Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1884-1886, 1886-04-13

ton, and turned the old friendship into a
hard eumitv, and the old trust into fixed
rancor.
It became rapidly known that the two old
neighbors were mot on speaking terms" and
the causes and circumstances of the rupture
were not mystery. 1t was known, too, that
Mrs. Long and Mrs. Talcott were not active
participants in the quarrel Their old pleas
ant companionship seemed virtually ended
because, in their timid womanly submissive
ness, they obeyed the unspoken commands Of
their husbands rather than face the displeas-
Ure which would have followed a defiance Of
them. But they smiled when they met each
other; they fingered in the church vestibule to
exchange good morning
The autumn days filled the air with the
dim-blue vapor and not unpleasant odor Of
bonfire smoke Mr. Talcott vas late with
his. He had put it of till his fall clearing
was done-the garden freed Of the dried and
empty bean-vines, and raked of; the weeds
pulled up which had fourished powerless for
harm during the last month or two; and
which now stood black and frozen: a few
dead bushes cut down, and the fruit-trees
trimmed here and there. 1t was late in No
yemter when the pile lay ready, low down in
a corner of the plundered potato patch. In
some of its rough hollows lay the remains of a
thin snow.
Mr. Talcott lighted it directly after supper.
Now and then he replenished it; at O'Clock
it was still burning. He sat down on an old
stump to look at it as it leaped and fickered
itself out, lighting up broad space around
il and shining On the high fence.
Mr.. Talcott sat with his elbows on his knees
and his chin in his hands There was a sort
of peace in the clear night, and in the early
quiet which bad settled down upon it. He
looked around at the still, bare scene and the
pale-gray sky, and felt something of the
tranquility.
A spark from the subsiding fire snapped
nto a little pile of dry stalks half rod dis
tant and they famed up. A twig took fire
from them and burned to its end, and loose
splinter blazed in its turn He watched the
curious line of light as it ate its Pickering way
along. There was a deep deposit Of dead
leaves drifted up against the tall fence;
they took the alarm, and glowed
and cracked smartly And then the flames
mounted up, and grew broader and redder-
the fence had caught fire
Mr.. Talcott got up and walked over to it.
Then he returned, with scarcely the haste that
NC ltOhe7l diiu st1i teu AoI luc
pump He seemed rather TO linger on the
way: when he reached it, he stood moment
without doing anything in particular before
he filled wooden pail, which lay near, and
went back with it. The fence was flaming
brightly; but he stopped to pick out chip
which had got stuck in the sole of his boot,
and tied the old wooden muller he wore
around his neck with hands which were not
quite steady. Then he peered all about him,
in an oddly guilty way, emptied his pail Of
water on the ground, and went and sat down
on the stump again He looked cold and cross
and uneasy, and anything but heroic; but
there was new-found warmth within him.
There was quite a crowd about tine place
half an hour later, looking at the blackened
remains Of the line fence-several men, at
tracted by the flames, and few women
hastily wrapped up. Mr.. Long had
come out and watched the confIagration
from Il discreet distance. But he had
drawn gradually closer, till he finally
stood poking over the warm cinders with one
foot Mr. Talcott stood near by They did
not look at each other for moment. Then
the latter spoke, in a voice made high and
sharp by the greatness Of the effort.
Went down jest like paper" he said. Il
guess there couldn't anybody a-stopped it.
couldn't do nothing against it-nothing at
all,' He felt that be regained by this some
of the dignity he had lost in his own concep-
ton: he looked relieved.
His neighbor did not reply directly The
darkness hid his softened, perturbed expires
sion, and he was not the person to make it
manifest. His tone, when he spoke, was COM
posed and even condescending