Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-03-07

any idea of. His household was small,
consisting simply of his sister Ruth and
granddaughter Grace - the former q
lady of uncertain years and temper,
whose periodical fits of irritability were
compensated for by splendid qualifca-
tions as housekeeper and a strong af-
lection for her brother, whom the neigh
bors said she ruled with rod of
iron - the latter sweet girl of
eighteen, whose radiant smile and
winning ways made sunshine in
the old mans house. She was the ac-
hnowledged village beauty-a trifle
short in stature, perhaps, but with q
form exquisitely nodded, expressive
eyes, which spoke with every glance,
healthy complexion that let the
blush quickly suffuse the cheek, yet
which had nothing of the pinlS-and-
white hectic loneliness so dear to lady
novelists, small, soft hand, a low,
musical voice and an utter unconscious
ness of her own undeniable prettiness--
in fact, a sweet, strong, pure-minded
girl, just blossoming into a promising
womanhood. Grace was the old mans
grandchild, the orphan daughter of his
only son, who had died with his young
wife ten years ago.
The Sabbath-day's work was over, and
the minister was on the point of retiring
to his well-earned rest, when a sharp
ring at the front-door bell announced a
late visitor.
BLESS my life," said the old parson,
who can be coming here ut this time
of night? Shouldn't wonder If Dea-
con Spencer's taken worse, and I'll
have to drive out to his place, and the
mares cast a shoe, and"
But by this time Grace had opened
the door and admitted lady.
Goodness gracious, Mary Besantr'
Miss Ruth ejaculated, holding up her
mittened hands in an ecstacy of sur
prise. "What in tho name of wonder
has brought you out of doors in the
dead of night?'
1t was barely ten o'clock by the Con-
necticut time-piece which licked over
the mantel-piece, but it was ''the dead
of night" to the village of Meltonburg,
whose silent streets at this hour showed
never q light, save when In some cot
tage window, where sickness was, a
lone lamp cleaned like a solitary star.
The visitor was a handsome woman of
forty years, who carried her age so we'll
that she might have passed for decade
younger, notwithstanding her tear
stained checks.
She ignored Grace's caressing greet
ing and Miss Ruth's inquiry, and turned
the battery of remonstrant eyes on the
minister, who stood uncomfortably ex-
pectant.
Then, with u world of reproach in her
accents, she said:
you have done your work we'll, sir
my Frank, my boy, is going to enlist.
He has told me the bitter truth tonight.
1 have gone down on my knees before
him and prayed him not to leave me;
but he is obdurate."
The minister was speechless. Even
the consciousness of having simply
done his duty was unbalanced by tho
I infinite pity he felt for the unhappy
mother; but Ruth was actuated by NO
such delicate sentiments, and, with a
sniff of defiance, boldly advanced to her
brothers rescue.
"Hoity-toity!'' she said. "Here's O
pretty to-do about nothing, Mary
Besant. I'd be ashamed of myself, if I
were you, making such fuss over the
lad. Is he made of different clay from
other young men, that he should be
tied to his mothers apron-string, when
his country needs his services? Do You
think that Stephen Williams and
Johnnie Black, and score of others in
the place who have gone to the front,
hadn't mothers to weep for them-just
us fond of them as you are of your
Frank-aye, and proud to think they
have strong sons willing to defend
them. Not go to the front, indeed