Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1892-06-03

- VI camphor- c n t e d
r ~ neighbor n tn e
the Abbey Arms-litsle boy to be left at
Doctor Stokum's school-and you, miss"
with nod at meg, "for Skeleton
Grange2"
"Skeleton Grange!" I cried, with
start that knocked the camphor bottle
from the hand of my neighbor and seri-
ously incommoded the fat gentleman in
the opposite corner.
"Lor'. miss" said the man, a slow
mile overspreading his countenance,
ait amt the real name Of the place. It's
what the folks hereabouts calls it. Short,
miss, for Skellington. 1t was built by
old Squire Skellington, in the year
$780,"
"Oh!" said I, sinking back into my
seat with little nervous laugh, while
every one else regarded me with frozen
etares of disapproval, including the lady
who was sopping the split camphor
from her lap with pocket handkerchief,
and the old gentleman whose wig had
been knocked on one side by my sudden
movement.
For, you see, was only eighteen, and
was going to my first situation, as
reader and companion to Mrs. Pinkney,
of The Grange, near Port Kent, on Lake
Champlain.
It was necessary for some of US to earn
our own bread, as my mothers little
school had not proved a success, and
both Elaine and Emily were younger
and more timid than [ was.
The preliminary arrangements had all
been transacted through a mutual &C.
commodation bureau in New York.
had been given to understand by the lady
in charge that my position would be
very desirable, if could be sufficiently
fortunate to suit the fancy of Mrs. Pink
ney, who was an elderly lady of excel
lent means and some eccentricity.
Well, here I was at last, en- route for
The Grange, my railway novel read to
the last page, the contents Of my lunch
basket all eaten, and crimson sunset
flooding the beautiful surface of Lake
Champlain with the loveliest of glows,
and just as was admiring the red-tiled
roots of long, low house, embowered
in elms and beeches, the stage came to a
stop, and the driver bawled out:
passengers for Skeleton Gra-a angel
NV insignificant little trunk was lifted
down, bell in the stone gate-post was
violently rung, and stood knee-deep in
tall, Towering grasses, looking forlorniy
after the disappearing coach, as the eyes
of shipwrecked mariner might follow
the vanishing masts of some retreating
vessel which bears heart and hope away
with it.
sis this The Grange? Is Mrs. Pink
ney at home2 l am Miss Carrick, thu
companion, from New York, pleased"
faltered out the words in sort o
terror, induced by the sudden and start
ling appearance of little old woman, il
a black silk quilted hood and cloak, who
had hobbled out of the house by the alt
of a knotted stick and unlocked thu
gate with shining brass key.
She nodded her head to my interroga
tories and favored me with long star
IN answer to my last statement.
Then, stopping to lift one end of m,
trunk, she said, briskly
''Can ee lift t'other end eeself2 E
amt no menfolk about place an ain
overly strong meself."
obeyed with slacrity, being ycun!
and vigorous, and the trunk not especi
ally heavy, and thus I made my appear
ance before a tall, spare woman of sixty
with dress of lustreless black silk, gilt
tering gold eyeglasses, and a fine Roman
profile, who stood on an Eastern ru
before a blazing wood fire.
The walls were covered with old an
cestral portraits, whose steady star
added to my confusion; every nook an
corner was crowded full of Chinese dra
gons, Chippendale cabinets, Old china O.
brackets, and grotesquely- embroidere'
screens.
''Ah," said the tall lady, ''you are th
Teader and compartment"