Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1890-07-25

Abner, jocularly.
The lineman could only stare. He had
hoped that Abner liked him, and liked
the thought of him in a certain connec-
ton. All, he had hoped that Eunice
did, too. Now he was ali at sea. Worse,
he was racked by sharp fears. For it was
Eunice who most bewiIdered him.
Why had she so confident, so familiar
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 ineman had been with
her There was one explanation. Some
secret understanding, then, was between
her and Fiducia's fat cousin.
Loot the new cider-mill done YETI"
5aid Mr. Baldwin, showing back his
chair. "Supposing you and l take a
walk down that way, Eunicc? Come,
get your bunnit!"
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 a svmpa-
thizing angel-though she was somebody
elses angel-she said, with dropped
eyes:
"Won't you go, too, Mr.. Miles2"
eco 'Iong!" 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 ineman had got timidly to his
feet, but he sat down again, a little
pale.
''I'm feeling kind of tired" he muir
INJURED. 81 guess won't"
And Eunlce and Fiducia's cousin went
off together, the tones of bis jubilant,
heavy voice floating back.
''Real good, jolly teller, Silas is"
said Fiducia, picking up the dishes,
q now amt he?"
''Seems so, said the lineman. mechan-
ically.
Yes" said Fiducia. "Good luck
hain't spoilt 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 ineman had noted it.
And he-he was 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-
manned 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
affectionate, big heart till now; and
now he had guaged it only to feel that
sudden death-say from lightning or an
exp!osion-would be quite welcome.
Everybody was not against him.
Sammy and Molly were sitting on his
lap, and pulling his chin hither and
thither and chattering; and while Abb
ner did the barn chores and Fiducia
washed the dishes, the ineman told in
teresting anecdotes to the children in a
forced and hollow way. But escaping at
last, he put on his hat and wandered out
in the early dusk
He felt that to witness the serene re-
turn of Eunice and the fat grocer would
be more than he could calmly endure at
present.
He walked up the street; Eunice and
Fiducia's cousin had gone down.
The edge Of the spring evening was
pleasantness itself. The cherry trees
made white clouds in the air; the yards
he passed gave forth fowery odors; a
robin poured out its CHEEKY evening call.
warmly appreciative, would have thrilled
with happiness; but with his sad, honest
blue eyes on far tree top, he Jagged
along without clear realization of any,
thing.
He found himself presently at the spot
where Stokes had commenced work that
afternoon. His ladder was leaning
against the high pole, and his portable
tool-box, on wheels, was standing near
it.
1t was locked, but the lineman had
key, and rather aimlessly he unlocked it,
The condition of the pole and the tools
lying ready in the box made clear the
amount of work Stokes had done, and
what he intended doing next.
His colleague reflected. He had as
great a dread of going back to Abner
Lanes and encountering Eunice and his
rival as his manly heart had ever known.