The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1889-04-17
Selttteo Storp,
The Opera at Scuddy.

proportions. Strangers were arriving
daily, improvements were going on at
every hand, and the little trading-post
was fast taking upon itself metropolitan
airs. Its citizens were jealousy proud
of its advancement, and the personal
safety of a man who would have dared
to assert that the town was not boom
ing would have been very liable to be
endangered. Badgerton was Scuddy's
only rival, the only thorn in the side of
its citizens. Badgerton did not excel
except upon the map, they scornfully
asserted, but for all that it occasionally
made its presence felt. The Scuddy-
ties hailed with delight any opportun-
ity to gain advantage over Badgerton,
and were feverishly alert to secure
anything that would boom Scuddy on
toward prominence and discomfit its
rival.
1t was this spirit that caused Jack
Bates to prevail upon the Acme Opera
Company to visit Scuddy. Jack had
seen the company at one of the towns
further east and had learned that they
intended to visit Badgerton and not
Scuddy. 1t was not much in the way
of an opera company, and Jack did not
admire operas, anyhow. But, as he
expressed it, she didn't keer two
whoops in Halifax for operys, nohow;
he was plumb alive to the interests NV
Scuddy, and didn't propose that no one
boss place like Badgerton should git
the bulge on her." To have it said
that the opera company had visited
Scuddy and had scorned to appear at
its rival town would be a cause for the
most profound satisfaction to every
resident of the latter place.
BY guaranteeing that every place of
business would be closed upon the
night of the performance, and that
every person in town and from as far
out as the Yellowhammer ranch should
attend, at 81 per head, or if unable to
be present, should send the dollar
anyhow, Jack was able to secure the
company. In return the manager
signed contract to the effect that he
would not visit Badgerton under any
circumstances. II asked his reason he
promised to reply that the place was
not of sufficient Importance to war
rant it.
Great was the rejoicing at Scuddy
when Jack Bates announced the good
news. a mass-meeting was held, and
Jacks acumen and fostering care for
Scuddy's prosperity were lauded to the
skies. His name was even mentioned
as that of a candidate for the mayor
ship at the next election.
When the stage drew up to the COM
bined hotel and post-oflice, few days
later, with more elaborate flourish
than usual, it seemed as if every per-
son ii the little settlement was there
to welcome its arrival. Bill Hankley,
the driver, seemed to have acquired a
new and added dignity since the citi-
zens had seen him last,
g. Air they thar?" asked Jack Bates,
anXiously.
You bet!" was Driver Bills reply.
A shout of welcome went up from the
crowd as the door of the stage opened
and the singers alighted. Old Colonel
Darby, whose enthusiasm had got the
better of his judgment, insisted upon
delivering an address of welcome.
The last to leave the coach was a
small, pale-faced, yellow-haired man,
who bore in his arms little bundle.
1t might have been a roll of clothing or
it might have been a baby.
The yellOwhaired man was assigned
little room in the i " of the hotel, on
the first floor. He placed the bundle
on the bed, and softly removing the
wrappings, revealed a baby, uneasily
sleeping and catching its breath by
titful gasps. Its little face was thin
and burning with fever. 1t opened its
blue eyes and stretched its tiny hands
feebly toward the yellow-haired man.
" amt drink, papa" the parched
lips piped, weakly.
All day long the yeliow-haired man sat
beside the fever-stricken baby Often
times his head sank on his breast, as If
from sheer WEAKNESS, but he was
always ready to instantly attend to the
feeble cry of, "'Ant d'ink, papa oft
repeated. The child seemed to be sink
ing rapidly Its hot breath came and
went in painful, fluttering gasps.
Often the yelow-haired mans eyes
closed Involuntary, but the babv's
feeble wall for water always aroused
him. He took the little sufferer in his
arms, and, as the sun sank from sight
behind the distant mound, he seated
himself before the open window. The
soft, southwestern breeze, laden with
the perfume of the wild verbenas,
gently agitated the interaced morning
glory vines that crossed the window.
1t dallied about the little hot face,
famed the burning cheeks and kissed
the small, parched lips. 1t toyed with
the baby's yellow curls, so like those of
the pae-faced man who bent above il.
The little head nestled closer to the
mans heart.
Sing, papa" the parched lips whis-
pered.
1t was only an old-fashoned lullaby,
simple, even silly perhaps, but the tenor
voice that sang it so softly gloriied the
homely air.
The swift Indian summer twilight of
the plains came and went; and still the
yellow-haired man sat in the dim room
by the open window and sang the sweet
old lullaby. The song went steadily on
and presently the body was still, except
for the feverish breathing.
Out in the darkness a night-hawk
fell, seemingly from the very clouds,
almost to the earth, uttering, as he
turned to begin his ascent, his weird,