Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1896-01-10
FOR HER SAKE.

kJf1lAIs
It wanted less than an hour to high
water when Miss Marty Lear heard her
brothers boat take ground on the
narrow beach below the garden, and set
the knives and glasses straight while
she listened for the click of the garden
latch.
A line of stunted hazels ran along the
foot of the garden and hid the landing
place from Miss Lear as she stood at the
kitchen window gazing down steep
alleys, Of scarlet runners. But above
the hazels she could look across to the
fruit-growing village of St. Kits, and
catch glimpse Mt high tide of the in
tervening river, or towards low water
of the mud banks shining in the sun.
(. It was Miss Lear's custom to look
much on this landscape from this win
dow; had, in fact, been her habit for
close upon 40 years. And this evening,
when the latch clicked ut length, and
her brother in his market-suit came
slouching up the path between the
parallels of garden-stuff, her eyes rested
all the while upon the line of gray wa
ter above and beyond his respectable
hat.
Nor, when he entered the kitchen,
hitched this hat upon a peg in the wall
where its brim accurately fitted o sort
of dull halo in the whitewash-did he
appear to want any welcome from her.
He was a long jawed man of 65, she
'long-iawed woman of 61; and they
understood each others ways, having
kept this small and desolate farm to-
gether for 30 years-that is, since their
fathers death.
A cold tunip pasty stood on the table,
with the cider jug that Job Lear
regularly emptied Mt supper. These
suggested no small-tall1, and the pair
sat down to eat in silence.
1t was only while holding out his
plate for second helping of the pasty
that Job spoke with a full mouth.
"Who dee reckon ran across to-day.
down in Troy?" Miss Marty cut the
slice without troubling to say that she
had not notion.
"Why, that fellow Amos Trudgeon, y
he went on.
"Yes?"
"'Pears to me you must be failin' if
You disremembers 'en; son of old Sal
Trudgeon, that used to keep the jumble-
shop cross the water; him that stole
our eggs back-along, when father was
,ivin'."
II remember"
II thought you must. Why, you gave
evidence, to be sure. Be dashed! now
come to mind, if you WASH the first to
wake the house an say you heard a man
hollerin' out down pom the mud"
''Iss, was"
can saved his life, though you did
get 'en two months in Bodmin Gaol by
it. Up to the armpits he was, an not
five minutes to live, when we hauled ZEN
out, an wonderin' what he could be
dom there, found he'd been stealing
our eggs. He inquired after YOU to-
day"
ibid he?"
"Iss. 'How's Marty? says he.
Agen' rapidly says I. The nerve
that some folks have! Comes up to me
as cool as my lord and holds out hand.
He've agrown into a sort of commercial;
stomach like a bow-window, with q
watchguard looped ncross. I'd mind
to say Eggs to zen, it SO enjoyed me-"
II hope you didn't"
mo. 'Twould have seemed like
bearin' malice. 'Tis an old tale, after
all, that feat of his"
Mine and thirty year, come 18th of
September next. Did he say any more?"
Said the weather-glass was risin',
but too fast to put faith in"
II mean, did he ask any more about
me3"
"Iss; wanted to know if you was
married. reckon he meant that for
a bit O. plcasntness."
"Not that! All, not that!'
Job laid down knife and fork with
their points resting on the rim of his
plate, and, with lump of pasty in one
cheek. looked at his sister. She had
pushed back her chair bit, and her
fingers were plucking the edge of the
tablecloth.
mot that" she repeated once more,
and hardly above q whisper. She did
not lift her eyes. Before Job could
speak
"He was my lover" she said, and
shivered.
Marty" .
She looked up now, hardened her
ugly. twitching face, forced her eyes to
meet her brothers, and went on, breath
lessly-
II swear to you, Job-here, across
the table-he was my lover, and I
ruined zen. He was the only man, 'cept
you and father. that ever kissed me. and
/ betrayed 'en. AS the Lord lveth, 1
stood up in the box and swore away his
name to save mine. An he made me-"
Marty Lear!"
"Don't hinder me, Job. It's Gods
truth I'm telin' zee. His folks were a
low lot, an father'd have broken every
bone o. me. But we used to meetin the
orchard most every night. Don't look
SO, brother. I'm past 60, an nothin'
known; an now evil an goods the same
to me-"
"Go on
swell, the last night he came over
twas spring tides, an past the flood.
was waitin' for 'en in the orchard, down