The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1896-08-19
SELECTED STORY.
Meadow Farm.

quick step.
The sky was all Jonquil glow; the
frogs were croaking in the swamp; the
naples were crimsoned with their earli-
est banners of blossoms; and, as she
tripped along, Mary found tuft of vio-
let's, half hidden under drift of dead
leaves-pale-purple, scentless blossoms.
"The first violets always bring good
luck with them," she whispered to her
self, as she pinned them into the bosom
of her blue flannel gown.
Home was scarcely the ideal realiza-
tion of that poetic word to our factory
girl. She and her mother lived in the
upper half of a shabby, implanted
wooden house, with the blacksmith's
scolding wife and seven riotous children
down stairs, and one-half of trampled-
down back yard by way of garden,
where nothing ever grew but burdocks,
nettles, and Mrs. Mugs long-legged
fowls. But Mrs. Miller, who had been
a school teacher once, and still retained
something of the refinement of her
early education, had the tea ready, with
a shaded lamp and a bunch of maple
blossoms on the table, ready for Mary
to come home.
"Good news, mother" the girl cried,
lightly. 1.-THE Meadow Farm is to let
Mother, we must take it,"
Mrs. Miller looked obviously at the
bright, eager face, with its blue-gray
eyes and fringes of yellow hair.
"Can we afford it, daughter ?" she
said slowly. CA whole house and a
farm of forty-three acres?"
1T isn't such very large house,
mother" pleaded Mary, as she laid the
bunch of violets in her mothers lap
"not so many more rooms than we
have here. And we could keep two
cows, and / could sell milk and butter
and spring chickens and eggs, and l
am almost sure that Will Davidge
would work the farm on shares. And
only think, mother, how delightful it
would be to have home all to our
selves where we couldn't hear Mrs.
Mugs boxing Bobby's ears, nor Helen
shrieking with the toothache! And
little garden, mother, where we could
have peonies and hollyhocks, and all
those lovely, old-fashioned flowers that
your soul delights imp
Mrs. Miller's pale face softened.
1t would be great temptation,
Molly" she said.
cit is month now since old Mrs.
Dabney died." said Mary. "And they
say that her daughter in the city and
her son out in California despise the
old farm with its one-story house and
its old red barn. So it is to let. And
so cheap, too! Mother, we must take
it! I'll leave the factory and turn
dairy-maid. I've saved enough, you
know, to buy the two COWS and some
real Plymouth Rock fowls, to begin
with. Say yes, mother-do say yesp'
When Mary Miller pleaded like this
the gentle widow never knew how to
refuse, and the upshot of it was that
they leased the old Dabney house, and
became co-sovereigns of the realm of
Meadow Farm.
head the young May moon shone
through veil of purple mist. A soil
tary owl hooted in the chestnut wood
back of the house, for Meadow Farm
was situated on lonely mountain
side where no one ever came except on
special business. The Plymouth Rock
chickens were safely shut up where
foxes could not reach them, nor minks
steal in to bleed their young lives
away; the two cows-two fine young
Alderneys-were chewing their cuds
back of the old red barn, and Mary
Miller had flung handful of cedar
sticks on the hearth, where the
scented blaze illuminated the old
kitchen with leaping brightness beau
tiful to see.
"Because IT'S just possible that the
house may be damp" she said, "after
being uninhabited so long. There,
mother, isnt't that cheerful? and
isn't it nice that our old rag carpet
should fit this floor so exactly?"
with satisfactory downward glance;
land do you see those tiger liliesP
found them down by the garden wall
oh, such red wilderness of theml
Old Mrs. Dabney set them out herself,
they say. 1t seems only yesterday"
she added, thoughtfully, "that / came
past here and saw old Mrs. Dabney
sitting in the big chair by the fire, just
where"
Mrs. Miller uttered little shrek
and grasped her daughters arm at this
moment. Mary stopped short, with a
pallor overspreading her cheeks. For
as she spoke the door opposite had
opened, and very little old woman,
silver-haired and shriveled like q
mummy, came in, and walking across
the floor, seated herself in Mrs. Dab
ney's very corner. An old woman
dressed in the snuff-colored gown
which Mrs. Dabney had always worn
and wearing a snuff silk cap, while G
bag depended from her arm.
It's cold, ladies'" she said, looking
around with deprecating air. "Colt
for the season of the year, and they
don't keep fires at Tewkstown."
Mother" said Mary, recovering
herself with hysterical gasp of relief
" it isn't old Mrs. Dabney's ghost. III
old Miss Abby come back from the
Tewkstown poorhouse."
"You don't meap "-began the milo
widow.
That Mrs. Daniel Dabney and Mrs
Eyerard Elbertson let their old aunt g
to the poorhouse!" said Mary Miller
eyes, it is quite true. Mrs. DAME
leads society in San Francisco, an
told, and Mrs. Elbertson is q grand lad,