The news boy., 1894-04-07

Certainly Miss Margaret Parker'e
scholars were not, and she KNEW it.
She was aware of what was in store
for her, and had made up her mind
what to do before she entered the
school doors on the 1st of April, 1891.
The boys were assembled In full
force. The girls also, but Miss Parker
knew very well that the girls were in.
nocent of pictures drawn by them.
selves The pile of thin, coarse envei-
opes upon her desk were none of them
addressed by the girls. She smiled
upon them approvingly and took her
seat.
The boys looked at her with restless,
| conscious eyes, as she lifted the eneel,
opes one by one. Through each she
saw the blotches of crayon and gaudy
color which revealed its contents. THE
postman had left then, on the desk, for
each bore its proper stamp properly
cancelled, but the crooked handwriting
| OF the addresses was familiar enough
to her.
"Those impertipen. boys" she said
to herself as she gathered the letters
and called to meek little girl in the
frst row.
bessie Guy, put this rubbish in the
stove"
| The child obeyed. The disappointed
| boys grew solemn. Miss Parker looked
happier.
'There's another, Miss Parker" said
the mild little girl, pointing to mis-
Give which had fallen behind the big
dictionary. Margaret put out her hand
and took it up. 1t was a letter in =
neat, cream-tinted envelope, directed
in q beautiful hand.
NC, this is something else" she said,
and opened it. The first words that
met her eye were these: April 1st,"
and crushing it in her hnnd, she said, a
little sharply, "Talsc 1t with the rest.
Bessie" It stung her to see hand
older than schoolboY's in this letter,
though she was not an ill-tempered
person.
1t was Rev. Martin Tillinghast's let
ter that went, unread, into the stove;
and he waited in vain for an answer
for many weeks; but it was curious
that just about that time Margaret Par
ker found herself thinking good deal
about a time, fifteen years ago, when she
was seventeen and young Martin Til
linghast seemed to be SO fond of her.
She did what she had not done for Ion e
while; she took down from high shelf
a little box, with two letters, a lock of
hair, and pretty pink and blue valen-
tine in lace paper envelope in it, and
she thought over all he had said, 4 ad
remembered what people told her of
the influences brought to bear on him
when he married Jerusha Crocker.
II think he was fond of me-" she
sighed, land I'm afraid was too fond
of him to forget him; but he must have
been weaker than knew. l am sure
he never was happy, and how lonely he
must be now that he has not even her.
l wonder" Here she dropped talking
to herself, and tied up the letters and
put the box away, never guessing what
she had consigned to the flames Of the
school stove.
Meanwhile Rev. Martin Tillinghast
decided that Margaret scorncd to
answer him, and gave q verdict against
himself of: ut served me right"
When his advisers spoke again of mat
rimony he agreed with them in a gen.
eral way that it would be we'll to make
q choice. He was still hoping for an
answer-hoping against hope; but he
was weak, for when they alluded to
the Widow Mapleson as fine woman
and perfect wife for minister, he
agreed with them, and by degrees, ad-
vised, pushed. beckoned by all his we'll
wishers, placed himself in the position
of a probable suitor for the hand of
that worthy dame, whose waist was
full thirty inches about, and who was
five years his senior, and the last woman
he would have chosen.
The year passed slowly. Its May
day, its Battle. .of.Bunker-Hill day, its
summer vacation, its harvest home
all enlivened the congregation, and
should have cheered the pastor, but he
was low-spirited. 1t was expected of
him to take wife, and he dreaded
good Mrs. Mapleson, whose wheezy
laugh annoyed hlm, and who was not
always grammatical. However, he
felt that he had gone too far to draw
back, and he had resolved to propose.
The widow might refuse him, after all
He could only hope for that, and then,
feeling that he could not stay at home
and think, he took his pocket Bible
and went down into the village to visit
the lame cobbler, Jack Simms, and his
old wife, ard read q chapter to them.
He found the cottage draughty, as it
was warm as need be, and the old folks
sitting before fire which roared in a
rather large stove.
| "You see us comfortable. Mr.. Till.
inghast," said Simms, gleefully.
"We've had a present Miss Parker,
the schoolma'am. has been a-working
for us, bless her. She went and got
the school-board to give us the old
stove that was took down, because 1t
A AI) \