The Progress. (Shreveport, La.) 1892-1900, 1892-09-03

been too busy about other things to
think of them"
Mrs. Whitcumb, quivering more than
ever, did step aft through an uncar-
peted passage to what had been the din
ing room of the Bligh homestead. The
room was flooded with sunshine. There
were three large, high windows from
which the captain, in his manly i'm
patience Of swathings that shut out the
light, had torn down the curtains. A
cook stove had been set up near the
chimney, and Mrs. Martha's sharp nose
at once detected the odor of burning
teakettle. She stepped straight to the
stove and deftly lifted it off the fire.
The breakfast table, still uncleared, oc-
cupied the middle of the large room. 1t
was the captains practice to use all the
dishes in the house successfully and to
stack them in what he called the locker,
meaning the cupboard, to await the ar
rival Of his old woman helper who came
over once a week to wash up and tidy the
house. A pile Of red and yellow sQuashes
were penned up in one corner of the
room, and other hooks were filled with
litter of books, magazines and news
papers heaped on the floor.
A melancholy old white parrot, much
denuded of feathers about its scrawny
neck. sat DOING on a perch. On the
casing of one of the curtainless windows,
letting in pitiless floods Of daylight to
revel over the damaged and dusty con-
dition of Captain Bligh's belongings,
was stuck long row Of immense nee
dies with black and white threads dan
Cling, ready for immediate use in the
sewing ON of buttons and the drawing
up of rents in the captains wardrobe.
On the wall over his sea chest hung a
chronometer and a marine chart, and
the demijohn of whisky rescued from
the deep stood on the chimney piece
cluttered with pipes and garden tools,
currycombs and bootjacks.
Captain Bligh looked around rather
ruefully, as if the presence Of well
dressed woman had for the first time
made him conscious Of the clutter and
confusion and discomfort of his abode.
II know l amt shipshape, Mrs. Whit
cumb, but haven't much time to pipe
clay inside"
at amt right to live So" returned
Sister Martha, taking in the scene with
her housewifely glance. You're q
woman hater, Capn BGgh, and guess
you've found out you can't manage a
house as you would a three master"
A strange look came into the captains
face, something between a satirical
smile and terrible, black frown. II
don't suppose you have come here to
talk me over" he said sharply, as he
seated himself with his back to the light,
but where the Widow Whitcumb, gently
swaying back and forth her stout per-
son in the rocking chair, presented a
fair target for his keen eyes.
Eyes, have" she answered, plucking
up courage, as she fused with the
fringes Of her mantle. 1--WE come to
talk about what you air, and what you
might have been and ought to have been
"a better and happier man."
"Well," said he, in a tone Of grim re-
straint that his schooner hands under.
stood as sign Of tempest piping up in
the shrouds, pay out your hawser
If you must, Mrs. Whitcumb. I'll be
dumned if can make out your bear.
ings. or which way you are tryin to
steer"
Don't use foul langwidge, George
Bligh, in the presence of a woman.
Them sailor oaths are repugnant to my
feelins. It's not associatin with the sex
for so many years that's made you what
you are, George, and its the greatest OF
pities, for you had in you the maxim of q
fine mani may say splendid man.
And you know was Twin, when we both |
was young, at Mother Mayhew's as sort
of left handed connection of the fam.
lily, dom SEWN and helpin with the
Homework; and Vinie was Just grown up
then. Well, yes; do suppose Vinie was
as pretty as picture-all pink and white
and the sweetest hair falling around her
head in big loose ringlets. didn't won.
der you admired Vinie, George, but
knew then she hadn't any physical STAN.
my. Her hands were always weak and
white, she couldn't lift or work hard,
and you, George, needed a wife that
could help you along could go in and