Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1892-02-12
RUTH's FRIGHT.

~ WAS thc litn day OF November
''Guy Fawke Day" in the old almanac
that hung above the mantel in NV mn.
ternal grandmothcr's long disuscd room
upstaifss- 1T this northern home ia
which we had recently removed. falling
heirs to it through that very anccstrcss'
will, the dwellers regarded November
rather MS winter than an autumn
month, and to-day the wind howlcd and
tho rain battered with persistence mar.
vcllous to behold.
And, as 1t happened, was all alone
IN the hous.. Father had gone to take
his russell apples to market-thc apples
that l myself had helped to harvcs. and
pack i'll the barrel aud was not cx
pccted home until tomorrow night ut
the earliest. Jack, my brother, was in
Montreal, fitting up the law Office
which was hcnccforward to be his abode.
Joan, our ard-featurcd, cross grained
old servant, had gouc home with the
"rhcumatics," as she termed it, to be
treated by certain ancient Indian herb
doctor; and just ut dust.fall Peter, our
''uscful man." had thrust his shock head
nnccremoniousy in ut the door.
II say, Miss Ruth" he had said,
"thcrc's plenty of wood, and every
things all snug for the night. and Fin
going over to Stcphcnson's. They're in
trouble there"
"rroublc, Pcterl What kind of
trouble! Is the old man sicll?"
But in answer to my query Peter only
uttered nm indistinct rcmark and went
out, slammng the door behind him.
stood i'll front CT the fire Looking
down ut the glowing embers, and pom
derinS within myself. The Stephcnsons.
who lived i'll an old grey-stone house on
the other side of the precipitous glen.
had always been riddle to me. The
family was small, consisting only of n
grabbed old man, his portentously silent
wife, and two tall, ungainly sons; and
what on earth they did with all the bir.
echoing rooms, or how they contrived to
live, perchcd like caglcts on the side of
the rock, could not form the least idea.
"City boardcrs," Peter had once grunted
out IN answer to my persistent interro-
cations. But if they kept city boardcrs,
why did they not leave these drcarv
mountain businesses when the leaves fell
and the dismal autumn fogs gathered
above the cliffs! Altogether, there was
a certain atmosphere of mystery about
these ''Stephensons" that aroused all the
Eve like instincts of my nature.
While l still stood thinking, n soft
tap sounded ut the door. | opencd it nj
once never once remembering that l was
alone in the house.
I'VE never oughter'd do that, Mis-,
Ruth, said the well known accents OF
Mrs. Gludgc, Farmer Gludgc's buxon
wife,
! ''Do what, Mrs. Gludge?"
open the door after dark, whcr
you're alone in the house, without askin
who's there"
"How did you know 1 was alone in
the housed"
81 just met Peter goin' to Stephen
sons"
"oh!" said I. "But We don't hav,
tramps here, Mrs. Gludge."
"1'm not so certain O. that" said tb,
farmers wife. Your folks hain't lived
here as long as have. We're just nigh
enough to the Canada line to have queer
characters prowlin' about when We least
expect EN-. And then, there's Stephen.
sons"
"'. hat of stephensons?" I cried
eagerly. "Who is Stephenson, anyway
Do tell me, Mrs. Gludge."
''Well, declared" said Mrs. Gludoe
"ls it possible, now, that they hahn
told your"
"They have told me nothing, said I.
"Well, it's likely they didn't want to
scare you or make you nervous" said
Mrs. Gludge. "But, all the same, ]
think you'd oughter know"
"Mrs. Gludge," cried I, Selling hcl
arm, "what is it2 Do tell mel"
"Its a private home," said Mrs
Gludge, lowering her voice to whisper,
as though the rain drops and the rustiina
fir boughs could overhear.
"a whats" gaspcd.
"For people of feeble mind" ex
planned the woman, sand lunies )" tap
ping her forehead, as she spoke.
Istared at her.