The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1890-11-13
IRA'S FATHER.

hoisted from the ridge.pole. Stampings
and whinnyings were loud within, and
the pleasant barn odor was all-pervad-
ing.
1t was more like April than early win.
ter. There was warm wind, whose
dampness foretold u rain, beneath which
the dwindling remnants of snow would
vanish. 1t lay in melting, dirty drifts
here and there on grass of vivid spring
like green. Some belated frogs were
chirping somewhere near.
The largest drift was in the west cor
ner of the front yard, and Ira was play
ing in it. His method was to scrap to-
gether large pile of it, and then, back
ing to considerable distance and re-
turning at full speed, to plunge head first
into it,and by violent efforts of his small
arms and legs, being fiat on his stomach,
to scatter it riotously in all directions.
This he had been doing for an hour, and
was not yet satisfied. He kept it up with
the enjoying solemnity of childhood, con
tent to play alone, because in the habit
of it; when some boys passed on their
way home from school, he paid no heed
to them. Ira had not felt like going to
school for several weeks, and had not
gone, therefore.
1t was five o'clock, and the fragrance
of coffee was filling'all the outside air.
lra's father shut the barn door and went
in.
"Supper's ready now, Ira," he called.
There was in his tone an obvious effort
at careless cheerfulness. Ira did not look
around.
His house keeper, "a relative of the wife
he had married at twenty one and lost
four years ago, was taking up the supper
in the warm kitchen where the table
stood. She looked harassed.
''Ira's been out there in the wet good
while, Marcus. He'll catch his death
cold or have croop again." she said, and
Marcus stepped to the front door. His
head nearly grazed its top.
"Come in to your supper, Ira, +" he said,
and went back and drank his coffee for a
silent, strained five minutes. He and
Mrs. Paynter avoided looking at each
other. Then he stalked to the door
again. "Ira," he called, sternly, "you
come right in here this minute aud get
your supper"
Ira looked around. There was some
passing wonder in his serious blue eyes,
and there was a distant regret or COM
miseration. He by no means disliked
his father; certain quality of mildness
and sweetness which won other people
was plain enough to Ira's small percep.
tons. Turning back, he went on piling
up his dirty snow. His father stood and
looked at him, loath to go back to his
supper.
"He hain't got his mittens on, has
hea" said Mrs. Paynter, in the alarmed
abstract contemplation which was theil
sole attitude toward Ira.
mo, said Marcus. He cleared hi
throat before adding. ''He's got his
coat off, too.
But his voice was choked. The poo,
young father all at once sat down, and
leaned his head in his hands
The lines of his comely face
showed his disheartened depth o.
worriment. 1t was net for the first time.
He had wanted to do his duty by his
motherless boy, for whom his love was
strong, and had seen him growing more
froward and more, till now the utter
most limit of his foregone weak defeat
had long been reached. He had done
for him, anxiously if akwardly, all hi
yearning heart had been prolific il
suggesting, and beheld him at eigh
years old with an established reputation
for the worst child in town.
He comprehended that his own lacks
were accountable. He was in some sor
afraid of Ira, whose self-ownership hat
given him an uncanny oldness beyond
bis years; and he had been tilnorou
where he should have been firm. A mar
of meaner parts, but ordinary self-assur
ance, might have made of Ira a gooc
boy; Marcus had contributed to max,
him the worst. He was self-reproach
full, but he was powerless. He knew it
He knew Ira would 90 on serenely il
his habitual courses; would disregard al
but his own hayward guidance; woult
go on sitting up nights 70 such hours a
suited him, and eating when and what h
wanted to, and going to school when h
chose-which was seldom-and some
times disappearing entirely for varyin,
periods. And Marcus was helpless to d
anything but to wonder dreadingly wha
it would come to.
Ira remained in the yard, and at 81
o'clock his father, having done the bar
chores, went out to him with war;
turnover. Ira, wet from head to foo1
nis pale hair lying damp on his heate
lace, took and silently ate it, sittin
down in the snow.
'Aint you coming in pretty soon, Ira
said his father. He oomed against til
fading sky, powerful form standin
helpless as baby.
"Oh, ! guess SO, said Ira.
"Put your coat on. Amt you cold
bis father implored.
Mop" said Ira. He went on pla,
ing.
''Come in, Ira. I'll crack some butte
nuts and bring up some apples"
But Ira's tolerance was wearied Fl
made no reply to this nor to his father
further appeals.
Marcus turned away. He waverel ]
his course. Finally he went across loi
to the nearest house. Until the pa
spring he had gone over to the Bartho
omews often and enjoyingly; of late b
went seldom, and with painful trep
dalton. He was honest and singh
minded; he worked his farm, and bougl
and sold horses and raised colts, and W
used to dealing with material facts an
not with subtleties; and he had not V
tried to disentangle the matter. +
knew that since Liza Bartholomew h,
come from Edgerton to help in her u
cle's family he had felt foolish about g
ing there, and all but scared.
He was ashamed of his present erran,
He paused once or twice in his progee
across the fields, hubby and bare al
blackened by recent bonfres, b
pushed on till the early lsmp-light sho
out upon him from the Bartholomew