The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1886-03-12
A line FENCE.


paused in the doorway with her bare arms
twisted into her calico apron, and regard
ed the offenders mildly.
They were struggling through one of the
numerous gaps in the broken-down fence
which separated Mr.. Longs garden from
that of his neighbor, Alvin Talcott-a pro-
cesslon of nine, clucking in grooming way
and stepping high. They came on with COM
posed deliberation, pausing among the en-
cumbers with a contempIativc air, skirting
the radishes after dissatisfied survey, and
settling down at last among the tomatoes
with a chorus of victorious clucks.
at amt going to do" said Mr.. Long
wiping disturbed face with his old red
silk handkerchief. 81 amt going to stand
it."
at amt likely he's thought of it, said
his wife, TRANQUILITY.
Gle can't think OF nothing but that
pesly croquet business rejoined Mr.
Long, jerking his head toward his neigh
boris yard, from which the sound of voices
and the click of mallcts proceeded 81
amt going to stand still and get ate out of
house and home by nobody's hens. if YOU
be"
"Oh, laws, Eliasr' Mrs. Long began, in
easy remonstrance: but her husband had
seized an old tin dipper from the porch
shelf, and was making for the tomato
patch as fast as his sixty years would
permit. There was Il wild cackling and
scattering as he threw his dipper into the
midst OF the scratching flock, pursued
them unrecntingly to the furthest possible
point and leaned cXhaustcdly against the
sunken gate Of the dllapidated fence. It
was sunken with the weight of the many
friendly chats held across it since the long
ago period of its erection; chats held at all
times of day and upon all subjects
politics, moving machines, fertilizers sew
ing societies, crochet patterns, raised cake
recipes, ctc.
Mr. Talcotts croquct ground was before
him. Mr.. Talcott himself stood near lean
ing the weight of his small and wry per-
son on his mallet; his hat over one car
his cheerful, round face shining with Gag
erness; his whole attitude expressive of
watchful and profound absorption.
His eyes We're fixed upon the long fig
IRE of Bart Collicut, the champion croquet
player of the town. who stood at the other
end Of the ground in the act of striking
Old DR.. Blair, upon whose bali he was pre-
pairing to operate, regarded him seriously
from his retirement on the well-stone; lit
tie Mr.. McQuirk, who had stepped across
from his grocery to take q fourth hand,
and who was keeping an eye on that edi-
flee, fidgeted about in nervous apprchen-
sion and dangerous proximity to the up
raised mallet
Mr.. Long surveyed the scene with dis
pleasure. He had, originally, strongly dis
approved of Mr.. Talcott's croquet ground.
He had not been sure that croquet was
not on level 18th ''keerds'' and gambling;
and that deacon of church and Il mem
Der of the town council should countenance
and encourage such iniquity was subject
for grave reflection.
From this-after frequent glimpses and
occasional considerations of the game, over
the fence-he had softcned to the opinion
that it was a waste of time and pack of
foolishness; falling gradually into the
habit, despite his convictions, of observing
it regularly-graduating from the fence to
Mr.. Talcott's Goorstcp-and thus acquir-
ing a tolerablc knowledge of its bale
full methods He had even been known to
manifest an interest in the game, to tender
advice in crisis, to give his opinion upon
a disputed point, to join in applause of Il
good stroke. But he had always consid-
cred that his presence was something Of
reproof and restraint. Just now. as he
stood frowning down the long bewicketed
ground, nothing could hayc convinced him
that lac had ever retreated in the least
from his primal attitude of rigorous dis
approval.
81 declare for ii - said Mr. TALBOT, cx-
as the doctors ball came bowling
into the corner; were getting right
along Come in" he went on, alrably,
turning to Mr.. Long. sit looks as though
we'd fix 'em this time ~
Mr.. Long shifted his position.
you'll have to keep them hens of
yourn to home. They're spelling my gar
den jest about as fast as they can manage
it."
Mr.. Talcott's smiling face hardened. 1t
was not the first time his neighbor had
the hens; though never hitherto
with so much decision.
81 don t really know as it's any of my
he said ''you can't jest expect
for me to be chasing hens everlastingly."
~ don't know but what you better be
chasing hens than wasting time over this
here, " responded his neighbor, surveying
the croquct ground with sternness in his
long featured face.
Mr.. Talcott's small, bright eyes snap
ped
"You hain't no call, rs | know of, to
give no opinion whatsoever" he retorted.
Mr.. Long turned his eyes upon his rate
He was slower to anger
than his neighbor. ''About them hens,
he said, 81 ruther guess this line fence bet
ter be fixed up; needs it. They couldn't