The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1892-11-26

meek Mrs. Snively. Pm sorry l dis
turbed you.
Huh! You'd better make youl
apologies to the Lord, grunted Mis-:
lie Croix, taking rp the praye1
book which lay beside her reclining
chair, and in which she always read
before eating.
Mrs. Snively thought that a queer
remark even from Miss lie Croix,
but bowed herself confusedly out O
the room, carrying Miss LIE Croix'
vase to fill it with fresh flowers.
When this was done, and Mr..
Grumpy's parrot fed. Now, said
Mrs. Snivelv, I'll do my marketing
for Sunday, and then cook what |
can all rea'y for tomorrow.
So she put on her''marketing garb,
a uniform only less wonderful than
her housekeeping attire, and with
an immense basket on her arm,
sailed forth.
1t was a beautiful summer day,
and strangely quiet. How pleasant
it is, chirped Mrs. Snively to her
self, and how every one smiles at
me. This is a CHEEKY world after
all, if am a forlorn old woman in
it. How finely people are getting
to dress. I'm sure / don't see
how they afford it, muttered she, as
a group of young ladies passed her
in beautiful gowns of shimmering
summer goods. And then she
thought of her Sunday silk, lying
undisturbed for fourteen months in
the trunk at home, and wondered
whether it had become spotted. She
would examine it as soon as she got
home.
Her CHEEKY mood was dampened
by an encounter with the pastor of
her church, the Rev. DR.. Bookster,
seemed to answer her hearty bow
rather sternly. He needn't look so
mad, she grumbled to herself. Good
ness knows | GO to church as often
as l can. If he had to keep house
for nine cross grained mortals as l
do, he wouldn't go to church but
once in fourteen months either.
Mrs. Snively soon grew jolly
again, as laughing, happy crowd
of children came jostling toward her,
books and papers in their hands.
Schools out early this afternoon,
thought Mrs. Snively. And dear
me, what sweet little darlings. But
| don't think it's right to dress chill
dren up so. just to send them to
school. Now do look at that silk
waist! and that little chaps vel
veteen. When l was girl, calico
was plenty good enough for school.
But moneys getting abundant now
adays, 'cepting in certain tin box l
know of.
A square or two further she
began to come to the stores. What's
the postofice closed for. Some gov
ernment holiday, l suppose. Gov
ernment seems to have twice as
many holidays as ordinary folks,
any way. And Holllngway's closed,
too! Now l do hope his wife isn't
dead. She was real bad, last l
heard. Why, of all the world!
Here Mrs. Snively's surprise be-.
came inarticulate, for she turned
corner on long row OF stores, all
closed and the curtains down.
Here was the market where ssii'
must 60 first, all shut up ,sano
the door locked. for she tried 1t.
What's wanted. Mrs. Snively SAID
the owner, jolly young man, who
lived above his shop and who
chanced to come out at this moment
very neatly attired. Getting con-
tributions for the heather, Mrs.
Snively, in that big basket
l want to know, John Boardman,
began Mrs. Snively smartly. why
all these business houses closed
What sort of newtangled holiday
is this? You'll have it next so that
one can shop only one day in the
week.
Why, Mrs. Snively, don't you
believe in keeping Sunday?
Sunday! John Boardman, are
you telling me that this is Sunday?
Of course it's Sunday! Why,
what did
But Mrs. Snively, big basket, mar
keting uniform and all, a scared,
futtering, comical little figure, was
already half square away, scudding
along with sore heart, half shrink
ing, half defiant.
Well, no wonder, groaned she.
The same life, week in, week out.
One day like the rest. No one to
talk TO except the dodgers, and then
only about eating l have no Sum-
day in my life, and that's a fact.
What are you giggling at, you
impudent little brat? This to an
urchin trotting from Sunday School
who stopped to gaze in undisguised
wonder at the big basket.
Mrs. Snively went home through
by-streets, feeling wofully conspi-
cuous, and quite like feminine Rip
Van Winkle. When she reached
her great, lonely house, she set the
big basket down on the kitchen
table, and herself on kitchen chair
and stout hearted till then, INDUCED
in good cry. 1t was not merely