The Newtown bee., 1897-05-28

CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEKS ISSUE
 "It'd be the best thing you ever did, she continued, decidedly. ''If you're thinkin' serious of Julyie Frayle you're spoken gal, without one mite of respect for old folks. She fairly driv me away jest now by her talk an actions. There ain't better gal Tn the kintry than Hitty Wells. What if she ain't & beauty Looks ain't everything, an that's all there is to Julyie Frayle."
 Reuben sat stupefied, unable to say a word in reply. He was a reserved, quiet, young fellow, and this unexpected in- trusion into the sanctities of his affect ions completely unnerved him. His con fusion emboldened Miss Polly to disclose her reasons for taking such an unfavor- able view of Julia Frayle's character. She had a natural aptitude for descrip- tion, and really remarkable memory for slights and innuendoes, real and imagined, and as she talked this memory asserted itself, giving disastrous color ing to certain events that, viewed from Miss Polly's prejudiced standpoint, fur nished testimony of & pitiless kind against the spirited but good-hearted girl. Reuben Carter's face grew serious as he listened, for listen he did, though filled with resen tment against his caustic little informant, and despising himself Hou lA;n Hm hoI hot what she said was true, and when he put her down at her door he felt that it was as we'll that he had learned these facts in time to subdue the strong affection that, all unsuspected until recently, had been growing in his heart for Julia Frayle. He lived with an invalid mother, fret ful little woman whom he adored, and it made his heart leap when he reflected how easily illusion might have led him into committing mistake that would harder one.
 That evening Miss Polly, watching at her little front window that spied upon the village street, saw Reuben Garter leave the bunch of columbine at Hetty Wells's door.
 More than week later a protracted and unreasonable rain, that almost achieved the proportions of deluge, swelled the river that flowed through the town to a size that caused great anxiety to those who lived near it's banks. It seemed as if their homes must become the prey of the advancing waters If the countless little streams and brooks that found an outlet therein continued to reserve. The big bridge that crossed the stream was still stanch and unyielding, but another, lower down, of far less solid and pretentious construction, was not to be depended upon should the river con- tinue to rise.
 Polly Anderson's little cottage was in the endangered section, on the river side of pretty, elm-shaded street. But few houses lay in that vicinity, and behind them stretched usually a broad flat ex- panse of meadow land, but this meadow had been suddenly transformed into 8 turbid lake in which trees were dwarfed and bushes barely showed their remon- strant heads.
 It was not for lack of invitations that Polly Anderson had remained at home during the rise of the waters, for there were none of her acquaintances who would not willingly have received her at a period so possessed among her engaging habits that of preferring to favor them with her company at inconvenient sea- sons, and withhold her presence if by any combination of circumstances 1t would have been really desirable. So, though by remaining in her threatened cottage she caused genuine anxiety to her friends, remain there she did, regard. less of remonstrance.
 Mrs Frayle had been one of the earliest and most urgent of those who had press ed their hospitality upon her. "Now, Miss Polly" she had urged, with tears in her soft, kind eyes, ''do come home with me, 1 shan't get wink O sleep thinkin' of you down here alone. The Wellses are gone bag and baggage, an I met old Elder Penny jest now, an he said he was comin' down this afternoon to take Mary Ellen's fambly home with him. I don't believe the Ayrses'n dream of sleepin' in their house over night either"
 "Catch 'em," interposed Miss Polly, scornfully. They're alters glad enough | tN sptf fvaS Y seed sich an onesy pack"
 Mrs Frsyle dropped her arms despair ingly at her sides. ''Yor're fiyin' in the face of Providence, Polly Anderson 5 said she, more severely than she could usually bring herself to speak. "You know as we'll as do that the bridges in danger. If 1t should give way there's nuthin' to prevent it's comin' right do VII on you, an I believe your chance wouldn't be wuth reckonin' on."
 sThe water ain't rig an inch since din- ner,'' affirmed Miss Polly obstinately. By tomorrow mornin' it'll be sunk way back of them trees. I've seen freshets afore.''
 "Well Pm sure hope you'll live to see lem agin," said Mrs Frayle hastily, and with tartness for which she was in- stantly penitent. 'sDo come, Miss Polly, I'm real scarey about that bridge"
 Don't say another word, Mig Frayle,' , advised Miss Polly, with warning in- fiection. "The wust uf it's over, promise you, an I never could abide folks that scared at nothin'.n
 Mrs Frayle went away without further l I.-nnnkr.In Rnf nfkar fhrnrnsh khs