The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1890-08-28
Mr.. WHYT'S
WIFE'S SISTER,
By MARION HARLAN
fcopYRrcHr. 1po1
CHAPTER v.-CoSrryUEp

LII islANlNlN llHINA-AiNDs
[coPYRrcHr. 1901
CHAPTER v.-CoxTrNUED.
As twelve o'clock struck from the nearest
church spire he was staring into the form
less shadows overhead and living over
the apple blossom week, the symphony
in pink and white. The young robins
were full fedged and had fitted from
the parent nest. The young hope, born
Of what stood with him for all the
poetry of his six and twenty years Of
life, spread strong winds toward future
he was not to enjoy alone.
Thor was uneasy. lie should have
found his share of the rug laid upon elastic
turf as comfortable rs the mat upon the
piazza floor, which was his usual bed.
yet he rose to his launches, once and
again, and, although at his masters
touch or word. he lay down obediently,
the outline OF his big head, as March
could make 1t out In he gloom. was
alert.
what is it. old boy" said he, pres
emily. What is going on?"
Thor whined and beat the ground
with his tail, both tentatively, as ask
ing information in return.
In raising his own head from the
yielding and soft rustling grasses, March
became aware Of sound, lucrative and
teasing. that vexed the languid night.
1t was like the ticking OF a clock, or OF
an uncommcnly strenuous deathwatch.
While he listened it seemed to gather
force and become rhythmic.
click! click! clack click click! clack.
clicketty click! clicketty. clicketty
clack! click! click. click! clicketty
clack! ting!'
Somebody was working typewriter
on this sitting night, presumably by
artificial light, in the most aristocratic
quarter OF Fairhill. Thor knew the in
cident to be unprecedented. The
rhythmic iteration made his master
nervous; the sharp warning OF the bell
At the end Of each line pierced his ear
like the pinch Of fine wire.
He sat up and looked about him.
An aperture in the foliage let through
single ray of light. 1t came from the
direction Of the parsonage.
''Tony's pet hallucination is of wan
dering light in the garden and orchard.
q sort Of will o the Wisp' affair, which
it is his duty to look after" Hester had
said that evening. ''He PUSHES down
stairs at all hours of the evening to see
who is carrying it. told him last night
that burglars we're too clever to care to
enter clergyman's house, but he can
not he convinced that somebody, bent
upon mischief, doesn't prowl about the
premises. He is half blind, You know,
and has but three-fourths OF his wits
within CALL
Recollecting this, March arose eau
tiously, whispered to Thor to .'trail,''
and stole noiselessly up the easy grade.
The light was in the wing Of the par
sonage, and shone from the wide win.
dow Of the pastors study on the first
floor. The shutters were open; q wire
screen excluded insects, and just within
this sat woman at typewriter
Hetty!
Across the shallow garden he could
see that her hair was combed to the
crown OF her head for GOODNESS, and
coiled loosely there. Now that he was
nearer to the house, he distinguished
another voice, also a woman's, debating
or reading, as the flying fingers manip
ulated the keys. Drawing out his re-
peater, he struck it. Half-past twelve
Il have been sorely interrupted in
my pulpit-preparation, this week." Mr.
Wayt had informed Mrs. Gilchrist. on
taking leave that night. II fear the
sunlight will extinguish my midnight
argand burner. The labor we dcligh,
in physicks PAIN and, with me, take,
the place of slumber, meat and drink
Impressed by an underlined sense OF
trouble, March stood, his hand upon the
gate. almost decided to 60 up to the
house and inquire II aught were amiss
While he cast about in his mind fol-
some form Of words that might account
for his intrusion, Mrs. Wayt's figure
same forward, and offered. with one
md, glass Of water to her sister. In
thu other she held paper. Withou,
taking her fingers from the typewriter
Hetty raised her head, Mrs. Wayt pu,
the glass to her lips, and, while she
drank, dictated q sentence from the
sheet In her hand. In the brcezelese
hush Of the July night clause was aud
ible to the spectator.
s'Who has not heard the story of the
drummer-boy OF Gettysburg?'
.'Click-click-clack! Click-click-clack.'
recommended the noisy rattle.
While Hetty's fingers few, her sistel
famed her gently, but the eyes OF ont
were riveted to the machine, those O
the other never left the paper in hel
hand.
March went back to his orchard camp
Thor at his heels.
TWAS losely-cloudy; the purple play
Of lightning was whitening and concen
trating in less frequent lines and lances
When these came, 1t could be seen tina
thunder-heads were lifting themselvel
In the west. But the night rename.
MINDLESS, and the itera i've click still
leased the ears Of the watcher. It was
IN odd vigil. even for an anxiou.
lover, to lie there, gazing into the BLACK
abysses of shade, seeing naught excer
by liyid flashes that left deeper black
ness, and knowing whose vita! force.
were expended in the unreasonable toll
What could it mean? Did the over
laden girl add copying for pay to thu
list OF her labors? And could the sister
who seemed to love her, aid and abe
the suicidal work? Where was Mr.
Wayt? The play OF questions took the
measure and beat Of the type-keys. un
til he was wild with speculation and
hearkening.
At half-past two the rattle ceased
suddenly. Almost beside himself with