Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-10-13
THE CITY BOARDER.


"oh, she is, is shey" responded the
farmer dryly. He loosened the windlass
and dropped the bucket down into the
cool depths as he answered.
"And she's rigged out to kill in a
sprigged muslin, jest covered with lace
ruffiin," went on his wife, with an ag-
gravated envy which only a woman can
feel, land ribbons-my! no end of EN-
and big leghorn hat loaded down
with flowers, and white par'sol. If
she wears them things common, what
can she have for meetin, Jabez?"
Whatever wise opinion Jabez may
have entertained it was lost to the world,
being uttered inarticulately from the
bottom of large tin dipper.
white shoes and stockin's, too, and a
pink silk petticoat. Ny land! what are
folks comm to? read a piece in the
paper the other day sayin they was fash'n-
able, but never s'posed twas anything
but newspaper talk. Her father must
be pretty well off. She thought mebbe
she'd walk up the hill to see the view.
She says she's dreadful fond of nature" !"
"Humph?" Farmer Hinkley mopped
his fevered brow. "Waal, it's lucky she's
fond of it, for that's about all there is
goin on round here. She wants to learn
to milk" His great sunburned face
shone with amusement, and he winked
one blue eye under the shaggy brow that
half hid it. ~ guess I'll learn her with
Spotty."
"Ain't Spotty the one that kicks so?"
Her husband nodded.
"Waal, you shan't do no such thing.
Jabez Hinkley. Amt you ashamed of
yourself? She's real pretty spoken, and
l shan't have no tricks played on her
while she stays here. My! 1 guess if
here amt nothing wuss about folks
than their bein dressy they'll have to
fill up the aisles in heaven with camp
chairs to get 'em all in"
"Waal, I'm goin back. l guess we
shall git that hay in this mornin. l
want to hurry 'em up so as to take hold
of the 10-acre lot tomorrow. You be
sure and ring the dinner bell good and
loud SOS l shall hear it."
"You come in right off when Iring an
clean up little. You amt goin' to set
down to the table in your shirt sleeves,
now we've got boarders."
If Jabez Hinkley had been born in
Paris he would have shrugged his shoul-
ders as he walked off. But as the only
world he had ever looked upon was up
among the New Hampshire hills, the
only expression he gave to his feelings
upon the subject of dressing for dinner
was to jam his dilapidated straw hat
down firmly ON his head and hitch up his
trousers before he made MS way out
again into the broiling sunshine of the
July day.
Mrs. Hinkley forgot all about her pies
in the oven. A deeper feminine note
than her housekeeping pride had been
touched, and she stood under the big
elm by the well gazing off persistently
upon the stretch of yellow road that
wound past the farm gate and up Buz
yards hill. A turning had hid the sol
itary walker momentarily from sight
but presently the figure appeared again
relieved jauntily against the sky, with
the white parasol like q nimbus arount
its head. There was coquettish, world
ly air about its slender height, suggest
ing forcibly the Newport Casino, or the
beach at Narragansett Pier, or the fisl
pond at Rodick's, and graceful ease il
its languid gait which could only have
been acquired on city pavements. Blu
these were lost on the observer, who's,
eyes rested hungrily upon the crisl
white gown invested with the indescrib
able something Of style and distinction
recognized and offered homage by ever,
woman w hatever her degree.
Poor Mrs. Hinkley had never ownet
we'll fitting dress in her life. She hat
never seen one of Doucet's masterpiece
before.
II guess" she said to herself in astut
reflection, Il guess she has her thing
made out"
All, didn't she have her things mad
out! Miss Mary Grinnell's poor pap
could have answered for that as he file,
away the bills for her summer wardrob
an array Of marvellous confections in
tended to do execution at half doze,
watering places. Why, after all thes
expensive preparations made with glet
full anticipations, his charming daughte
should have elected suddenly to spen
the summer with Aunt Matilda, on
New Hampshire farm, was myster
that this wise parent did not attempt
solve.
| He simply set it down at once as on
of those things never to be revealed, lik
the whereabouts of the north pole an
the real author of Shakespeare's play
asked no questions, raised no objections
checked the trunks and saw the tw
ladies safely into the train. Aunt M,
tilda, with kodak, library of Frenc
fiction and small botanical press, an
her niece, wearing a curious, half d.
fant expression, not at all unbecomint
In fact, it gave her new attraction
the eyes of young man who watche
the parting from the distance smiling
himself, as if secretly amused, and tai
ing his seat in another car as the trai
rolled out of the station, snorting an
putting mockingly.
The farmhouse was blow to Mi
Mary's feelings. There had been plai
supper of baked beans, and smoked bee
and soggy bread, and pie and chees
with plenty of milk, to be sure, but mil
Just warm from the COW. And then Il
evening had settled down-the lonl
lonely summer evening. Aunt Matili
sat by the student lamp inside absorbe
in one of Gyp's novels and oblivious
mosquitoes, ,swhile Mary, strolling on
side, fingered on the piazza, while
sickly moon peered at her between Il
pine boughs, and through the air, swe