The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1886-06-17

Dear old fellow, of course he had loved
her then, and of course he loved her
now! Uncle Jabez's distracting gossip
could be easily explained. 70 think
otherwise was absurd.
s'Jehu! l was satisfied I heered some
thing smash" cried that simple indi-
vidual, pushing the door ajar with his
m~occasined toe. and shutting in, his
arms full of wood. There, there,
ma'am, l wouldn't take on so about the
clancy. Your husband won't feel get
ting you a new s~ugar-dish, bein' he's in
the crockery line"
at breaks the set, you see." equivo-
Gated the proud little matron, humor-
ing his conceit. Better pass for a ninny
than a jealous wife.
1--WE all have our peseers,'' philoso-
phized Uncle Jabez, placing the sticks
in the wood-box with fond d~eliberation.
'.Now you know how twas at my house
last spring. My wife was sick, and l
had a narrow squeak to get along; but
now my wife's dead, and I'm out of
debt, and I thank the Lord! Hullo!
here's Lunt's team"
The entering grocer NODDED affably to
Mrs. Gerrish as he dropped his parcels
upon the table. Warm morning,
ma'am. Shower brewing. Mr.. Gerrish
to be gone long9"
"Only till noon. He has u up to
Boston,"
..Oh. 1 supposed he was gone further.
Noticed he carried a valise and got
checks for New York"
'Guess he was SEEM to Jimmy Ebbitt's
traps" volunteered Uncle Jabez, fol-
lowing the grocer out to beg a ride.
.'She's started for New York. They're
tinkerin' the meetin'-house, and she's
free to run off,"
"And to stay off, for all me-" NUT
tered the little matron, sweeping up the
scattered sawdust with a spiteful tiirt of
her broom. ..Why didn't Warren tell
me she was goingP He's amazingly
coy about speaking of his old love-"
Old love in more senses than one.
Miss Ebbitt was thirty at the least, for
all she would persist in dressing as
youthfully as herself-nineteen this very
day! What ravishing bonnets this Co
quette did wear, and what airs she put
on in the choir, where she always sat
next MI. Gerrish! Often whispering to
him too. Was it necessary for organ
list and chorister everlastingly to confer
with each otherP In that case, ag-
grieved Mrs. Gerrish wished hat she
might be the organist herself. With a
little more practice in the use of pedals,
she was sure she could play as well as
Miss Ebbitt. At all events she could
have played al well before she left her
fathers home and the dear piano. War
rem had praised her execution in those
days. He needn't trouble himself to
praise it again, if Jenny Ebbitt was
'.every thing to him." What else had
he said to Miss Jenny that dayP Had
she been in Uncle Jabez's place, Mrs.
Gerrish felt sure she could have heard
every word, had her husband whispered
never so softly. Was he at the present
moment holding Miss Jenny's shawl
about her in the cars, as he had held it
in the carriagep Didn't the woman
possess a shawl-pinp
Ten O'Clock, and the dishes unwash-
ed! The belated little house-keeper
barred her dimpled arms and made a
feint at haste; but the stroke of eleven
found her hands still in soapsuds, and
her thoughts in Boston. Warren called
Miss Ebbitt a superior m Pity he
hadn't married her! A lovely life they
might have led discussing protoplasm
and the correlation of forces, if she, the
gay girl-wife had not stepped in be-
tween them. Once she had told War
rem as much, and been silenced by a
kiss. Yet last Wednesday week. when
she got vexed at chess and threw the
queen across the room, he had called
her a silly child, and soon after had
taken his hat and gone out. 1t was
evident enough nov what he went for.
He went to invite Jenny Ebbitt to ac-
ao.,ponr hin, tho navf Iau 20 pocfan
Uncle Jabez had witnessed their return.
In plain English, Warren had become
weary of his foolish little wife, and had
preferred the society of a reasonable
woman. Twelve o'clock! Well, by
this time he had doubtless seen Miss
Jenny off to New York, and he must be
on the train for home. She would put
the pudding in to bake.
At one, the usual hour of dining, the
/ pudding was dough, and the lamb moi
half roasted. What allied the oven!
For once in his life her husband would
have to wait for his dinner. Mrs. Ger.
: IRISH said to herself that she didn't care
He had been partaking of an intellec
, tual feast with Miss Jenny; he mus
: make that do. But when at two O'Clock
! the dinner was smoking in the warming
oven, she chafed at his non-appearance
: Why should he delay on this of all days
: while the heavens bewailed a furiou.
) tempestp He knew her dread of light
/ nIng. He had never before neglected
r her so cruelty. Whatif-absurd fancy-
what if he had really gone on a journey
as the. grocer had supposed! Gliding
herself for the thought, she rushed
S up stairs to prove its fallacy. Through
gathering gloom she glided straight t.
her husbands closet, suggestively open
I Where was the valise that had stood il
one cornerp Where indeedp Tn
! space it had filled Knocked her with it
: darkness. A new suit fresh from thu
~tailor's had also vanquished-yes, ant
the bank-book! In PHYS name, VIII,
: had her husband needed that? Had ht
gone on to New York with Miss Ebbitt
, Transfxed with horror at the suspicion
the miserable young wife glared at tn
dismantled wardrobe till reused to ply
steal fear by a terrific thunder-boit
Then, half frenzied. she lighted a lamp
drew the shutters, and flung herself OF
! the bed.
In the grasp of that memorable tenn
S pest the cottage trembled like a Twin,
t thing, and the ground shook as with al
e earthquake. Older and drawer womel
e than Mrs. Gerrish shuddered that day
and she, poor fasting soul, was al
alone, and battling with her first an
guish. Oh, the cruelty of it! Gradual
the storm subsidized. She grew calmer
Spent with excitement, she may eve
have drowsed. Suddenly she starte
up in a panic. The clock was strikini
s five. The September night was shut
o ting down upon her. She could nc
~ confront it unattended; but, on tn
e other hand, how could she proclaim he
o desertion to the neighbours? Could sh
. ever tell living mortal of the tress c
" hair hidden among her husbands oil
e letters-a snaky curl just the shade c