The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-06-24

hill, old Moses loaded up his cart, with
the rusty wood-stove in the center of
the bags Of rags and bundles of old
newspapers, and drove away, juggling
his bells through the purple twilight,
to the infinite disgust of the gray horse
who knew an Eden of clover and daisies
when he found it and was correspond
ingly reluctant to leave it.
Presently Comfort Ralston came in; a
tall, rosy girl with limpid brown eyes
and luxuriant auburn locks pushed off
her fair, freckled brow.
Am l late, mother?" said she. "But
they kept me longer than l expected"
LA, child, no." Mrs. Ralston re-
sponded. Il hain't but jest hung the
kittle over. I'm sort O. b%ehindhand to-
night. Old Nose Minton has been he-e,
but don't, for goodness sake, tell your
father! And I've sold the rags and all
them old papers and the wood stove
out in the shed"
Mother! The wood stove?"
Il got forty-five cents for it," said
Mrs. Ralston. ''And it wasn't no use
to us, all rusting away there"
HAS he gone, mother?!"
your father? Why, no, he's busy
with them apricots out by the orchard
wall for"
No, | don't mean father, I mean
Moses Minton! Has he gomez"
more than half an hour ago." said
Mrs. Ralston, scooping the tea out of a
little japanned tea-caddy with leisurely
composure.
Comfort turned red, then white. She
made a step toward the door, but al
most instantly checked the movement.
Its no use" she said to herself. II
must wait until tomorrow
The morrow's sun was well slopinp
on toward afternoon, when Mr.. Raj
ston hurried into the kitchen where his
wife was pricking plums to preserve,
piercing each purple sphere with a re-
lentless fork.
Mother" said he, "be l gettin' blind
as we'll as deaf, or be | losin' my senses?
II l amt, where's that old sheet-iron
stove as used to be in the corner of the
woodhouse?"
Mrs. Ralston's guilty conscience sent
the red in a hot flood to her cheeks.
THAT sheet-iron stove, Simeon" said
she. "Why-I sold it,"
sold it, shouted Ralston. s'Wheno
Why?" ss..st.
Yesterday AFTERNOON" said the old
lady. ITO Nose Minton. as goes around
with the rag-and-bottle wagon. 1t
wasn't no use standln' there-and he
gin me forty-five cents for it."
"~Forty-ive cents!' roared Ralston.
'For-ty-fce-cents."
And he rushed frantically out of the
house.
Mercy on me-" said Mrs. Ralston.
us father crazy?"
About hat time. Mrs. Minton, the
tall and gaunt helpmeet of the itinerant
hero, was down in the cellar of her
house, roofing in the ash drawer Of the
identical wood stove which her husband
had bought yesternight; while Comfort
Ralston, upstairs, awaited the result of
her Investigations with a p~alpitating
heart.
Here it u.s." said Mrs. Minton. "a
fiat packet O. papers. And it's a good
thing you thought of it afore Nose had
carted it Off"
"Quick! Give it to me-" futtered Com
fort, as she caught sight of her fathers
figure trudging up the lane. Let me
get away before father comes. Mind,
Mrs. Minton, not a word of this to
him.
And away she ran, disappearing into
the pine wood before Mrs. Minton could
realize what it all meant.
well, [ never!!" said Mrs. Minton.
Then it's true that she and Ben Blifl
are engaged ag'in' her fathers wishes!
And these is love letters. Well, l do
declare! Nobody needn't never tell me
that there amt no romance, even in the
rag-and- bottle business!'
Then entered Mr.. Ralston, painting
and perspiring with the haste he had
made.
"Be you Mis- Minton?" was his curt
address.
Eyes, please, sir said the old wom-
an, smoothing her stifhy starched white
apron.
Your husband bought a sheet-iron
stove at our place yesterday-the Raj
ston farm-didn't he?"
Eyes, sir" Il little timidly. 'sIt's in
his way of business, you know, sir"
"Yes, l know. But there was a pack
age of papers in the p~ipe-joint-'
mo, sir, it WANT said Mrs. Minton,
temporarily thrown off her guard. ut
was in the ash-drawer, for"
And then, remembering herself, she
screwed her lips close together and grew
very red.
Where is the stove?" calculated Raj
ston.
Down cellar, SIR" said Mrs. Minton.
7Look for yourself. I'm sure | don't