Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1896-11-26

dressed as Miss Mehitable, she was so
prim and severe even, and upon whom
her 55 years or so sat none too lightly.
1 had also a guilty sense of sin at my
hearts depths for conniving to furnish
her mother with forbidden luxuries.
Not that Hitty ever spoke Of it, but she
looked it, screwing her cold, gimlet
eyes into me, as much as to say, II can
see right through you, deceitful boyp
She was ever engaged in binding shoes,
at which work her mother assisted, for
the house and old fashioned garden
were all the dead Elisha had left them
when he went away ON that last voy-
age, from which he never returned, and
their utmost endeavor sufficed only to
keep the wolf from the door.
But their table, even if it were
sparsely dotted with eatables, when
they took their frugal meals, always had
snow white cloth and "chany" cups
and saucers. plates and silver, polished
until they mirrored everything in the
room. 1t was a delight to sit at that lit
tie table, and 1 felt highly honored
whenever was invited to do so.
"'Twan't always like this, Benny"
chirped Aunt Mary fisher, as drew up
my chair to the cheerful tea table one
evening. "'Twan't always sich a
little table as this. When poor Usher
was alive, we used to eat in the big room,
t'other side the chimbly. Ye amt
never seen that big room, have ye? No,
an p'raps ye never will, for it's only
open for weddin's an funerals. There
won't be no more weddin's, I'm afeard.
in my family, for Hitty don't seem to
be of the marryin kind, an l feel, some
how, as though I'm goin to live for
ever"
"Lor. mother, what talkr' said
Hitty, with severe countenance. 81
sh'd think ye'd be afraid to make light
Of serious things. The Lord gave, an
the Lord taketh away"
"An blessed be the name of the
Lord, >" rejoined Aunt Mary fisher rev.
erently. II ain It maxim light of serious
things. Hitty. Of course I'll go, in his
good time, but it amt nothin to worry
over. Better laugh an make merry
while we live, Benny; that's my motto.
When was yer age, now-but how old
are ye, boy?"
'I'm 13 next month.
Thirteen. Well, that amt so very
old; just in yer teens, an the whole
world before ye. Dear mel Thirteen ;
that's the number that set down to the
big m hog ny table in the room t'other
side the chimbly, the very last time
ycur poor father was with Us, Hitty.
It's an unlucky number, they say, an 1
know tbs. !"
"Yes, indeedy," she muttered, draw
ing out and filling her pipe, which lay
concealed behind the lamb. Then there
was silence for a few minutes, while
she stuck her head up the chimney and
refreshed herself with a few whiffs Of
the weed. That was the one thing that
Hitty insisted on--that her mother
should not send the smoke out into the
room. Its bad enough to smoke" she
complained, '' 'thout smellin up a
whole house If ye must do it, mother,
then smoke up the chimbly." And SO
the poor old soul thrust her head up the
fiue, where the draft was sometimes
strong enough TO set her few remaining
hairs all aflutter, and extracted consola-
tion from her beloved pipe During this
interval Of quiet she was collecting her
thoughts, which took the trend of rem
iniscence suggested by the number ID.
''That amt the only time neither, she
insisted, shaking the ashes out of the
pipe. What makes me think so is that
air Thanksgiyin dinner that / was in
vited to up to Cousin Izry's. amt
never BEN up there sence. but I'm
minded Of it an. what follared. Set ND