St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1895-12-13

story, told in the laconic New Eng
land way, but the brown knotty
hands worked unsteadily on the
reins, and the squirrels eyes had far
away look, as though toward the
country which held his Mary.
Presently they drove up to COM
Portable house, with an air OF plenty
about the large barn and wide porch,
over which grew white lilac. Molly
found her mistress a little woman
with faded, gentle eyes, and soft,
slow voice. She looked at the girl
kindly, and held out her hand. After
giving her few directions, and tell
ing her where to find things, she
added to her husband, "Tell John to
carry her trunk to the east chamber"
This apparently was something un-
usual, for the squire opened his
mouth as though to say something,
but being a man Of few words, shut
it again, and went out.
Molly, following her trunk, found
herself in a small room, with bright
rag carpet on the floor, white cur
tains looped away at the window,
homemade linen towels with knotted
fringe on the little table, an old
fashioned chest of drawers, and a
low four-posted bed with valance
and patchwork counterpart. The
room was neat but had an unused
look, and Molly wondered ifthe tribe
of girls OF which the squire had made
mention had marched through it;
but too tired to think long, she I'M
packed her small wardrobe, said her
prayers, and knew nothing more till
morning, when trilling of birds and
a ray of sunshine on her face woke
her to her first day of service as a
domestic" While making her sim
pie toilet she gave many quick glances
at the pillows otspple blossoms under
her window, and something born Of
the light and fragrance and music
was reflected in her face as she took
her way to the kitchen. The wood
and kindlings were near at hand, the
fire started off brisk with a cheerful
air of encouragement, and then
Molly considered her bill of fare.
There was salt mackerel, eggs, stale
bread, the inevitable salt pork,
doughnuts and pie, and pan of
cream whose yellow wrinkled sur
face bore testimony to the squirrels
Jersey.
THAT mackerel won't be fried, {"
said Molly, for the course of frying
at Widow Jackman's had been severe.
The fingers that had measured lace
and ribbon so deity made short
work of getting breakfast, and the
squire, coming in from his strawber-
ny bed with a pan full of Wilson's"
found it about ready.
But somehow his table had an I'M
familiar look. The cloth was on
straight, the knives and forks were
laid with mathematical precision, an
unwonted air OF trimness pervaded
his familiar crockery, and-there was
no pie on the table. But there was
mackerel baked in cream, and mashed
potatoes, and nicely Drowned toast
and the doughnuts.
Miss Harlow don't feel able to
come out to the table this morning,
and guess I'll take her bite before
| eat"
And so saying the squire took a
plate, and commenced piling things
on it in a promiscuous way.
oh" said Molly, "let me do it. |
have had a long experience with sick
people. They must be tempted, you
know"
She looked up at him with her
bright smile, and the squire gave in at
once, and watched with wonder
while tray was brought, a clean
napkin spread over it, piece OF
mackerel laid on a plate, with the
cream ladled daintily over it molly
had seen too much of the plates
where the meat seemed to have been
launched on them by an avalanche OF
gravy; then came little plate OF
the tomato, a slice of brown toast, a
little plate of butter, cup OF coffee,
knife, fork, spoon, etc. Then she
whisked into the pantry and out
again with a saucer of Strawberries,
and added them to the contents OF
the tray.
wait minute" she said, as the
squire lifted his burden, and in a
twinklng she was out of the door,
and back again with spray OF
white lilac, which, in tall glass, Was
given the place of honor in the mid
die of the tray.
"Sho!" said the squire, with his
slow smile, "thatll just suit my wife.
She's famous Tor having things 6xy."
Mrs. Harlow had missed the
accustomed smell of frying, and won
dered in a feeble way if Molly
couldn't find the pork.
why, Bethuel," she said, as her
husband set the tray down beside
her, "how pretty l really believe l
am hungry"
And the squire went back to his
own breakfast so happy that he
entirely forgot the absence of the pie.
Well, this was the beginning, and
though life afterward was not all
cream and Strawberries and white
lilacs, and though bread would some
times burn, and pastry fatty refuse