The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-12-04
Sophy's Transgression.
BY NARY T. FARNSWoRTH.

"Oh, uncle, can't l go:
Sophy Allerton leaned over her uncle's
chair, with pleading eyes, and hands un-
consciously clasped over the carved knob
upon its top.
She was small rosy damsel of eighteen,
with luxuriant brown hair, eyes of the
velvety brown that you see in a ripe
chestnut that has just burst its burr, and
bright complexion, none the worse for
few touches of healthy sunburn. And
her dress, though only of shilling calico,
was tastefully made, and she wore a
ssbutterfy bow" of rose-colored ribbon
at her collar, and carmine-blossomed
Glove pink in herhair.
Uncle Joshua shook his head sravely.
"Child," said he, 'tyou know, before
hand, what my answer will be-"
''But, uncle, all the Bates girls are
going!"
well, let them 60 I'm not response
be for Siah Bates's girls. But am for
you, and 1 don't approve of these balls.
Now don't tease me any more. When
I've said no, no it shall be.
And Sophy Allerton went back to strain
the nights milking into the row of glitter
ing milk pans that stood on the snowy
buttery shelves, with eyes too full of re-
Dellious tears to see what she was about.
Uncle Joshua Hale and his niece lived
all alone in the old yellow farmhouse
under the butternut trees. Uncle Joshua
was sixty-year old bachelor, who passed
his time alternately between bed and
chair, helpless paralytic, so far as his
lower limbs were concerned. But, as he
was wont hopefully to observe, he wasn't
paralyzed at the top, and by the aid of
sturdy man-of -all-work, who came before
daylight, and went home at night, when
the chickens climbed their roosts, the
farm progressed bravely.
Il aint a miser," said Uncle Joshua.
"but kind O. want to leave little suth-
in to nv sisters orphan child. Sophy
amt one, to rough it much, and mean
she shall be provided for when I'm
gone"
Uncle Joshua took up mis- paper and
began to unfold its columns as Sophy
crept spiritlessly away.
st goes to my heart to thwart her, /"
said he, "but 'taint right to let her get
into the way of running to such places.
A girl as is all alone in the world, like
my Sophy, poor lamb, can't be too care
full. She'll pout little at first-it's only
natural she should-and then she'll Bee
that her old uncle was in the right of it,
after ALL"
In the meanwhile, Sophy was sitting
on the back kitchen door-sill, listening
to a whip-poor-will repeating its plain
tive refrain on the edge of the maple
swamp below, and watching, as we'll as
she could through her tears, a great
golden star lift its shield through the
purple of the midsummer horizon.
When, all of a sudden, Obadiah Car
stairs, the hired man, came upon her
like a shirt-sleeve vision-for no mortal
ever saw Obadiah with a coat on between
the months of April and November.
..'I've fetched a ham-up from the
smoke-house, said he; "and Squire
Martin is goin' to lemme hev fore-quar-
ter OF lamb for Wednesday,"
.'Yes," said sophy, listlessly, ''it's all
right, I dare say"
But instead of going into the house to
help Uncle Joshua to bed, as Sophy ex-
pected he would, Obadiah shifted him
self from one leg to the other, like
mcditative fowl.
"Goin' to be great doin's down to
Swamp Basin, hear" said he. "To-
morrer night, aint it?"
81 believe so," Sophy answered.
"You're goin', suppose?'
II don't know why you should sup
pose so," retorted Sophy, somewhat
tartly.
"Well, vum!" said Obadiah. "You
amt a-goin', then? There's to be tew
fddles and a cornet; and Squire Dicker-
mans old barn is filled up with flags and
evergreens and pink cambria festoons so
as ye wouldn't know it; and hundred
candles, all burnin' at once!"
"Uncle Joshua don't approve of such
things" sighed Sophy.
''All the young folks is goin'," per-
sisted her Jobs comforter. "Old man
thinks dreadful sight of you. Ishould
s'pose he'd let you go!"
"Well, he won't, then, and there's no
use talking any more about it," said
Sophy, rising and going back into the
house, with some manifestation of temper.
"Well,I vum!' again repeated Obadiah
Carstairs, looking hard at the big golden
star.
Not more consolatory was Lizzie Lark
spur, the pretty daughter of the nearest
neighbor, two good miles away, when
she came the next day to borrow Sophy's
pattern for lace fchu.
''Not goingm said Lizzie. "Why,
everybody will be there! Albert Bates
and Mark Lennard, and-dear Inc, Sophy,
what does make your uncle so cranky?"
II don't know, I'm sure!" said Sophy,
despondently.
''Look here!" cried Lizzie, lowering,
her voice to a mysterious whisper,
there's no earthly reason you should stay,
at home, unless you please, Sophy Aller-
tor'
II don't understand what you mean,
Lizzie"
doesn't your uncle Joshua always re-
tire at eight o'clock2"
"Of course he does. What of that?"
"Why, how on earth can he know
where you are, when he is asleep and
dreaming2 Slip quietly out on the sly.
III wait until half-past nine for you; the