The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1893-05-24

said Betsy.
"Know himl OF course / should"
said Miss Mary. "He will find me in
the old place-he will know where to
come. So, dear Betsy, leave the door
always open"
But this Betsy firmly declined to do.
She was "not going to risk having her
wits frightened out of her by thieves"
she declared, whatever Miss Mary
might say or do" So she drew the
line at the garden gate and always left
that unfastened. If this ill-advised
proceeding give tramps admittance
into the tool house or coal cellar, why
what matter? "They was Miss Mary's
Goals She might do as she liked"
Sometimes destitute old ladies would
use the coal cellar as kind of casual
ward and condescend to spend the night
there, leaving the remains of their
breakfasts and few of their rags as
presents behind them. Betsy bore it
all uncomplainingly knowing what
Miss Mary's trouble" had been.
1t was mercy" she thought to
herself, " that it didn't take her in no
other way"
But to Miss Mary the trouble"
in the course of years became almost
Joy. 1t faded from a blood-red inten-
sity to roseate afterglow. She Rugged
herself, so TO speak, with the recolec-
ton of what had been. Her youthful
lover became brighter, fairer, dearer
even than ever he had been in the far
away reality. She envied not the lot
of other women with husbands, babies,
grown-up sons. Their life partners
NTH
hers, glorilied into the regions of ro-
nance, d" orbed into the perfect star "
of forty years ago.
" He was brave, handsome, chival-
rous," she would say to herself, men
tally comparing her lover of former
years with Mrs. Browns burly coal
merchant or Mrs. MINIS drunken boor.
And as for other women's babies,
their charms also paled by contrast
with Miss Mary's "dream children"
The fond maternal feeling that is the
basis of every true woman's life found
its echo even here, and the little old
lady's imaginary darlings helped to
make her days less empty. "My boy
Claude would have been just 25, my
daughter Emmeline just 20, and how
like her father" she would murmur
when in the glimmering twilight she
would imagine these treasures beside
her, in the land of what Knight have
BEEN" But Miss Mary's citation was
all for the solitude of her own heart.
Like her namesake of old, she hid all
these things. Only Betsy knew OF
guessed at a quarter of her poor old
mistress fancies.
Time wore on, and it seemed as il
nothing would occur to disturb the
even tenor of the two solitary women's
lives-that they would go down to the
grave in au uneventful and peaceful
silence. But fate willed otherwise
One night-it was in early autumn
Miss Mary was aroused at nine O'Clock
by loud knocking at the outer door
1t was Sunday night, and she was alone
in the house. The faithful Betsy had
gone to her Primitive Methodists, ano
Miss Mary, who had been ailing of late
with cough, had not attended bel
usual Sunday evening service at church
The loud knocking startled her, as we
said-she was nervous soul--and she
opened the door timidly. A rough
looking man stood there, his gaunt fig
ure showing black against the moon
light.
" For Gods sake hide me here for &
few minutes" he pleaded hoarsely
"till the police have gone by. Let me
: in, or, by heaven, I may as we'll throw
} up the camel"
Miss Mary's heart thumped loudly
= The police! For all her chartableness
: she had drawn the line hitherto a
thieves. But the mans face was white
, and she heard Gathering of feet dowr
l the road-probably the police. Betsy
the guardian angel, was out of the wa,
humanity, as usual, won over pru
dence-Miss Mary opened the door.
" You may lie on these rugs in thu
r Kitchen" she said to him kindly, I" ant
tomorrow l will bring you some break
fast if you will go away early before m.
r servant gets up"
The man murmured incoheren
: thanks. Miss Mary, being nervous
forbore to look at him and retired Il
her own apartment, not without SOM
1 qualms of conscience. Betsy, VIII,
5 came in later with the latch key from
chapel, suspected nothing, but Mis-
Mary's evil fate willed that toward thu
e small hours Of the morning she woul'
: wake up hungry. Being frail, timi'
d. old lady, she slept lightly, and now, re
3 Numbering that the biscuits were dow
8 stairs on theldining-room sideboard, sh
e wandered down stairs in search of them
4 She had forgotten for the moment al
4 about her last nights visitor and slipped
q down as noselessly as a mouse. Blu
a what was her horror to see by the fain
n morning light at the half-open dinin
d room door figure moving? Miss Mary
as she stifled shrek, recognized th
d man she had befriended. He was hold
a ing her silver teapot up to the light an
: inspecting it carefully-the same silve
e teapot bought by its owner during he
b brief period of happiness forty years age
n She had invested her savings in it prio
e to her expected marriage.
:. What, would you rob me ?" though
d Miss Mary, and her heart waxed fierce
d Rob her, who had so long befriende,
d the needy and the destitute! But, Xix
S Bishop Myriel with his silver candle
e sticks, her anger was of short duration
She would let the man go. Probabl
l. l.. Al.