The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1894-04-25

watched her absently.
Suddenly Sarah spoke. 'Don't
you want me to make you q few days
visit?" she asked.
Mcg's eyes shone, as she answered
eagerly: Don't II Will you reallyP
viii your"
Sarah mimicked her earnest voice.
"Will |? Well" with laugh, "after
inviting myself, think l will.
week later, the deacon, Sarah
and Meg were again seated at the
table. Meg had removed the first
course, and had brought on steamed
blucbcrry pudding with a sauce.
The sight OF it moved the deacon to
an almost jocose recital OF n blue
berrying adventure OF his boyhood.
He kept sharp eye upon his niece's
movements, however. Don't be
scared of gittin' on too much sauce"
he admonished. Pudding without
sauce is like life without religion. Put
it on plentiful, put IL on plentiful,
niece Margaret. You can't have too
much Of either in this life" falling,
almost unconsciously, into his won
ted serious phraseology, pudding
His manner was grave, his voice so
earnest that Sarah stifled the laugh
which rose to her lips. Here was n
good man, she said to herself, n
really good man; what mattered 1t IL
he made n strange mixture Of pudding
and religion?
1t was the dcacon's favorite pud-
ding. He had partaken very freely
of roast lamb and green peas and
mcaly new potatoes. So freely, in
deed, that Sarah, watching him, felt
II sudden fear lest the pudding would
go a-begging. But the deacon's ca
pacity proved equal to his desire.
a second and n third helping were
given him, and he ate with increasing
satisfaction.
An amiable and benevolent smile
spread itself over his face, and he
pushed back his chair and rested his
head against the wall. He was fast
eater, and Meg and Sarah had not
yet finished their dessert. He looked
airectionately y and with an air of pride
ut his niece.
That is as good pudding as |
ever tasted, Margaret" he said,
presently, '1'll eat bit for my
supper"
II am glad you like 1t, uncle"
ct is so good" said Sarah, "that
/ could eat another helping, II l had
not this dreadful, lurking fear OF all
canned fruit"
Canned fruit" said the deacon,
you won't get much canned fruit on
my table, Miss Sarah. We string
our own apples and raise our own
fruit for preserving and there's always
green things plenty in tho garden.
/ don't hold to buying things you can
raise on your own SOIL"
But when blueberries will not be
ripe for month, and lamb isn't good
without green peas, and your garden
peas are too old to cook, why, then,
Deacon Albany, canned goods must
be used"
Well, yes, suppose they must,
but l didn't know those were canned
peas.
Canned peas and canned blue
berries" said Sarah, "are both so
convenient that it Is pity people are
always getting poisoned by eating
them"
The deacon shifted his position,
with an uneasy motion OF the head.
He remembered how freely he had
eaten. He began to question the
wisdom Of yielding to the natural
appetite. He foresaw a wretched af-
ternOon,
Now, ] don't mind, you know"
continued Sarah, placidly toying with
II spoon. II shall never eat very
freely OF canned fruits, since there is
always the risk, but am not nervous
about them, as mamma and papa
nrc. Papa won't touch them, you
know"
The deacon rose up hastily and left
the room. a vision OF n long illness
rose sharply before him. He groaned
aloud when he reached the wood
yard. "She said her father-and he
"A doctor-wouldn't touch them, And
II ate like a starving beggar."
He came in from the fields an hour
earlier than usual that afternoon.
He said the sun was very hot and
the men could finish without him,
yet he drew his large cane-seated
i'NhihB-NiiulT Dtstut tne Stove, and
sat down i'm it..
Are you cold, uncle2" asked Meg
81 guess / amt feeling Just right
In ny stomach, Marg' ret" "
Meg was all attention instantly.
Shall ! make you bowl OF ginger
tear The water is boiling"
The deacon assented eagerly. He
watched its preparation and drank IL
with avidity, though IL was so hot It
brought tears to his eyes.
You have taken a chill" said
Meg. You must go 10 bed as soon
as supper is over"
To this the deacon submitted with
out murmur. Perhaps he had taken
cold, there had been n stiffish breeze.
he remembered. He drew the blank
cts more closely about him, and felt
certain consolation in a distinct
shiver; there he had worked without
his vest, despite the east wind, he
acknowledged gratefully. IL was a
chill, he would be we'll tomorrow.
About seven o clock his niece came
to his bedside. II don't believe you'll
need anything more before eleven