The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1890-12-06
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"PARKER." 3"

some" said Mrs. Thurlow, handing back a
black edged letter to her husband
Troublesome ~ replied the Dean, eating
at the inadequacy of the word, ''Trouble-
some! She'll be all the plaques of Egypt
rolled into one y
Il shall miss Uncle Anthony" rejoined
his wife. She felt that death required all
three syllables, though the defunct had
been known as Uncle Tony for the last
fifty years.
"Methusaleh and Old Parr were missed,
I've no doubt, answered the Dean, driv-
ing his spoon through the bottom of the
empty egg-shell. Anybody can be missed
if he lives long enough, but, Maria, for
goodness sake don't expect me to express
regret, for | can't and won't. When ii
man has the indecency to live to be ninety
ones only feeling is relief"
The Dean spoke with such irritability
that his wife perceived his thoughts dwelt
more on Parker than on his deceased rela-
tive. To recall his mind TO the fact of the
bereavement she rose from the table and
decorously pulled down the blinds that
faced the street. The Dean looked up
sharply,
"Well," said he, "I suppose | must en-
dure tha., Int remember, not one particle
Of craroutS -
Un< Ely was dead at last, at the pa
trifchal age of ninety. He Ihad hunted
until he was eighty; everything in the way
of bones that man could break he broke,
but at eighty he gave up hunting and took
to falling down stairs and slipping on the
i>ak flooring of the hall, but he then only
aaGieved dislocations. In money matters
UncieTony was perfect child. He had
faculty Tor muddling money away; it ran
i&&hrough his fingers like water. When his
affairs 'uco'-." 50 complicated that he did
not know whether he was sOa~t-s.st,t- not,
he sent for his astute nephew, Dean Thu2
low, to put him straight. These visits of
the Dean were a terrible discipline to Uncle
Tony. The unhappy old gentleman went
through hours of agony. They say the art
of cross ss-examinatiop is only to be learned
at the bar, but this is manifestly incorrect,
as the Dean possessed it in perfection.
When he got his uncle all to himselfin the
study he gave him many very bad quarter
of an hour-thus:
Thompson, see, paid off his mortgage
of $500 in July last, that was principal;
what have you done with the money, Uncle
Tony?" He shook his finger at the Squire
till the old gentleman trembled in his shoes.
Uncle Tony always said he was sure he had
reinvested it, but he never had; then he
swore it must still be at his bank, but it
never was; ultimately he was always COM
PEELED to own that he supposed he had used
it. If man were so blind to the ordinary
rules of morality as to spend principal as
if it were income he became at once anathe-
ma to the Dean, especially when that prin-
cipal was bequeathed by will to himself
and his son. 1t was after twice convicting
his uncle of this heinous crime that the
Dean achieved his great coup. He swooped
down on his unfortunate uncle, called in
his mortgages and outlying investments,
and clapped the entire produce into consols,
triumphantly investing it in his uncle's and
his own name. His wife always said when
he returned from that visit there was a
look of ineffable peace on his face. She
woke in the night and heard him signing
softly.
care you i'll, dear?"
''No, my love, only too happy to sleep"
The Dean had indeed achieved a good
days work; he had invested twenty thou
sand pounds of his uncle's money in con-
sols in his own and his uncle's name.
"The result of this is, Maria" he ex-
planned, as he slipped his glass of port over
the fire on his return, "the result of this is
that when Uncle Tony dies I save six hun
dred pounds for probate duty, and | take
the twenty thousand pounds as survivor
his will cannot touch that, nor all the Lord
Chancellors and cooks in christendom."
The allusion to the cook was in this
wise: When Uncle Tony was eighty his
faithful old cook died and he had to look
about for a successor. Directly the Dean
heard of the death of the old historic fam
lily cook, and that uncle Tony was hunting
about for another, he packed off a woman
from bis own village to secure the place.
He crammed Mrs Beeton's Cookery Book
into her box and gave her special letter
of recommendation. He said to his wife ::
II daresay she can bake and boil; and
if not she can learn, and she's fifty if she
is day, and well marked with the small
pox; one can't have them too ugly when
the master is eighty and unmarried. But
the best of schemes miscarry, and some
extremely pungent utterances were to be
heard next day at the deanery when the
unlovely cook returned and reported that
a Mrs. Parker had been beforehand with
her and secured the place.
"What is she like? ?" asked the Dean
sternly.
"About forty, sir, rather well-favored
party, and very genteel and fair-spoken."
That night, in metaphorical sense,
Parker lay like lead upon the Deans chest.
The thought of her haunted him as he
shaved, and made his hand unsteady. The
very next day he journeyed to Claxton
Manor, his uncle's place, and the result
was, that on his return, he brought back
Will him will duly executed and attested,
by which his uncle left the entire residue
Of his property to himself and his son Jack
after him. How he achieved that stroke
of business was never revealed to a too
curious public; but when he locked that
will up in his safe and reflected ON the
aforementioned consols arrangement, then
he felt that he could be at peace with all,
even with buxom cooks. He had inter
viewed Parker, and finding her arrayed in
honest cotton busily engaged among her
pots and pans, he did not feel uneasy
But as time went on the excellent Parker
washed no more pots and pans; kitchen
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