Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1895-10-23


returned some borrowed axle-grease
and shaking with laughter.
The end of the day, which had beer
hazy and warm, was sharp, and the
wrappings on the house-plsnts, as YET
unhoused, showed that the nights
were frosty, as did the burning red OF
the oak-sprouts along the road fences.
The two naples in the door-yard had
dropped their leaves in a broad yel-
low rug, which merged gently into the
yellowish-green autumn grass.
"What's the matter now, pa?" said
the girl; and she sat down beside him
and laughed too, in a sympathizing,
anticipatory way, with her under lip
drawn back.
Her father wiped the tears from his
ewes with the back of his hand, but
could not get speech. The paper was
al old scrap of an illustrated comic
weekly.
'Look a that picture, he struggled
forth. ''There's a man, he's got his
things to paint pictures-easel and
things and he's going through that
lot and looking all around at the cows
they're standing still, and the trees
and ali; he's took of his hat and hold
ing it out, and he's saying something
Il hain't my glasses-saying some
thing about nature in repose, some
thing tiowery. Wal, here in the next
picture one of the creeters has run for
him, and he's run and jumped over
the fence, and there that feller sets.
His box of paint and his hat and one
of his shoes, they're strung along on
the other side-dropped 'em as he run
and there he sets, all daubed up
with paint, and his collars all twisted
around and one leg of his easels stuck
right through his coat, and his camp
stools got right on top of his head
and the legs hanging down round his
ears. And the COW stands there snort
ing and paving, head down and tail
a-swishing; and it says, The repose
upset'-that's all it says, jest, The re-
pose upset.
Mr.. Wilson turned his Redeemed,
tear-wet face to his daughter If the
boisterous extravaganza of the sketch
appealed to him it did not lessen his
delight; he sat shaking his head and
laughing with slow, abysmal sounds.
The girls quick and breathless laugh,
characterized always by her drawn-in
under lip, mingled with his. Her face,
with its wide mouth, shrewd eyes, and
tipped nose, marked her inheritance
of her fathers humorous susceptibility
and proneness to laughter, with the
feminine difference that she had not a
humorous tongue. Joel Wilson was
known for settled wag. He chuckled
on as they went to the house. Ellen,
in her kitchen garb, had her hair
carefully done up, and her father
noted it.
"What's going on now?' he queried.
''Stell Blakely's party's tonight, "
she rejoined.
cover on the riverP How you GO
ing? That great long spindle-shanks
going to take you?" Her fathers eyes
twinkled.
She nodded, with her good-nature ed
laugh, but her face grew SO hot that it
tingled. She could not bear the men.
tion of Austin Brewster coolly.
Her mother had a guest at supper
Miss Nash, dark little spinster who
had taught in surrounding school-dis-
tricts for twenty odd years, and by
reason of her single state was an habit
uated table-visitor through a large
region. She sat slipping her tea with
critical deliberation, the effect of her
extensive experience of tea-tables. But
she aimed to be agreeable. She had
brought news of a surprising marriage
in the next town, that of widow of
forty to her hired man twenty years
younger, and she was full of the sub
ject, talking with sputter1ng vehe-
mence in rigorous arraignment of the
act.
'I come across this here Jest now
Mr.. Wilson had begun twice, with the
comic drawing in his hand and his
mind eagerly running on it, but had
got no further; the talk of the women
drowned him out. He sat in his tipped
back chair. when supper WAS over, and
listened, with some idea slowly form
ing itself; the corners of his mouth
twitched. Miss Nash sat primly by
the kitchen stove, while Mrs. Wilson
and Ellen cleared the table, talking on
the same theme. Her small, dark eyes
shone and darted with her condemna-
tory excitement; she tapped the floor
and shut her lips tight between SEN
tences Mr.. Wilson brought his chair
legs down and hitched them, with a
slow, inaudible chuckle. His charac-
terictic mildness was lost in his enjoy
ment of the idea revolving itself. He
looked at the little, old school-teacher.
"Wal, now, you hadn't ought to
pass Judgment, Miss Nash," he said.
"Now, you take your own case; just
about how young would a man have to
be, anyhow, SO as t you wouldn't have
him?"
Miss Nash stared at him for an in
comprehending minute. But Ellen
gave faint, shrill litter in her sitting
hand. Lacking that, the visitor might
perhaps have taken the pleasantly in
good part, but the dull color rose in
her nubby cheeks and spread warmly
to her hair. She gave an embarrassed,
resenting laugh, and in a moment
more got up and stepped to the sit
tine-room, where she had left her hat
and shawl Mr. Wilson did not see
aer; he sat wheeling in his chair,
with closed eyes, from which the tears
ran down.
His wife followed her. She was a
large woman, with a calm and serious
face. She said nothing as she helped
her visitor in her preparations, but
she followed her out at the door and,
with her skirt drawn over her shoul-