Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1886-06-11

| ; =" iii0"H- -HllhA tmef ] good-ior.
no'hlng my pongee handkerchief. that
you nave stolen right out of my bagl
Well, neverln
! one shook Phpbe vehemently. Phoebe
Desan to cry in mingled terror and re-
sentiment, and Just then up drove the
iarm wagon at gallop.
Hello, mother!1 said Ezra Pilkinr-
tons cheerful voice. 'I'm afraid I've
kept you waiting bit, but the hnchpin
came out Of the wheel, and had to ston
at Tony Dcephilrs to get it fixed. Now,
thcnm
lie drove the stout pony close to the
raised platform which extended away
from the station.
Mrs. Pilkington pushed Phoebe into
the back seat, and followed her with
-'sssatning haste.
"Not that waym she cried, grasping
at the reins as Ezra would have headed
ior the highroad. "Drive straight to
Squire Pultencys. This gals thief!
I'm going to have her arrested before she
is day older"
"Eh" said Ezra, staring from his
mother to Phoebe, and then back again.
"She's stole my spotted pongee hand
kerchief-my handkerchief that | bought
bargain on Grand Street this very morn
ing" shrieked Mrs. Pilkington.
'Its-its my handkerchief" faltered
poor Phoebe, feeling as if she were in
terrible nightmare from which there was
no awakening.
"A likely story!" clamored the enraged
housewife. 'Tye always heard of the
wiles and tricks of these city minxes, but
never realized it until now. Drive on,
Ezra-drive quick She shall be lodged
in the county Jail this very nlghtp
"Are you sure you amt mistaken,
mother?' said kind Ezra, compassionating
the look Of pallid misery in the young
| girls face.
Mistaken, indeedw shifted the old
lady. 'tDrive on, say Don't lose any
more time, or Squire Pulteney will have
gone home for the night
She herself took possession of the reins
and she spoke and chirrupcd to the
horses.
But, mother pleaded Ezra.
Even as he spoke, however, poor
Phoebe, driven wild by vague terror and
an instructive desire to escape, had flung
herself from the wagon to the ground.
Stop for heavens sake, mother,
stopm shouted Ezra. "Don't you see
chat her dress is caught in the wheels?r
|. The little horse stopped. He always
lAmTAsed, on general principles, whenevel
fasuitable opportunity presented itself
and the very slightest 'fWhoa" woulc
Invariably bring him to dead standstill
ezra sprang from the wagon to Olsen
taglc the helpless figure in the dust, anC
Ms. Pilxington scrambled after with
vague idea that Phoebe might yet get VI
anil try to run away.
As she jumped down her satchel fel
pnne into the road, and bursting oper
the overstrained latch, disgorged its con
tents on the dewy grass of the roadside
fist and foremost among which was
spotted pongee handkerchief.
"Good Land o'Moses!" piously inter
jected Mrs. Pilkington, "if there aim
the drafted old pongee handkerchief
arter allm
And she stared helplessly, first at it
prim and undisturbed folds, and then a
Ph9be's handkerchief--ex exactly the sam
in color, pattern and fabric.
'She amt thief, arter all!n said Mrs
Pilkington, her whole nature OVERLOADED
by the rising tide of remorse. "Poo
child! and I'm afeard she's hurt a-tryin
to run away from nothing at ALL"
Phebes ankle was slightly sprained
that was all, and by this time she wa
able to smile and answer kindly Mrs
PHkington's numerous questions and con
dolences.
Can | ride home? Oh, of course
! can' said she, in reply to Ezra's interro
: cations. My ankle is only the least bi
lame.
! Old Farmer Pilkington was anxiousl
! looking out for them, when, considerabl
later than he had expected, the wago
drove up and Mrs Pilkington made hast
to explain everything to him.
and amt it queer said she, "tha
me and Phoebe should both hev bougb
pongee handkerchiefs just alike o
Grand Street2 If ever there was ban
bains, they BEL Half yard square, res
China goods, with hem-n
"Fiddlesticks!' said old Mr.. Pilkina
ton 'lf there's anything I hate, it
bargainslo y
Little Phoebe Primrose stayed on at tb
iarm. She liked the daisies and re
clover, the sound of running brooks, tn
smell of the cows breath. And-Ezr
Pllkington liked her. = Helen Forre,