Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1890-06-30
What Came of a Holiday.
CHAPTER IA BROKEN LEG.


room, in the pretty seaside village OF
Yarley, gloomily stroking his brown
beard, and looking at the fading light
over the sea.
eve have been going down hill for
so long," he says presently to his
wife who sits at the table near, busy
in renovating some of the old straw
hats for the children to wear to-mor-
row on a picknicking expedition, in
which they have all-father and moth
er and all-been invited to take part
by some kind neighbors.
A pause, and then John Fordham
adds
"And I don't see how we are ever
to get up again. [ don't care about
taking holiday tomorrow, either ;
and 1 wish you would agree to leave
me behind, Dorothy"
Nonsense, John p returns little
Mrs. Fordham cheerily she is al
most always bright and hopeful.
1.-THE children would not like that,
neither should /. Let us be thankful
that we have our health and strength,
so that we can put the worries out of
sight for awhile, and go off and enjoy
ourselves like other people for once"
industriously sponging away at some
soiled ribbons as she speaks. ''One
or the other of us might have been
laid up she goes on; land how
much worse that would have been
than anything we have had to put
up with yet. Cheer up, dear. "A
good heart breaks bad luck We
have only 10 60 on, doing whatever
hes before US, and leaving all the
rest to One who knows better than
we do, and the way will be sure to
OPEN
Here the four children, two boys
and two girls, run in from their play
in the quiet country roadway.
ooh, mother, have you finished
our hats?" asks the eldest of the
girls, a curly-headed little girl of
eight, while Dorrie, the youngest,
takes up the sponge which her mother
has just finished using, and next casts
her glance over the table in search of
q straw hit of rihhon.
"Not quite-Dorrie, put down that
sponge, and find my large scissors,
there's good child And, Hilda,
thread needle with white cotton for
me. Boys, have you cleaned your
boots?"
eyes, mother"
"And brushed your clothes?''
Eyes, mother. Oh, look, Johnnie !"
peering delightedly through home
made kaleidoscope (their latest toy), |
and then gently holding it out to his
older brother. ''It's all rose-color |
and yellow = like sunshine! And
green, and blue, land purple? h,isn't |
it pretty! And you've only got to
keep turning it, and turning it,
But before little Alfred had got so
far, John Fordham the elder has look
ed down at his own boots, and be-
thought himself also of his own
clothes.
AS he goes into the little back
yard, brushes, etc., in hand, he signs
heavily. Once the kaleidoscope of his
life had been of blue, and rose, and
gold; but the gay and hopeful col
ors have all vanished long since, and
in these days he can only see dull
gray, with a lowering blackness of
doubt and dread on every hand.
By trade he is a cork-cutter. Once
he had a business of his own in the
large adjacent town of Eastbridge,
and had been doing we'll. But the
demand for corks had fallen off by
degrees, for glass shoppers, ETC., had
come to be used instead; and, at
length, after months, and even years
of anxiety and suspense, he had failed.
Removing from Eastbridge. he had
come to live in Yarley for cheapness,
feeling himself. broken and ruined
man. His wife had taken in wash
ing, and he had got little painting,
or something else of the kind to do,
every now and then; and so they
had gone on from day to day until
now.
However, as he-not very ener-
getically-cleaned his boots, he tried
hard to shake off his depression; he
did not wish to cloud the enjoyment
of others by his own detection, and
he determined that he would do as
his wife had said, namely, go to the
picnic tomorrow and forget, in its
little CLEAN of brightness, that there
was nothing but gloom beyond.
The morning came, clear and cloud
less. They all set off in good time,
in roomy covered van, with hamp-
ers packed with provisions, and plen-
ty of wraps, cloaks and umbrellas,
in case of change of weather before
night. In short, their kind friends,
the Wynnes, had taken charge of ev-
erything, and they had nothing to do
but to enjoy themselves.
How beautiful the country lanes
were in their fresh summer greenness,
how exhilarating was the cool, pure
morning air, and how gloriously the
June sun shone down on the flower
ing Indigenous!
John Fordham was just beginning
to cast off his dependency, when
snap went something! A strap! At