, and as
leant against the fence feeling sick and
giddy-like, the corncrakc began croak-
ing in tie long grass, as Il had done
over night. And thought of ycstereye.
when Tom stood there with his gun and
| tried to turn him away from those
who led him astray. 1t had all ended
now; father was dead and mother
was dying. and Tom-but ! wodld not
thiak of Tom Then Anne came out to
me, saying mother was asking for me,
SO | went in, and mother looked at me
and said;
"Thou art a good lass. ! think thy
father is dead | draamt it just now
and thou art hiding il. 'Ts no matter;
| shall know soon. The Lord bless
thee. Eunica"'
And after that she went into n sort o
faint, and died. 50 father and mo her
were both buried on the same day, and
II was settled that | should 90 and live
with my Aunt Deborah, some six miles
away: William was to drive me over that
same evening. Wen. at sunduwn, all
the things beng packed, and nothing
left to do. went through the field tothe
sdc O. the brook. whore | had used TO
meet Tom. and there ! sat on a fallen
tree. thinking of all the trouble, and
how my lie seemed dead and buried
with father and mother. Close by me
was thick clump o palm, willows, an
dog-roscs, an grass all a-tanglc, reach
inc DER the bank; an when I'd sat
thinking a while, heard a rustling, an
a voice saying: "Eunice, lass" | knew
e. .