The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-11-07

feet | dressed and undressed so often.
The pair dropped from my hand. What
if | said they would not suit, or I'd call
again another day? put my hand in
my pocket and felt the old portmonnaie
the ragged bill was yet inside. Then
remembered mothers signs, and said
nothing. | am so glad now, though |
am afraid il was reluctant offering.
after all. | chose the shoes and gave
him the bill, which he threw carelessly
into the money-drawer. All, well, he
did not know
Then / walked slowly up the street
past the opera-house. The people were
crowding in, old and young; some |
knew. | caught a glimpse of our poet,
his wife and sweet-faced girl. 1t is
something to know his face even. And
there was Lily and Joe and everybody
else, ii seemed to me. There were
silks and soft white shawls. / thought
of my Sunday bonnet with the pink
flowers inside, and Rugged the shoes
tight while hurried home.
AS l opened the sitting-room door,
little Tins cough struck my ear sharp
and shrill, as if he were coughing into
bell. The worn-out shoes were steam
ing under the stove, and his little, wet,
stained stockings hung over chair to
; dry. l said nothing, only united the
parcel and set the copper toes where
the first rays of the morning sun would
strike them, close by the head of his
bed. Mother looked up into my face
as | came into the sitting-room, with
her eyes full of tears. She knew it all.
Now" said 1, with cheerfulness
was only beginning to feel, for the
glare of the lights, the flash of silver
and jewelry, and the sound of happy
voices were fresh in my mind, 1--WE
, will have Dickens too" l took out a
! card photograph of him, with his hand
thrust into the pocket of his embroidered
coat, photograph which Joe had given
Oily, and stood it upon the table before
/, us. Then | brought out torn copy of
Pickwick from among fathers old
books, and turned over the leaves until
l found the "trial scene"
: :" But you mustn't sew" said /,
"and you must be dressed in your best.
; He has come long way and we'll
honor him with our best"
threw a white knit shawl over her
T faded mousseaine de laine dress, and
: smoothing her hair-she has soft, pretty
l. hair-covered it with her last summers
f bonnet. 1t was crumpled and yellow,
+ but rather more dressy than the old
,. brown velvet. l should have insisted
upon gloves, but her best were brown
q wooden, and as that would never do
q never! we overlooked the deficiency
v and she tried to cover the pricked, toll
q worn fingers with the ends of the shaw
Then began. l think for time
n outDickensed Dickens, until, looking
!. upon my audience for response, | met
# mothers plying eyes, and then
il Well it was poor, little, dingy room
q. at best, which even our kerosene OF
lamp and frumpish last summer:
If bonnet could not enliven l could no
make it the opera-house. laid dowr
ID my work and went out crying, and we
" did not make believe any more.
W You had better go to bed, DEAR
ID said mother, you'll feel better in TIT
ID morning." And when took the bon
a net from her head
ts " You've been good girl" Tha
le was worse than all, for l did not de-
70 serve it. When | awoke in the morn
nj ing it was showing furiously. TIL,
as storm kept Mr.. Dickens in town owe
s. Sunday. you know, and that was how
,o l CHANGED to see him. for am coming
er to it at last. 1t was Saturday and Their,
o. was no school. Tim trotted about TIT
house, hoarse, but triumphant in hi
n new shoes, and | was happier than
Id can tell. Even when Oily braved tn
of storm to come in and talk it over | wa
re not in the least envious or unhappy
m She had not much to tell of Dickens o
nd his reading, but more of who wer
of there and what they were. But | wa
an grateful for even the crumbs.
d. In the afternoon it ceased snowin
ar and the wind died away. There was
Id great drift across our front steps, who
to | prepared to attack. 1t was almos
dusk before was ready, however, 70
all Saturday is always a busy day; and TO
or that reason, because the light was dir
| and everything indistinct, may hav
SIS been mistaken, as billy says-but yo
81 shall hear ii all.
IN tied Tins red comforter over m
h. head, put on a pair of mothers glove
". "a world too large-and then, shove
9, in hand, made a sally from the iron
d. door. had cleaned the steps and wa
of halfway to the gate, thinking to my
ar self, for ones thoughts fly fast wit
as busy hands.
Id Eyes, it was great disappont
e; ment!" Here l gave the shovel tire
mendous push, fairly pushing the word
ok out of my mouth. They flew over tn
rs fence and struck The ear of slim ger
re tleman passing by.
en- "Was it?" said he, kindly. Ilooke
re up, unconscious that | had spoke
res aloud, and met face-a face | ha
seen frequently, of late in dreams-an
>" photographs. l could not have bee
No mistaken-and yet there was no en-
broidery upon his coat, no rose in hi
list button-hole.
I'M had held conversation with him
g, dozen times, at least, in Imagination, =
tn conversation on my part, at least, whic
to would have delighted the heart of Wei
ster, Worcester and the man who il
he vented grammar, but now droppe
he my shovel and one glove and exclaimed
lie 81 do declared" 1t was useless
attempt elegant language after tina