Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1894-06-15
SPOILED BY THE BXPOsH'N,'

Nancy Andrews died and when, in lit
tie over year, Thomas married again he
found it wholly convenient to send his two
motheress children to their grandparents,
who would legally adopt them, bring
them up and give them the farm if they
turned out we'll" The turning out well'
meant that the children should walk and
worship as they had done, omit their
youth, find their every want in the dingy
old farmhouse, the weekly meetings and
the monthly gatherings OF the Good lem
plars.
And so from the busting western town
of NJ - the children were hurried OF to
their farm-home in northern New Hamp-
shire.
A sturdy little pair they were; Charlie
with cheeks as red as the scarlet comforter
which was twisted around his neck, and
Rachel whose fat little legs seemed always
about to burst through her knitted Grim
son stockings.
They fretted at first and sometimes cried
to 60 into the village and play with other
children, but after a little learned better
and were shaken into place.
Rachel was taught to make bread when
to reach the table she must stand III
chair, and Charlie at the age of ten could
yoke and drive the cattle as well as his
grandfather
The years that came and went made the
children patient and strange; the boy grew
round-shouldered and lost his rosy cheeks
and eagerness, and Rachel shy and shrink
ing while the mother-want deepened in her
soft brown eyes.
1t was md-winter of the fifteenth year
since their coming and both the old people
lay sick with pneumonia; two weeks
Rachel had watched and tended them and
now the doctor said they could not recover.
1t seemed to her that night that Charlie
would neve. come, and when at last she
heard the oX-team of logs creep slowly
into the yard, flush replaced the palor of
her cheeks. and shamed, excited look
came into her eyes. "Tll ask him any
way, I've wanted to so long | just can't
keep it back any longer" she muttered,
and dozen times at the supper-table she
began with, "Charlie''-when she would
grow confused, then each would avoid the
others eye and nothing but the ticking of
the clock and silence would follow. Then
came the milking hour. perhaps | can
say it better in the barn, she thought, as
she picked up the pals and followed him
two, three, four of the COWS were MIXED
and now only old Brindle, 1.-THE hard one,
remained. "Charlie,n she began again
"Won't you take the off side and help
me?n he interrupted in an unsteady voice
then for several minutes nothing but the
"Trip, "Trip, "Trip of the milk against the
sides of the pals was heard; then, some
how little wet hand got inside a big
horny palm and pair of soft brown eyes
peeped around behind old Brindle only to
find another pair peering back at them.
"Charlie," this time in a whisper, 'it any
thing SbOuld happen tO-them do you sup
pose we could 90 back and see father jest
for a k?"-"Don't Rachie, don't" he
broke in, Eve mustn't speak of it; it
seems like wishing them dead But all
the time the two hands were tight clasped,
then both arose with their pals and as
they passed the lantern, swinging on its
wooden peg, the shadow of a little head
cuddled closely against a gaunt, STOPPING
shoulder, fitted across the cOrn-crib.
1t was twelve clock that night and all
the quiet of midnight stiffness had settled
upon the house, when Rachel stole forth
from her chamber. II should Jest like to
see if | could get EN- both in and make it
shut; it don't make no difference | don't
suppose but can't sleep till know she
whispered as she carefully descended the
stairs to the door of the 'best room The
door was a bit aiar and the room dimly
lighted by a candle; looking in she saw
Charlie bending over shiny old valse; in
it, neatly folded. was her dress and a pair
of gray trousers and he was vainly try
ing to close the bag, which finally yielded
and snapped together Il shan't ever eX-
actly want to use it | don't suppose, put
kinder wanted to know if they'd go in,
she heard him say; and then, her query
answered, she went softly up the stairs
to L., t.1, i, -, 1r
The old people recovered and life at the
farmhouse went on as before.
The weighted years settled heavily upon
the boy and girl and made of them a stOop-
ing midde-aged man and a gray-haired
woman, whose only claim to anything like
youth was Pickering light of hope in her
eyes which had not died. Discipline and
monotony, those two unsleeping, remorse-
less sculptors, had steadily chiselled away
upon their lives until curves of mind and
body wavered into thin straight lines.
Another fifteen years passed and the two
old people had been dead three years. The
brother and sister still yearned for their
old home but there were debts to be paid,
and until the farm was free they must
wait.
1t seemed as if the last fifty dollars never
could be saved, but at last the required
amount was safely buttoned beneath Char
lies coat and finally paid to the village
lawyer, And now every penny was greed
lily boarded to take them back, but money
came slowly and the long-thought-of trip
seemed far away indeed,
One night Charlie came home from the
village with the news that a Worlds Fair
was to be held in Chicago the next year
and that railroad tickets to that point
would be reduced to half price. sob
Charlie are you sure, quite sure?' she
asked him again and again. Three-quar-
tiers of the night they sat talking it over,
or else in silence, hard-thinking and hap
Ply.
The months in the little New Hampshire
farmhouse seemed to fly, for hope had set
tied there, and now at last they were fairly
started. What journey it was Oh the
rapidly flying fields, then village, :hen a
large town; and the wonder of it all to
find themselves one, and part of, the
great, rushing, living world. Close togeth-
er they sat with occasional answering looks,
but mostly in silence. Throughout the
nights they kept their seats, whispering
together, now that the darkness gave them
courage, but because they seemed so happy
their fellow travellers were patient and slept
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