The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1893-09-02

As Mr.. Upton lay asleep that
night, h dreamed that he was boy
again, at an old fashioned husking
bee; that the corn was all husked
and the barn floor cleared of, and
and that he and Stella-not pale,
silent Mrs. Martin, but the gold
haired, laughing Stella of twenty
years ago-were going down the
lorg links Of the Virginia reel to the
mad music of Rory O. More"
He sat up in bed ard rubbed his
eyes, vas it real music or a dream?
Or was it
Burglars Burglars! squeaked
Hester, banging at his door. Please,
Mr.. Upton, get your gun! He's
under the window! | seen him with
my own eyes With all his bur-
glaring tools on his arm!
In an instant, as it SCENE d, Mr..
Upton was creeping along under
the shadow Of the white blossomed
syringa bushes, with his carbine On
his shoulder. The moon, a paid,
gibbous line Of light, blinked down
through the boughs Of the button
ball tree. A distant owl hooted
from the swamps, as Mr.. Upton
made plunge at his prey.
ScoundreI, I've got you! he
roared.
Villain, unhand me! thundered a
deep bass voice.
A brisk schuffle ensued, during
which the old rhine went off, dis
charging its contents-a sudden
CLEAN of fame and smoke-into the
leaves of the buttonball tree. Mrs.
Martin, who had rushed into Phebe's
room, flung her arms around the
girl.
Don't be frightened, dear! said
she.
Oh, I'm not frightened! said
Phebe, who had lighted candle,
and now looked very Juliet like, in a
long dressing gown, with her yellow
halr flowing luxuriaDtly down her
back. l knew he would come
Knew he would come? repeated
Mrs. Martin. The-burglar!
Oh, it ism burglar, murmured
Phebe. Its Harry!
Harry?
My Harry! said Phebe, turning a
soft pink to the very roots of her
hair. They thought they would part
US, but they can't! He has followed
me, and had been serenading me
under the window! Didn't you hear
the banjo?
Goodness me! said Mrs. Martin.
And, vehemently added Pnebe.
I'll be true to him, foi ever and
everl
But the colloquy was presently
interrupted by a sound in the hall
below, as Of some heavy body tum-
bling over and over with cease
less persistence. Both women fled
to the door and peeped nervously
over the stair rail, while Hester,
from behind the mahogany linen
press, shrieked: Murder! Help!
Murder! without second of inter-
mission.
Here's the villain! shouted Mr..
Upton, rolling over and over like
cider barrel.
I've got him! roared the bass
voice of Phebe's Harry.
The underhand miscreant! foamed
the farmer.
Madder than March hare! utter
ed Harry, at last succeeding in
scrambling to his feet. Look here,
old gentleman, what does all this
mean! If you are burglar, say so!
| am not!
Harry, chirped Phebe, be merci-
full, as you are strong. For my
sake, harm not my uncle!
But Hester, charging into the
affray with a pair OF tongs, soon
changed the aspect of affairs. Ex-
planatlon ensued-rage changed
into laughter-and Mrs. Martin went
upstairs to prepare quaint apart
ment, commonly known as the Oak
Room, for the reception OF the trou-
badOur who had so nearly been shot
for burglar.
And, look here, young man, said
Mr., Upton, the next time you come
proving around house at I. a. m,
come to the front door instead of the
wing window. What the dickens.
Pm neither a iailor nor an ogre! Il
my niece wants to marry a man ald