Daily Kennebec journal., 1896-01-24

dropping Its dead ashes on the dogs
back and the gravel path from the
other, While those rhythmic mellinuous
sounds that give pleasing assurance Of
good mans slumber played upon the
summer air.
Horace" cried the doctors wife.
Lazy fellow!" and the little dog
jumped up and barked. "Ay-hum"'
muttered the doctor thickly, as he
opened and closed his heavy eyes, mo
night bell-heaven!'
| Through the now open doors of gar
| den and street the town sounds foated
in; a boy whistling, the far-off roll Of
solitary carriage, murmur of voices,
the church clock striking in lordly
leisure nine mellow strokes on the
| tremulous waiting air, and thcn-a
long way off, sharp, quick click rous.
ing thin, sharp echo. The click grew
sharper, yet fuller, it broadened and
was a click no more, the echo ceased,
and the tailor's son recognized in the
fuller sorority of the strokes the hoof-
beats of a gaQoping horse on the hill;
they quickened down the steep descent,
grew louder and follower over the
bridge. and full and strong on the hard
street road with q confused ring Of
echoes from the houses. The people
turned at the sound of the mad, ever
quickening gallop, to see strong, firm
neclled cob, streaming with sweat,
feclSed with foam, red of nostril and
with bleeding mouth, ridden by hat
less man in shirtsleeves, tear along the
street and thunder up to the doctors
door, where, pulled on his launches,
he stopped and seemed to shoot his
rider to the ground. No sooner did the
man touch the dusty road than he was
at the door, tearing at the bells labeled
might" and Surgery" leaving the
painting, streaming horse to blow noisi-
ly and shake himself on his quivering
legs with down-drooped head. The
surgery boy leisurely finished his ne
farious drink and even rinsed the glass
before responding to the furious ring
ing of the bells, family curious to see
how long and how loud the man could
Or would ring. The doctors wife
jumped nervously at the first sharp
peal, the little dog barlled passionate
ly, the doctor dropped his pipe and
made face.
Come directly: the chickens are
taken with the pip; old Granny Jones
mas the tooth-ache; pray ring little
louder. Where is that scamp of
boy?" he murmured with sarcastic resig.
nation.
Horace you shall not go, Mrs. New
man decided. you've had nothing tc,
cat; You are tired out, and such salad
I've mixed"
II won't go, I'll be hanged if I'll
go."
Come to supper, before the ice melts
in the pail. Ill say you are"
Say I'm out, IN dead, | shan't DC
home all night, I'm at church, I've got
the smallpox" grumbled the doctor,
steadily moving all the time, not sup
pcr-wards, whittier his wife tried to
draw him, but towards the surgery
1--WE not been home half an hour. Am
a slave? Can't l have minutes
peace? May never cate"
"And the clarct you ordered yestcr-
day dear. ARd the salad" pleaded the
anxious wife.
I'm dog-tircd, and not horse in the
stable fit to go"
please, sir, It's Mr.. Adams, of
Thornly, and come at once and he's
rode hard and his horse is blowed,"
painted the surgery boy.
The tailor's sonwas excited, he heard
not only the loud, continuous ringing at
the surgery door, but the urgent sum-
mons of the hatless rider, who now
lcant, pale beneath the brown of his
drawn, wet face, painting against tha
door-post, staring vacantly at the oppo-
site window, regardless of the COM
ments and inquiries of little group Of
loungers, including the tailor, while
the blown horse snorted and shook his
quivering tlanlSs and reins thrown
loose on his neck
Presently the man, after word with |
the doctor, moved heavily from the |
door, and, taking the cob's bride on his |
arm, led him slowly up and down the
road. The doctor and his wife, the lat
ter conspicuous in her white dress,
moved quickly about the surgery and |
consulting-room, opening drawers and
brass-bound mahogany boxes, taking
things out and making up parcel,
while the surgery boy fled like one pos
sessed down the street and round the
corner, returning soon in a dog-cart
driven by a groom who leapt to the
pavement at the door, when the doctor
as quickly leapt into the cart, slowing
the parcel under the seat and driving
off with lessening clatter and rattle
down the echoing street, over the bridge
and up the hill into the silence Of tho
Nweet summer night.
CHAPTER H.
Stephen Adams stood still in the road,
the bride on his bare brown arm, and
started stupidity after the doctors dog
cart. A great sob broke from his broad
brown chest, the blue striped shirt on
which was open; it was sob Of relief.
Then he looked at the cob, and, going
over to the old-fashioned inn, relic Of