News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1894-10-11

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over, he beat a hastv retreat, feeling
rather Hurried and nervous over his
unusual performance, while Nj iss
Brown stood with clasped hands,
gazing at the surprising present, with
raptures Of delight.
And something did happen" she
breathed, tcstatically. II just felt as
if it would, though | never dreamed
of anything like this"
"And now know what I'm going
to do to show my appreciation. I'll
make the loveliest pie | know how,
and send it over ! don't believe
that poor man ever gets taste of
pie-any that's fit to eat. Mrs. lib
bins says she and May Annie never
have any luck with their pies, so they
don't often make 'em. And men
folks are mostly so fond of pie, too"
Miss Brown was one of those wo-
men who have a natural faculty and
love for cooking, and if she excelled
in any one branch it was that of pas
try. And the pie which she construct
ed out of a portion of those apples,
and sent over to Mrs. Tibbins, was
masterpiece, and as nearly perfect
as any pie could be. 1t was large
and deep, and ample the crust gol-
denly brown, melting and luscious.
The interior was clear, amber, sweet,
juicy, and fragrant with the most
delicate of spices. A neatly crimped
border and a spray of fern leaves cut
into the paste, gave an artistic finish
to the dainty structure.
When Peter Perriman's eyes beheld
Miss Browns offering, when he tested
it's undeniable excellence, dispatched
generous wedge of it and yearned
for more, a sentiment of gratitude to
the donor sprang up in his breast.
The trite old saying that the way to
mans heart is through his stOm-
ach, proved true III Peters case at
least. and in the ardor of his feelings
he offered to accompany his sister
and niece for an evening call on Miss
Barbara, and even plucked up the
courage to carry her another dOna-
ton of the choicest apples of his two
acre OTtlldTu pIOuuCeu.
Miss Barbara, attired in a neat Ii
lac satteen gown, and a large white
apron with red bow on the pocket,
received her visitors with smiling cor
daily, accepted the proffered fruit
with a blush of delight, and served to
her guests, later, on platter of
plump, brown crullers, crisp and SUI
gary, together with some tiny seed
cookies, dainty enough for a bird.
Mr.. Perriman's greatest weakness in
the pastry line next to pie, was for
crullers, and Miss Barbara was GER
tainly an adept in the art of making
them.
"Tip-top-est crulls ever | did eat"
meditated the bachelor Barbara
Brown is a good cook !! III bet a
nickel she can cook meat an vegeta-
bles as good as she can pie an crulls.
M then she's sensible" continued
Peter. 81 hear her tellin' Tidy
she'd ruther hev amealo' plain roast
meat an potaters, with a good pie
of some kind, or a batter pudding
with dip sauce, than all the rag-goos
an Frenchified messes that ever was
put together. She's good tempered,
too. A body can see that with half
an eye, an not bad loOkin' particu-
lar about the mouth and eyes. Some
way | like these blue-eyed, yellow
haired wimmin. There's some vim
about 'em. Seems to me she'd make
or iY,5 60 foil h.
amt too young-me for instance. |
never thought much about it before,
but seems like a man hadn't ought
to be a mizzable old bachelor all his
days, particlar when there's nice
single lady handy that's sensible an
knows how to cook. Not as | want
to mary a woman Jest cause she can
cook, but a good meal O. vittles goes
a long way towards keeping a man
contented an cheerful.
If she'll hey me-thOugh like enough
she won't-I've a notion to resk it.
That last batch of griddle cakes of
Tilda's lays heavy on my stomach
yet. Another dose of EMIL give me
the dyspepsy, sure as shooting. The
only way out of it is fur me to marry
SO there amt no use in shilly-shally-
ing. Might as well pitch in, first as
last, so here goes %
With this air of determination, Mr..
Perriman deposited his hoe by the
side of the fence, mopped his brow,
and started toward Miss Browns
white-painted cottage, with resolute
strides. The door stood wide open,
and through the screen Mr.. Perriman
could see Miss Barbara fitting brisk
ly about in her tiny kitchen, and hear
her singing in a clear voice, the old
time melody -
"When shall hear the bees a-hummin'
All round the comb
When shall hear the banjo tummin
Down in my good ole homer
She broke off suddenly at the sound
Of rap on the door, and came for
ward with a pleased smile on her lips
and in her eyes.
go, Mr.. Perriman, I'll have to ask
you in here, or my shortcake will
burn" she apologized hastily, bring
ing forward a splint- bottomed chair,
and placing it near the window, which
was hung with morning glory vines,
their purple cups still showing among
the thick, green leaves. "T'm doing
my Saturday baking, you see," ex-