Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-03-12

takes in sewin', and as her name
chances to be Grahame, perhaps it's her
you're loolxin' for-hope yer are, I'm
sure, for she owes me three weeks rent.
an pore lone widow woman like me
can't afford to have no young person
hangin' around the house, even If they
do call themselves ladics-'tain't to be
expected"
"Can see this lady?''
"'Course yer can. Go up to the top
OF the house-fourth story, second door
on yer right. Guess the sewinsma-
chine mans up there now, an wish
yer'd tell her that II the gentleman ia
drove ter take the machine away, an
she loses the means Of gettin' her livin',
out she goes bag and baggage"
The farmer reached the girls door
just In time to hear the end of an ami
mated discussion carried on In male and
female accents.
''Oh, please, you must not, cannot
take it away" the feminine voice
pleaded. II have paid you six pounds,
and only owe you sixteen shillings.
Pray have little patience. am sick
now. but shall soon get better and will
pay you every penny"
Let gol tell you, let goi'' the
hoarse voice of the man cried, ''the
machine is forfeited. Let go, I tell
you or I'll"
What he would do the world never
knew, for at that instant the burly
form of the farmer darkened the door
way. Barlow did not stay to consider
how he should open the discussion, but
plunged at the hapless agent, grasping
at one handful the mans ear and the
long locks contingent. Thus he dragged
him, shrieking with rage and pain, to
the stair landing, when one kick from
the farmers heavy shoes sent the poor
wretch headlong down the stairs, his
cries and curses mingliug with the
landlady's screams.
Yes, in this bare, miserable garnet
stood Sir Harry Grahame's heiress-
beautiful as Madonna, but with all
the sunny brightness faded out of her
winsome features. Tears rolled down
the farmers cheeks as he grasped her
hands.
my birdie! My poor, lost, foolish
birdie!" he cried, as he drew her to him.
One glad glance shot from her eyes,
and she fell fainting into his arms
Then you should have seen the
vagaries of the sturdy farmer. He
roared for help, and first almost terri
fed the landlady out of her wits by his
denunciations of her inhumanity, and
then drove her frantic with JOY at the
glittering heap of shillings and half
sovereigns he poured onto her lap. You
should have seen the big basket Of del
icacies he fetched into that cherries
chamber; you should have witnessed
his burst of joy when the doctor told
him that if he would only moderate his
transports, and not excite the patient,
he might remove her TO Wiloughby
farmhouse that very night.
AS for Kate Grahame, she was too
weak to offer any opposition, and, like
a sensible girl, without an effort of re-
monstrance yielded to his tender solicit
tude. Poor girl, she reached that haven
of rest just in time, for even her superb
health broke down under the long spell
of anxiety and distress, and for a
month she lay lowering between life
and death in the "best chamber" of the
quaint old house, tended by the gentlest
of nurses in the persons Of Dame Bar
low and her pretty daughter, while,
after time, their ministrations were
supplemented by the presence of Miss
BalderStone, who somehow or other
made peace with the yoeman and CRATE
fully accepted his permission to be en-
rolled as one Of the loving attendants
on the sick girl.
No wonder then that in such comfor-
table quarters and under such tender
care the flush came back to Kate's
cheeks, and the elasticity to her step,
though when the first furry of snow
bore the glad tidings of the near approach
of Christmas, the yeoman much mis-