The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1896-09-09
SELECTED STORY.
The Unknown Cousin.
&c Get out, you old scampln

green masses of peppermint, and Mr.
Carey, who had walked a long dis.
lance and had just fallen into a doze
under the refreshing shadows of a
gnarled old apple-tree, started gal.
vanically up at this ungentle adj
dress.
Ma'am," he said, "I assure you ]
am not trespassing; L"
But his apologize words were cut
short by the rafting of stout stick
on the stone wall close by him, and in
another moment a belligerent-looking
red cow came plunging through the
high grass, directly toward his haven Of
refuge.
He started to run, but his foot catch
ing in the gnarled root of an ancient
tree, he fell headlong. The COW exc
cuted hurdle leap over his PROSTATE
form and vanished in clump of hazel
bushes, and a resolute, bright-eyed
woman came to the rescue, with flap
ping sunbonnet tied over her ears,
and the stick balanced across her
shoulder.
"Don't strike" pleaded Mr.. Carey.
{" Pm getting off the premises as fast
as l can. 1 assure you, 1 didn't know
was trespassing."
Desire Welland blushed very prettily
as she pushed back the sunbonnet and
endeavored to adjust her luxuriant red
brown hair, which had broken loose
from the pins.
ooh, I'm 80 sorryl' said she. sit
wasn't you l meant at all, sir; it was
the COW who had got into the cabbage
patch. Did 1 hit you with the stick?
But 1 never dreamed of any one but
Bossy being there. Oh, do let me run
home and get the camphor bottlel"
Slowly Mr.. Carey raised himself to a
sitting and then to standing posture;
slowly he felt his knees, elbows and
collar bones.
"I'm not hurt" said he--"not to sig
nifty, that is. 1t wasn't your stick,
ma'am; it was the roots of this tree.
It's enough to startle any man, don't
you see-to hear himself called an old
scampT
"But it wasn't you meant" breath
lessly cried Desire. eft was the COW.
Won't you let me run up to the house
and get capcine plaster? Oh, dol"
Desire was fair to look upon, in spite
of her forty summers, with big black
eyes, a laughing cherry-red mouth, and
cheeks just brown with the healthful
hue of mountain breezes. Mr.. Carey
felt himself gradually soften as he
looked at her.
"No," said he. II don't care for a
capcine plaster. But I've walked
good way, and I should like bowl of
coffee if it's handy"
Come up to the house then," said
Desire. Its only step across the
orchard. Oh, that COW, that COW! We
must certainly have her hampered after
this!''
Perhaps," said Mr.. Carey solemnly,
as he endeavored to straighten the
edges of his hat, "you know a family
by the name of Welland who live here
abouts. Two old maids, who manage
a farm all by themselves. Very Pc
culiar females, am told"
Desire stood still and began to laugh,
while deep crimson suffused her cheeks.
Why" cried she, " it's usl It's me
and Malvina. We are the Welland
girls"
1t was Mr.. Carey's turn to flush and
look awkward now.
"Oh," said he. "Well, it don't
matter. I've business at the Welland
farm-that's ALL"
Isn't it strange that things should
happen SOP" cried Desire, opening the
gate into the dim, shadowy orchard,
where scarlet lilies grew in the tall
grass and robins darted in and out of
the dropping boughs. There's the
house. You can see it now. Malvina
and have managed the farm ever
since father died. Philo-that's our
brother--has a house and an estate of
his own, and his wife don't want any
single relations, but we've done very
well, every one says. Here's the place.
And here's Malvinap
Miss Malvina Welland was diligently
hoeing sweet corn in mans hat and
boots. She was tall, Amazonian
sort of female, with high cheek bones,
hair cut short and masculine way of
leaning on her hoe. She looked
sharply around at the sound of foot
steps.
els it the new hired MANI" said she.
"Then, Desire, you may tell him that
we don't want help that comes this time
of day. IN have no eight-hour men on
my place"
sob, Malvina, hush," cried the
younger sister, in despair. "It's a
gentlemen on business"
In came Brother Philo from the
back yard with an auger in his hand.
"Eh?" said Brother Philo, a
wrinkled, hard-featured man in blne
overalls and boots that looked as if
they might be carved out of lignum
vitae. "BusinessP 1t amt sewing
machine, ! s'pose? or a patent reaper,
nor any of these labor-saving hum
bugs?"
:" It's about your Cousin Rolf" said
Mr.. Carey - Paul Welland's son.
He's come back from Australia. He
requested me to come over here, as |
happened to be passing this way, and
see what his relations would do about
giving him a home"
AT these words Mrs. Philo Weland
emerged from the currant bushes,
where she was picking the sparkling,
ruby-colored fruit to make Jelly. For
Mrs. Philo believed in always pick
ing her neighbours fruit before she be-
kn.