Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-03-01

clothes, the fists still grimly clenched, but
from the women burst chorus of screams.
That gels always after causing mis-
| chief," said one.
''There'll be burying through her yet, /"
said another.
''That gelr' cried Mrs. Cayeeu. up in
| arms for hef daughter 'tAnd what's INV
| gel got to do with it? Just YOU min your
| own gels. They're no better till they should
/ be-"
1t was an unpleasant ending for pleasant
| day. There were but few songs on the road
nome, and those few were not sung with the
usual accompaniment of merry laughter,
Ieare and kinrade both went IN the cart
with Hattie, but neither uttered word the
whole way. Though she made no attempt
to speak to them, she watched them fur
lively, terrified at the contemplation of the
passions which she had aroused.
From her mother, as soon an
they were safe inside their own
cottage, she received the severest scolding
that had ever fallen to her lot
InereIl be murder DONE" said Mrs,
CaVeen. Mark my words, gel, there'n be
murder done, and you'll be the cause of it."
This awful prediction increased HaItie's
terror. How was she to prevent its fulfil
men? To reconcile the two men was, she
felt, beyond her powers. The only thing
gage herself to one, and to destroy for the
other all chance of successful rivalry.
Later In the evening, bent upon carrying
ont this idea, she crept outside the door and
as 1t happened. met John Teare. And him
she promised tc marry.
Now you'll be good lad, John, won't
you?" said Hattie coaxingly. 'You won't
quarrel again with Dan, will your"
Teare, elated with his success, said that If
Dan would leave him alone, he would leave
Dan alone. And the compact was sealed
with kiss.
The meeting was witnessed by a tall.
thin, gray-haired man, with q vacant look
In his pale blue eyes. He was a mild kind
OF lunatic, harmless enough when the vii
lage boys did not tease him beyond sndur-
ance. He lived by begging, and always
carried covered basket, into which he put
what was given him. Bets Bill was the
only name he was known by, his mother
having been Betty; if he had ever had Q
surname, it had long been forgotten.
Though it was moonlight night Bet
Bill could not be easily seen, for he stood in
the shadow of barn. But he was near
enough to the couple TO observe their kisses.
and even to catch a few of their words.
w hen they parted he was gone.
John Teare possessed a lew pounds Of
money, few acres OF mountain land and a
little cottage on the outskirts of the village.
By mothers with unmarried daughters he
was therefore considered a very eligible
young man. With HIM lived his Uncle
Peter, miserable old creature, bent in
body, though still powerful in Limb, withan
ill-shapen heaG, low receding forehead, and
matted hair over it, a coarse, stubbly beard.
and cunning little eyes which had in them
the restless look of some wild animal. He
did most of the cooking in the house, helped
on the farm, and, in return for board and
lodging, acted generally as Johns assistant.
Upon the morning after the peat cutting
Peter Teare was early on foot, shambling
toward the village. The first person he
met was Bets Bill. basket on arm as usual,
and for wonder he stopped and spoke.
Have you seen John anywhere?" he
asked.
"John-your John2" exclaimed Bets