The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, 1886-11-02
BLUE

~obN" ilSN uDOl
the terrestrial ball, it was this thirteenth
day of September, 18-.
The equinoctial had come before its
time, with a rush of angry rain borne on
the wings o. a morning wind; the kitch-
en- chimney smoked rancorously, and the
scuttle leaked a steady "drip, drip, dripl"
directly over the roses and tulips of the
restroom carpet.
IA regular spell of weather." said Mr..
Crayfsh, chuckling, as he shaved him
self, with n of the children playing
horse with his s%uspenders, and the other
packing differentiated marbles into the
toe of his slipper.
But Mr.. Crayfsh, as his wife scornfu!-
~ remarked, would chuckle at anything.
81 am sure I don't know what is to
become of me" said she, sorrowfully.
with Bridget gone, and the 1auge out
OF order, and this terrible rain, and not
a washerwoman to be had for love or
money! And your Aunt Pamela writing
that she is coming here to spend the win
ter, and my report not yet written for
Inc Woman's Elevation Society, and
Mrs Ponsonby sending word that she
shall expect me to give an aesthetic tea,
or a literary breakfast, in honor of young
Lord Ernest Elberon, now that he is
here gathering material for his book on
'Woman's Upward Progress"
"Hang progress!" said Mr.. Crayfsh,
emptying the marbles out of his slipper
toe.
Eyes, that's just like you, Leander,"
said Mrs. Crayfsh, ~fretfully. eff you
had your way, you would tread us all
under foot, like inferior beings"
sin the meantime" said Crayfsh, sTd
like my breakfast"
And his wife went slowly and despond-
entity down stairs, wondering how she
,sh0nN get word to the plumber about
the range.
But tho milkman, opportunity present.
ing himself, volunteered to leave an order
at the plumbers shop.
81 must get something done on the re-
port to-day" she pondercd, as she sliced
up potatoes for frying. "Mrs. Edge
worth, from Chicago, is to be at to-
morrow's meeting, and Oh, dearl" as
the knife slipped, inflicting a sharp little
cash on her finger. 81 knew there was
destined to be a blue Monday when the
decorated lamp-shade cracked, all of
itself, before daylight this morningr
And Mrs. Crayfsh, forgetting all about
her elevation" and "Aims," burst into
tears, as any milk-maid might have
done.
The range obstiuately declined to cook;
the chimney poured clouds of smoke
down into Mrs. Crayfsh's face; and the
family breakfasted upon yesterdays oat-
meal, with a little milk.
''Is this @stheticW said Mr.. Crayfish:
"or is it literaryW
"Leander, how can you9" sobbed his
wife.
"TH stop myself and jog that
plumbers memory" said Mr.. Crayfsh.
good humoredly. "Don't fret. Carry
1t will be all right"
II wish you would not call me Garry
when my name is Carolinaw said Mrs.
Crayfsh.
Just at noon the door-bell rang.
"Who is it7" shrieked Mrs. CrayAsh.
to the little Crayfshe who were stretch
ing their necks out of tho front wind ow
sits a young man, with a black
leather bag, mai" shouted back the
youthful scions of the race.
THAT everlasting pumberp said Mrs.
Crayfsh.
'pll teach himp
And with her kitchen apron swallow
Ing her in its sombre folds, and her hair
all bristling in porcupine papers, Mrs.
Crayfsh hurried to the door.
dol address Mrs. Leandcr Cray
ftshF" began the young man.
II should rather think you didw said
Mrs. CrayHsh, tartly. "And if this is
the way you intend to transact business.
| want nothing more to do with your
am very sorroy, ma'am, but
dare sayp CURLY interrupted
Mrs. Crayfsh. "But I don't want to
listen to any excuses. Be so very good,
u you please, as to come down stairs at
one and get to work, without further
loss Of timer
And che led the way ldown to tho
kitchen, talking volubly as she went.
But before she could explain tho man