Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-04-06

| critical,
I've been a-holIeriu' and a-callin' all the
time you was gone" she said. with a little sniff
| and an uncertain smile. Il was afraid YOU Il
| come TO harm. l knew you wouldn't find any
| thing at the door. IL is a warning of bad luck
when 1t Is struck like that. You never find
| anything"
l was half tempted to controvert her foolish
wisdom by telling what had found. but if she
| should faint, or have a fit or anything. what
| should do then? What il the BOYS should not
/ be able to get home. and should be Obliged 20
\ remain all night alone with the knowledge Of
| that terrible presence in the parlor? 1 was ms
afraid of IL now as Abby could have been. No
| power on earth could move me to unlock that
! door again. and yet horrible thoughts Of the
man haunted me. Would he rob the house
and vanish? Let him! That would be as moth
ing. Was he reyiving now TO emerge presently
by force and be the death of Abby?' Was he
dead?
Have you heard the train whistle yet?"
asked, thoughtlessly.
| Abby glanced at the clock. ''oh. what'll we
do, she cried in distress, IF the gentlemen's
| come to harm?"
My overstrained nerves nearly gave wav
Why should spare her everything when she
would spare me nothing? laughed hysteri-
cally; my brain was becoming positively Eighty
| IL she should see il,
How is the chowder?" I suggested desper-
! ately. You are not forgetting that. hope.
The young gentlemen will be hungry when they
| come"
As usual. she was immediately diverted.
| From agony at the idea of losing all the BOYS to
anxiety over her chowder was but a step to her.
She rushed hastily to the kettle and pulled it
aside.
! Il clean forgot that lovely chowder" she
said. self-reproachfully. land If ida let it burn
| I'd never a forgiven myself"
All. what an hour that was, For IL WAS full
| hour before the furious stamping and shutting,
Enthusiastically of the boys doing made itself
heard upon the veranda. 1t was always who
let the boys in; tonight fairly few to respond
| to the welcome riot at the door.
| such set of snow images as they were, beat
ing their hats and stamping about the hail. tell
ing me all at once news of the storm. aud their
| luck IN getting home at all. But hardly heard
their words. The very sound of their voices
was music to me, no matter what they said. At
length Phil recalled me to myself.
| Isn't this atmosphere trihe vinous?r he re-
marked, moving his nostrils sensitvely like a
ilttie rabbit; has any one been called to the
bar since morning?'
',Oh, boys"' 1 said, finding my tongue at last.
ana beginning at the same time to walk about
| among them like a mad creature. don't say
| anything to frighten Abby, but have a man in
the parlor. He came here-he fell in-he
seemed to be nearly dead Oh, do go in and
| see."
Apparently they understood NV incoherent
words, for almost before had finished speak
ing they had crowded into the parlor while I
retreated into the sitting-room. When they
came to me they were talking together, and /
| heard smothered laugh.
| He wasn't frozen then?" l exclaimed,
breathlessiv
Not bit of it," Frank answered, putting
his hand comfortingly Oh my shoulder IF he
was he has thawed. Everything has been done
for him that can be done. He is only very
sound asleep and very drunk. How in the
world did you get him in there?"
| Then told them all about il. Not an over
shoe was removed until the end of my story.
As finished | saw, in looking from Frank 70
the Others, that there were SIX manly figures
| about NE.
Have there always been six of you?'' aske d,
mentally recounting them. Il dare say there
may have been; 1 should not be surprised at
anything
They laughed. '.The train stops here for the
| night. Phil explained, 80 we brought Dr.
Otis home with us. / wouldn't let the boys tell
you there was an extra one. and you wouldn't
notice 1t. so you have been in the dark all this
time You ought to be obliged to us for bring
ing you doctor for your patient"
so the stranger was a physician / had had
little to do with physicians in my day, but all l
had met had been middle-aged and grave.
TINS one was young and smiling.
| Are you sure that the man will get well?'
asked him, hardly pausing to make him well
| come
Il am" he answered unhesitatingiy; ssas
sure as am that but for you he would be a
dead man now"
But you said-some one said-that he had
been drinking; perhaps that was my fault; 1
gave him some brandy"
Phil laughed again. 81 should think Won
did, he said; you gave il to him all over. and
he had had enough before. / shouldn't be sur
prlsed II he were to stay asleep for week. He
was more drunk than he was frozen"
| But he would have been frozen if il had not
been for your sister" our physician insisted.
He was hearty guest. If be entertained
the remotest objection to chowder he dis
guised it ably. We had lively meal. and af-
| ter 1t was over and he had superintended the
removing our strange sailor to a bed. he made
| himself very agreeable both in conversation
and IN singing for us in a charming voice.
! was little feeble after my recent shocks, but
feebleness was a luxury surrounded by these
stalwart ones. The wind might rave and tear
and blow us all away SO that it blew us all to-
gether. Even Abby's face was wreathed in
smiles as she fingered over the dinner dishes
and listened TO the music.
Every one remembers that great storm. All
the second day it continued in its first fury.
| The boys made an effort to get to the city, but
! after spending the greater part of the morning
at the station they decided TO give up the idea
| of going on the train which was expected to
| leave in another hour, lest, as the storm showed
no signs OF abating, they should not be able to
return to me at night. So We all lunched
together as we had breakfasted and talked
| over our still sleeping man upstairs, whom
hunger was expected soon to waken.
| Dr. Gus seemed TO entertain the most COM
| plicated views concerning Abby. Whenever
| she was visible he regarded her with a studious
| frown. and confessed 10 me afterward that he
was always questioning within himself whether
she ought to be allowed TO live any longer
| When / think of her doing nothing but
scream and leave you all alone to take care of
that man." he said, Hanging seems too good
| for her.
| But had locked her into the kitchen"
reminded him. Poor Abby! She never in
I tended any harm to any one in her life. / like
| her very much"
THAT is just it." he answered. laughing. "If
| you like her she must deserve to live, but / can
never help watching her. 1 expect her to ex-
plode in mysteries every minute"
| Before the afternoon was over these expecta-
| tons were realized. Indeed, Abby was seized
with an attack beside which all her previous
| alarms were as nothing.
| 1t seemed that our sailor, awaking and fail
! ing to comprehend the situation must needs
| stumble across Abby in the upper hail. who at
/ sight of him, set up the most unearthly scream
| ing that ever pierced our domestic air. and
rushing pell-meii down the back stairs few for
| safety into the kitchen closet and hid her face
| in the ironing blanket. By the time we reached
| the kitchen the stranger was also there stand
| ing humbly just within the door, haranguine
| Abby, who seemed to be listening, although not
| equal to the terror of beholding him.
| As we stood about him he conveyed to u.s.
with excited words and gestures the astounding
| intelligence that he was Abbys husband, who
only yesterday learned of her whereabouts and