The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-07-26
BARITONE'S WIDOW.
How a Mercenary Lover Received
His just Deserts.

The cool June light was sitting
through the screen OF grape-lcaves that
vailed the mill1-room window from tho
1nquisitive glare of the sun; the bunch
OF scarlet ficld-lilies in the handless
blue pitcher was scarcely faded yet;
and Columbine Carter, Swimming the
lcathcry folds of wrinklfng cream from
the broad pans, wore heightened col
or on her checks us she listened to Miss
Dccima Johnson's words.
"Will Huncrslie going to marry the
widow Baritonc?" said she. ~ don't
believe d word of it,"
"l GU can believe 1t or not, lust rs
you choose, Biny Carter" said Miss
Decima. bridling; ''but it's as true Us
the text of Parson Dillinghnm's next
Sunday sermon. Why shouldn't he
marry her, I'd like to knowPt'
Biny CarteP-pronounced "Deeny'-.
was fair and plump and smooth
skinned, with tender blue eyes, and
lips rcdder than any wild plum. Miss
Decima was snllow and specialized, with
angles enough for new edition of
Euclid"
Zone reoson Isl" Biny answered,
slowly, 'Tha+ he is engaged to me-"
THAT don't make no difference
said Miss Decima, with malicious
chuckle; now that breach-o'-prumise
cases are out of fashion men think they
can do as they please And Mrs. Bari
tone Is h very nicc-looking woman yet,
If she rs gone sixty, and you know
there's the legacy she's just received
from old Uncle Baritone's bachelor
brother, up in Utica. And VIII Ham
erslie always did set store by money!!
His father, as everyone knows, was a.
miser before himp
Biny Carter went ON skimmine her
milk with compressed lips and a new
sparkle in her eyes. She was too proud,
before Decima Johnson, to let the tears
fall, which were already obscuring her
vision.
'Of course he can do as he pleasas.s
said she.
"Oh, of course. Nobody Doubts that"
retorted Decima Johnson. "But the
main thing I came for was to ask if You
were going to the donation party to-
morrow afternoon"
NO" said Biny, shortly; father
does not approve of donation parties"
"Miss Baritone and VIII Hamerslie
are to be there" slyly suggested Miss
Decima.
care they?~ said Biny. ~Thatmaies
no difference to me-"
''Ohl'' said DeciDa; und then, seeing
old Squire Ball jogging past in his road
wagon, she suddenly remembered that.
she had promised crochet pattern to
Mrs. Ball; and, taking hurried leave
of Biny Carter, she bounced out into
the fervid summer glow of the outside
world and disappeared.
Then, and not until then, Biny sat
down by a bubbling little spring
walled up In the corner OF the milk
room and cried.
care all men like that, wonders'
said Biny, addressing her own reflection
in the limpid pool "Yf they are,
think I'll go and be nun. Mrs. Bari.
tone, indeed! A woman old enough to
be his mother! And the widow of that
drunken old fiddler who fell over the
Lime Cliffs, threeyears ago, and per-
ished as miseraSly as he had lived
And all because of-e legacy! Oh, I've
no patience with peoplel"
And then Biny cried harder than
SNSAS anu IElCtl w COnNlLCO LndU
the whole story was not true, but
only an ofsshot of Decima Johnson's
imagination.
But it acdS true. In some things Miss
Decima Johnson's tongue had only
borne a correct witness. Willard Ham
erslie had inherited somewhat of his
misery fathers gripping, grinding tenn
permanent. He was emphatically q
money worshiper, and had allowed
himself to be dazzled by the widow
Baritone's legacy
Mrs. Baritone herself was trim,
neat-wnisted little woman. who looked
many years younger than her actual
age. People were uncharitable enough
to say that she had become young since
the sudden death of her husband, whose
numerous faults and backslidings had
kept her perpetually ON tho ragged
edge of apprehension
''He was trial, Baritone was, con-
fesscd the widow, candidly. There
amt no denyin' that But never
knew how much store set by him
Until they brought homo his poor, bat
tered hat out of the lime kiln, and told