The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-03-18


son that, and such q fuss about doln' his
cookin' right. and such fads about all that
had to do with him, that | was reg lar
sick of his very name. Perhaps you'll
think / was Jealous OF him, butthat wasn't
it. NV mind had been made UP about
dislikin him as soon as ! set eyes on him.
He wasn't a favoright in gineral, neither,
for he'd hard temper and bitter tongue.
1t may have been in the shadow OF what
was to come that fell so dark betwixt me
and him; Pm not oliver enough to make
out such things, but whether or no, took
again him before he ever saw Margaret,
and make no doubt he had much the
same feeling for me, though he wouldn't
have condescended to own 1t.
I'd been stiddy for along spell then. I'd
been wondering if, now that she and
were both of an age to think of sweet
hearting might work my way up bit,
so as 10 count for more in my uncle's sight.
But when / came home night after night,
and found Mr.. Henderson sitting Just
where L used to sit, with good cigar be-
tween his teeth-which he always asked
Meg's leave to light-talking away, and
maxim hisself as agreeable as never was,
and ookin' at me as If he wondered how
had the cheek TO come and sit down
with the likes of him--then | used to
after I'd eat my supper in the back place
began TO keep out of his way. I'd stink
out o. the back door and get rid Of the
time as best could, and not allsys TO my
own credit.
needn't tell YOU how miserable was
in them days and nights. At my work |
went over and over the good times we'd
had before Mr.. Henderson got in the light,
and from that to the grudge had against
him for his stuck-up ways. Then I'd
puzzle my head whether Meg cared most
for me or for him. With him she was
rather stand-of and quiet; il was plain TO
see she KEEP him at distance; when he
| talked TO her she answered him respeck-
fui as if she always bore in mind that he
was above her in station, and when he
was not there she scarce spoke of him at
all. Sometimes I'd tell myself she did all
this because she didn't care a rap about
him, and yet couldn't venture to send
him about his business; but other times
turned the matter the other way, and
felt sure she fought shy Of him because
she thought more of him than OF them as
she treated freer and easier.
With SIGH thoughts in my head all day,
felt gloomy and sulky o nights, and when
1 sneaked out o. the back door, as I've
said, IL was TO drown them il ] could, and
no matter how.
At last, one wet Sunday evening in the
winter, when my uncle and aunt had gone
10 church and Meg was stayin' to keep
house, made up my mind that now or
never the time had come for me to find
out how matters were TO turn betwixt us,
and whether was to be happy or miser-
able for the rest o. my days. Mr.. Hender-
son was gone 10 Stafford for the day, 80 |
| \ he hot
the cast would be clear OF him. There
was no light in the room but the fire,
which wasn't very bright, neither, and for
half n minute L though. she wasn't there.
But she spoke out OF the duskiness near
the winder.
Come in, Amos" she said: "its mas
| ~. wet night outside, amt it2'
! ,,"Why, Maggie, you're all in the dark,
/ said, as CROPPED my way past the chairs;
wouldn't it be moro cheerlul-like II We
lit up?"
Just as you please, Amos-if you don't
think the firelight's good enough for talk
ing BY" che made answer.
Now wanted TO see her face better
than could by the Pickering light o the
| blaze; besides, il wasn't like her 10 DO
sittin' so-it seemed unnatural so turned
on the gas and put match to IL.
| w ntl WeIo you dOlltk tlo
sic? began, as l sat down beside her.
| II was hard 10 make n start on what
wanted TO say-that did as well as any
think else.
81 was thinkin', Amos" she said.
"And what were you thinkin' OF, lassie2
Was ii, mayhap, about me"
81 was thinkin' o. many things, Amos,
and you among EN-" she said.
"1hat's all right" | answered. "I'm
glad to hear you haven't give up thinkin'
about me-"
"Why, Amos" she said, "what do you
say that for2 Am l one 10 change toward
them care for?"
She looked at me as she said IL, and il 1
could speak as scholards can, I'd tell you
how different her look was from any
other L ever saw; but can't, so l wont
make mess of IL by trying.
Meg, my lass" / began, 1--WE got sum
mat on my mind-summ6t i must say 10
YOU" ] lcant nearer 10 her rs ] spoke
and put my hand on her two. "Let me
hold your hand while | tell you, Maggie
| though after all there's no need for any
tellin' you must a. know'd IL all along"
| could hear my voice went queer and
| quivery az | spoke and could see In her
| face that she heard II, too, for she looked
u bit scared like and drew back from me-
"Amos," she said. in a sort Of hurry, 81
couldn't be quite sure OF what you want
10 say TO me but can pretty well guess.
Don't zee say it, Amos; i'll be better loft
| unsaid."
"What do you mean by that, Meg2' |
cried firing mp. "What I've got To say
I'll say-and YOU must hear it, becos
there's naught but your answer that can
settle it,"
But she stopped me again.
Don't be vexed, Amos" she said softly:
"don't take IL amiss that j cut you short
what you've begun. Listen 10 this.
AS we are good friends aren't we,
Amos?-just az brother and sister should
be; but you might say words, and SO
might |, that would put oil that wrong,
and then it nd be very hard to pull it to
rights again. Can't you understand why
/ stop you, Amos2 It's better for us both
Pm sure it is"
She was right, as she mostly was when
We differed, and was wrong | knew IL
at the time, but [ wouldn't be shut up.
Margaret Kerr" said, don't say you
won't hear me-you shall; it's my right
TO be heard. Do you think I'm going 10
drag on day after day without tellin' you
that don't mean 10 be brother and sister
any longer-that want you for my wife?
Why, lass, it begun ten years ago. what L
feel for you did, and will last AL my life.
| lNhot go, 10 I,.t cYaok ~ ifoO