Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1893-07-28
AN OUTLINE IN UMBER.

an elel0ental nOllOn OF contents.
Joel Shattuc himself, middle-aged man
with square looking head, which fitted
into his body like a plug of pine, stood
lingering the metal clamps across the sacks
upper edge, his heavy face expressive of a
settled gloom.
''Ef this thing goes on" he said, glanc-
ing toward a group of men in the space
about the stove, 81 don't know but I'll
hev to give up my job" And as he spoke
his eyes returned to the mail sack.
81 wouldn't feelthat ways, Uncle Joel, 4"
moderately advised an elderly man hud-
died on a molasses barrel, his booted legs
crossed, his chin braced from contact with
a blue cotton shirt by lath-like section
of stiff gray beard.
"Oh, you wouldn'tW demurred Mr..
Shattuc, a suspiciously satiric quality in
his voice-'you wouldn't, hunk? Well,
the thing of it is, Jake, l don't gen'ally
regerlate myself on other mems notions.
l say agin, l turn right Uneasy in my stom-
ach ev'y last time this var sack gifts pitched
out of number ten-I do for fack. I'm
that plumb shore thar wont be mare thing
in it for the SWEETS folks that | hain't
skercely got the sand to open the bag.
feel like | want to leave it locked He
fetched the counter a smart rap with his
shut fist, and glowered upon the other
men, who at once assumed expressions in
dicating an intense interest in the stove-a
small red hot affair glimpsing on its devo-
tees through three triangular openings,
like very ugly idol with a trio of terrible
eyes.
"Well, for me-" presently advanced the
man on the barrel, 81 don't look to get no
mail today; but still, Uncle Joel, lock like
it's only fair to the town ez tibet sack ought
to be ondid. S | say, | feel right with
you'ns bout Sa Jane SWEET. D'law! I've
knowed tibet cyril sence she wasn't no heft-
lei than right stable terbaocer worm.
But yit don't reckon ez the worlds goin'
to quit jest cuz Sa' James sot her mind on
a man tibet never showed her no special
favor, no more'n bein' sort uh smiley an
sof' spoken, like he was to ev'y person."
He cleared his throat, and added: "'Tain't
right good Judgement to do us out'n the
mail 'cuz Sa' James beau-ef you want to
call him thet-hev went plumb back on
her."
Mr.. Shattuc's eyes, which were gray and
had shifting movement under his brows
as of two steel shuttles, observed the 9TH
er man with an ominous and unusual stead
mess. EFF any man lows to question my
Judgement" he began in tentative voice,
'he'll find hisself tacklin' the biggest con-
tract"
"D'law! yes" broke in the object of
this, with a deprecatory burst of mirth,
which, while it spread his lean cheeks in a
wide smile, left his eyes free to observe any
tendency of the postmaster's hand toward
hip pocket. "Thets so, Uncle Joel.
You do beat the Jews for Judgement! Yes,
Substituting to the rest of the men, who
were taking in the controversy with the
abstraction of countenance which indicates
a stern intention OF neutrality-'rve al
ways helt tibet Uncle Joel Shattuc kin
down any man in the district for common
hoss-sense an matched wit. l honor you,
Uncle Joel, for being slack about openin'
tibet var bag. got daughters my own self
an I'd hate to see arr one of 'em lookin'
like a lightnin' rod thoo pinin' to Git word
of some un r uther."
He drew up rather suddenly. The door
had opened with a warning click, and
woman stepped across the threshold, her
slender young figure revealed with an eff
feet of intense fragiity against the oak
crowned knob behind her. A dwindling
strand of yellowish hair strayed across one
pale cheek, and some loose short locks Law
on her brows above the sad intentness of
wide, soft eyes trimming with the pathetic
violet of autumn distances. A gaudy
plaid shawl canopied her head, and as she
drew near the counter and saw the mail
sack lying unopened upon it, her hands
gave a nervous tlutter, and the shawl fell
over her shoulders.
'Mail not handed out yet?" she said,
with piteous affectation of carelessness.
"I'm sort of early. | didn't keer much
about comm down today, but NAV she
he'd sort of feeln' tibet maybe her folks
down in Russell county might have sent
word"
She leaned against the counter with an
air of WEAKNESS, her slenderness, her
heavy yellow hair, and tiny, sharply mark
ed freckles giving her the look of cow
slip bending little on its long stem.
eyes, yes" said Mr.. Shattuc, diving for
key attached below the counter by
means of a long chain; "Tm late today.
Look like these fellers git in hyar and talk
till l am bout run DISTRACTED. Set down,
Sa' Jane. I'll run thoo the sack in half a
minute now. You Mart Type, give Miss
SWEET that var chair.
At this Mart Type, lazy-oOking young
man, with low brows matched in black
hair, and a bronze throat grt in a scarlet
handkerchief tilted himself forward.
"Will you set, Miss Swett?' he question
ed, without insistcnce.
The girl shook her head. 81 ruther
stand up she murmured, hungriiy cycling
the postmaster as he shuflled several news
papers in Manila wrappers. There were
only two letters. These Mr.. Shattuc
avoided as if their whiteness suggested
leprOsy to his mind. He had a definite
idea that neither of them was for Sarah
Jane SWEET, and he felt himself a poltroOn
and coward when he thought of turning up
the enclosures.
"Jest wait minute" he muttered; "be
back dreckly."
He took couple of strides, and disap-
peared through a door at his left. When
he came back his face wore look of def
ant assurance, and some ambersh drops
hung in his beard.
"'Mr. RUDE Hughes" he announced in
a voice of challenge, picking up the first
letter. "Hyar var, RUDE. Reckon it's
from tibet cyril o. yourn down in Liberty"
Then he took up the second envelope, and
his hand yisibly shook. "This-un's from
your kin in Bracken, Mart, he said, and |
cast the letter into the black-browed |
youths hands.
The girl facing him did not move. One
slight wrist lay along the dark wood, and |
her brown fingers clutched at the sharp |
edge as if it were plank to which she |