Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1886-09-17

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dogs barked that night! l busted myself
in Distinguishing the score or moro of
canine voices whose nightly bayings were
familiar in our neighborhoOd.
Now and then old Bose, our family
horse, would shake himself in his stall
and MUNICH his provender for a moment
or two, and then cease to make a living
sound.
A long story could be told of the pic
lures that were called before my mind
by the noises / heard III that single hour,
Suddenly in the midst of one of these
mental pictures, Fred's pebble fell, strik-
ing me so that pulled the string, without
thinking what | was doing.
Hurrying down the ladder l found Fred
III the lilacs.
The old clock was striking with a ner-
vous staccato that fairly made Us dance
with Joy. 1t had then struck up to
eleven. Fred had given the signal just
rs soon as the sitting room clock began to
! strike.
Flora and her caller we're engaged in a
duet, she at the piano and he with his
| flute.
As long as the music lasted we hardly
| expected they would be disturbed by the
| clock.
/ For several minutes the piano, flute and
clock kept up the peculiar trio, we boys
enjoying it with gigantic grins and chuck
1 les. Through fold in the window cur
tain we could see the faces of our VIC
/ tins.
"Ha!" whispcd Fred. Flo hears it! see!
| She thinks something's wrong with the
music"
The players kept on for a few minutes
| longer, when suddenly Flora stopped.
| The flute and clock now had it alone for
a moment and then the former ceased,
and the clock was eftmaster of the Situa-
| ton.
We were where we could see Rogers
| face plainly. The puzzled expression
that passed over it and fingered mo-
ment was indescribable. Flora had not
moved from her place, and sat with one
hand upIifted from the piano keys, listen
ing intentiy to the measured striking,
! which now seemed louder than ever.
Then we saw Rogers lips move and
| Flora turned bIushing and said something
which, of course, we could not understand.
Whatever it was they did not seem to I'm
dcrstand each other any better than we
! diu.
All of n sudden both faces turned to-
ward the sittiug-room door. Father was
coming! In moment he was III the
room, in his drcssiuggown, and holding
| a lamp, as if he had been searching the
house over for the cause of this unseemly
/ disturbances.
What he said we did not hear. 1t must
have been something severe, for Flora
| blushed rcddcr than ever and a desperate
CLEAN came into Rogers eyes.
] IN, ,,1lI y, ,,r,,
were III something of scrape. But we
were bound to enjoy it while we could and
we managed with Il sharpened stick to
pry up the window SO we could hear what
was going ON.
"What on earth does this mean, Flora
shouted father.
Poor Flora had buried her bushes in her
hands, and gave no answer.
Father looked from Flora to Roger and
back to Flora again, and said, louder than
before:
Il want m answer; what does this all
mean"
"Uh father" cried Flora, Il don't really
know, unless the sitting room clock is be
witched."
Il have stopped every clock in the
house" replied the father in stentorian
/ tones.
Rogers face turned white and red 10y
| turns; but he did not attempt to say any
/ thing. Father turned to him:
MIR. pcthiohn, can you tell me what
/ this unearthly din in my house ut near
/ ly midnight means"
| Roger had disjointcd his flute, and
/ laid each bright silver section carefully
in its place in the ebony box which he
had himself made for it. As father fin
ished his question, Roger snapped down
the cover of the box and retortcd
stitlly:
If YOU ullude to the duet which Miss
Flora and | have been practiciug, | must
at least thank you for as much of your
compliment rs includes myself. If you
alludp to the misfortune which seems to
have overtakcu your clock, excuse me if
| tell you that you or some of your
household know more about 1t than do.
wish you good evening, Mr.. Shaw. Good
evouing, Miss Shaw"
And the wrathful Mr.. Pettijohn turned
ON his heel, and Il moment later the front
door shut behind him with no uncertain
sound.
Miss Shaw. l whispered to Fred.
That's murderous, He's fearful mad, or
he never would say Miss Shaw"
Roger did not whistle as he walked
briskly down the gravel path. We could
Just see his form as he passed in the
darkness.
When we looked AGAIN into the parlor
Aunt Elizabeth, prim and straight, in her
morning wrapper, candle in hand and
her eyes swapping and cleaning like
cats back in the dark, stood between
father and Flora looking inquiringly
from one to the other. mother had also
come into the room, her face the picture
of hewilderment and des pair.
We thought 1t was time to draw the
curtain on our Joke. We carefully lower
ed the window, and taking last look at
the distressful tahleau, hurried into the
kitchen, twitched Off our boots, and has
tened up stairs. In minute we were
well abed. The clock was still striking as
we dropped of to sleep.
Our experiences next morning do not
need to he described. We were found
out OF course. Flora wore an injured air
for week. Father was stern, but we
half suspected that he inwardly approved
our course. Roger Pettijohn's ring ibid
not disturbe our doorbell for months.
When 1t was certain that Flora had van
quished all competitors for the head of
her class, Fred and managed to let him
know how misfortune" came upon our
clock. We put the works back into the
case, and with proper ceremony made
him present of it, and it was given an
honored place in his room. When at the
academy commencement Flora bore off
the valedictory, her largest bouquet had
Rogers card neatly attached with blue
ribbon.
The funniest part of the affair was that
when the clock began 10 strike on that
. memorable evening Aunt Elizabeth be-
gan counting the strokes, according TO
her invariable habit, and although she
went down into the parlor and returned
to her room after half an hour. she
avered that she had counted every stroke.
and that the clock had struck exactly 996
times. Nine hundred and uinetysix
o'clock became a family by-word.
She Knew the World.
Detroit Free Press
( Two gaudy attired ladies were observed
/ recently inspecting che colossal statue of
| Schiller. of which Chicago is pardonably
3 prau3