Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1894-07-09

sat down on a bench under the
multiplying honeysuckle to review
the field of battle, whence I had so ig-
ANONYMOUSLY fed.
AS figuratively CRASHED my teeth
and rolled in sackcloth and ashes, the
sweet sound of gay young voices
f1oated among the honeysuckle5 from
the open window above. Kate and
her mischievous cousin, Effie Miller,
were comparing notes.
''Kate!" calculated Effie, and
knew by the sound she had got Kate
round the waist and was kissing her,
els that the awkward monster that
your father prefers to Harry"
I began to believe in the truth OF
the old proverb that listeners never
hear any good of themselves"
''I don't care!" pouted Kate, I
never, never will marry him!'
"And he's coming to propose to-
morrow evening?'
eyes," sighed Kate, "and what
shall I do?''
| L
"Of course it won't do to be uncivil.'
Here the voice of old Aunt Betsey,
Mr. Willis maiden aunt and house
keeper, was heard, and the laughing
echoes died away in the distance ,leav-
ing me nearly paralyzed with wrath
and dismay.
There's no use describing the hours
of preparation there were devoted to
"getting myself up" splendidly.
"Now for it,,' said to myself, Civ
ing my sinking courage tremendous
upward screw, as I stood on Willis
doorsteps, in the soft purple glow Of
summer twilight.
"All right, my boy!" said old Willis,
| to the door. "You'n find her waiting
for you; she's been asleep for an hour
or two, and I wouldn't disturb her.
In such cases as this it's better to be
taken little by surprise. Speak up
like man, now!"
ously. My heart descended into the
soles of my boots as I shuffled slowly
away. If I had been worth half
million I would have given it at that
moment to buy an hours reprieve.
But old Willis was inexorable. He
noiselessly opened the door and mo-
toned me to enter. I obeyed and sat
down close to the threshold.
"Not there, go and sit by her on the
sofa! never saw anything like your
style of love- making!" ejuaculated
old Willis under his breath, as he gave
me an impetus toward that corner of
the room where a halfrec lining figure
sat, wrapped in mass of snowy lace.
No backing out now. I was fairly
in for it, and sank on one knee be-
fore the figure, beginning to recite
the rhapsody I had committed to
memory that morning.
At first my audience paid very little
attention, but as proceeded, grow
ing gradually more emphatic, the re-
cumbent figure slowly reared itself
up. Just as possessed myself of the
hand, exclaiming, "Speak, dear one
tell me may hope!" pungent odor
struck upon my senses, a box of
Scotch snuff came rattling down upon
my head, and shrill voice exclaimed:
''Hey! what on earth do you mean,
talking your nonsense to me?"
had been counting Aunt Betsey!
Up rose the indignant old lady, de-
handing explanation, more like one of
the wrinkled witches in Macbeth than
a modern spinster. Explanation, in
deed! pretty time to explain when
man was sneezing his very soul out
in a peppery whirlwind of Scotch
snuff! Effie Miller's half stifed voice
was heard exclaiming in the ante
room:
ssUncle Willis, you'll have to inter-
fere-Mr. Simpkins is making love to
Aunt Betsey!"
I stayed to hear no more, but beat a
retreat.
went home in rather dangerous
state of mind, with a strong inclina-
ton to knock my head against all the
stone walls and jump into all the run
ming streams.
The next day I met Effie Miller on
the village street. had no particu-
lar desire to stop and exchange civil |
tiles, but she put out her little hand
before could slip past, SO came to
an unwilling halt.
s'This is a decidedly romantic affair,
Mr.. Simpkins," she said.
No appropriate remark suggested
itself to me. So remained silent, and !
she went on.