Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1890-08-08
.sPossess your soul in PATIENCE" said

Abner, jocularly.
The lineman could only stare. He had
hoped that Abner liked him, and liked
the thought of him in certain connec-
ton. All, he had hoped that Eunice
did, too. Now he was all at sea. Worse,
he was racked by sharp fears. For it was
Eunice who most bewildered him.
Why had she so confident, so familiar
a manner with Fiducia's cousin, Mr..
Baldwin-laughing at his joke aud re-
spending to his sallies2
With the lineman Eunice had always
been shy, as the lineman had been with
her. There was one explanation. Some
secret understanding, then, was between
her and Fiducia's fat cousin.
SCOT the new cider-mill done yet?''
said Mr.. Baldwin, showing back his
chair. "Supposing you and l take a
walk down that way, Eunice9 Come,
get your bunnitl"
The lineman's heart thumped, and the
color rose in his boyishly fair face in i'm
potently rebellious misery. He lifted
piteous blue eyes to Eunice.
She returned his look like sympa-
thizing angel-though she was somebody
else's angel-she said, with dropped
eyes:
"Won't you go, too, Mr.. Miles9"
s'Go 'longl" said Abner.
But Mr.. Baldwin stood tall and black
and all-pervading and formidable. He
was taking Eunice's shawl from the
lounge and putting it-yes, putting it
around her, with some bold pleas
antry.
The lineman had got timidly to his
feet, but he sat down again, little
pale.
''I'm feeling kind of tired" he mur-
INJURED. ~ guess won't"
And Eunice and Fiducia's cousin went
off together, the tones of bis jubilant,
heavy voice floating back.
''Real good, jolly feller, Silas is"
said Fiducia, picking up the dishes.
F" now amt he2"
''Seems so,' said the lineman. mechan-
ically.
EYES," said Fiducia. ''Good luck
hain't spoit him. He's made out of
that grocery over there-well, goodness
knows how much; but guess he's
rich !"
Yes, Mr.. Baldwin wore the air of
prosperity; the lineman had noted it.
And he-he was a lineman.
Eyes, we think considerable of Silas.'
Fiducia concluded "Eunice, now--he
and Eunice are real cronies."
$50 they be, said the lineman, husk-
lily.
Once, Somewhere back in that brightly
hopeful past of which nothing now re-
mained but cold ashes, he had felt GER
tain that Fiducla favored him.
Nobody favored him now; he supposed
the truth was that nobody ever had.
He was forlorn, miserable, sick at heart.
He had not fully known the depth of his
lffectionate, big heart till now; and
now he had guaged it only to feel that
sudden death-say from lightning or an
,xp!osion-would be quite welcome.
Everybody was not against him.
Sammy and Molly were sitting on his
ap, and pulling his chin hither and
thither and chattering; and while Alb
ner did the barn chores and Fiducia
washed the dishes, the lineman told in
teresting anecdotes to the children in
forced and hollow way. But escaping at |
asst, he put on his hat and wandered out
n the early dusk.
He felt that to witness the serene re- |
urn of Eunice and the fat grocer would |
De more than he could calmly endure at |
present.
He walked up the street; Eunice and |
7iducia's cousin had gone down.
The edge of the spring evening was
,leasantness itself. The cherry trees
made white clouds in the air; the yards /
le passed gave forth fowery odors; a
obin poured out its CHEEKY evening call.
In another mood the lineman, who was
warmly appreciative, would have thrilled
With happiness; but with his sad honest
,lue eyes on far tree top, he Jagged
long without clear realization of any-
hing.
He found himself presently at the spot
vhere Stokes had commenced work that
fternoon. His ladder was leaning
gainst tho high pole, and his portable
on wheels, was standing near
t.
1t was locked, but the lineman had
,ey, and rather aimlessly he unlocked it.
The condition of the pole and the tools
ying ready in the box made clear the
mount of work Stokes had done, and
vhat he intended doing next.
His colleague reflected. He had as
,reat dread of going back to Abner
.ane's and encountering Eunice and his
ival as his manly heart had ever known.
If he found something to keep him
he could tell them he had been at work
he might stay here till pitch dark and
hen go back and go to bed, and get the
epairs finished tomorrow and leave
tomorrow night-Ridgeville
ill his next trip and Eunice forever.
Yes. With something remarkably
ike sob in his throat, the young line
nan put on Stokes's spiked 'sclimbers,n