Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1886-06-02

you have stolen right out of my bagl
Well, Ineverw l
She shook Phoebe vchcmcntly. Phoebe
began to cry in mingled terror and re-
sentiment, and just then up drove the
farm wagon at gallop.
"Hcllo,' mothcrm said Ezra Pilking-
tons cheerful voice. "l'm afraid I've
kept you waiting bit, but the linchpin
came out of the wheel, and l had to stop
at Tony Dcephilps to get it fixed. Now,
thenw
He 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
lightning haste.
"Not that woy!' she cried, grasping
at the rcins, as Ezra would have headed
for the highroad. "Drivc straight to
Squire Pultcncy's. This gals a tMcl!
I'm going to have her arrested before she
is day oldcrw
"Eh" said Ezra, staring from his
mother to Phoebe, and then back again.
"She's stole my spotted rongcc hand
kcrchicr-my handkerchief that | bought
a bargain on Grand Street this very morn.
ing" shrclicd Mrs. PilI;ington.
'It's-it's my handkerchief" laltcrcd
poor Phoebe, feeling rs if she were in q
terrible nightmare from which there was
no awakening.
"a likely story" clamorcd the cnragcd
housewife. GIVE Away, heard Of the
wilcs and tricks Of these city mnycs, but
never realized it until now. Drive on,
Ezra-drivc quick! She shall be lodged
in the county Jail tins very night"
care you sure you aiu't mistaken,
mothcrl' said kind Ezra, compassionating
the look of pallid misery in the young
girls face.
"NIstakcn, indccdm shifted the old
lady. "Drivc on, say, Don't lose any
more time, or Squire Pultcncy will have
gone home for the night"
She herself took possession of the rein
and she spoke and chimupcd to the
horses.
'But, mother" pleaded Ezra.
Even as he spoke, however, poor
Phoebe, driven wild by vague terror and
m instructive desire TO escape had flung
herself from the wagon to the ground.
"Stop- for heavens sake, mother,
stop" shouted Ezra. 'Don't you sec
that her dress is caught in the whccls?H
The little horse stopped lie always
stopped, on general principles whenever
a suitable opportunity presented itself,
and the very slightest "Whoaw would
invariably bring him to a dead stondstilI.
Ezra sprang from the wagon to Olsen.
tanglc the helpless figure in the dust, and
Mrs. PiIkington scrambled after with a
vague idea that Phoebe might yet get up
and try to run away.
As she jumped down her satchcl fell
prone into the road, and bursting open
the ovcrstraincd latch, disgorgcd its con-
tents on the dcwy grass Of the roadside,
first and foremost among which w0s-a
spotted pongcc handkerchief
Good Land o'Moscs!' pionsly inter
iccted Mrs. Plkington, "if there amt
the drafted old pongcc handkerchief,
artcr all'
And she stared hclpcssly, first ut its
prm and undisturbcd folds, and then at
Ph@bc's handkerchief exactly the same
in color, pattern and fabric.
"Shc amt a thief, artcr all,' said Mrs.
Pilkington, her whole nature overlooked
by the rising tile of rcmorsc. "Poor
child and I'm afcarl she's hurt a.tryin'
to run away from nothing at ALL"
PhUbe's ankle was slightly spaincl,
that was all, and by this time she was
able to smile and answer kindly Mrs.
PIlkington's numerous questions and con.
dolcnccs.
"Can l ride home? Oh, of course I
can" said She in reply to E2ra's mtcro-
cations "NIy ankle i, only the least bit
lame"
Old Farmer Pilkington was anNiOusly
looking out for them, when. considerably
later than he had expected, the wagon
drove up and Mrs. Plkington made haste
to explain everything 10 him.
"And amt it queer, said She, "that
me and Phoebe should both lev bought
pongcc handkcrchjcl5 Just alike on
Grand Street? If ever there was bar
bains, they be. Half yard square, real
China goods, with hem
"Fiddlcsticks. said ID Mr.. piliine.
ton. 'If there's anything | hate, its
bargains"
Little Phm'c prmro>2 stayed on at the
farm. She liked the daisies ond red
clover, the sound Of running brooks, the
smell of the cows breath. Anl--ENa