The evening times. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1895-1902, 1898-03-11
EZEKIEL'S COURT6HIP.

apron; then famed herself with the edge
| of 1t.
| g. Il do declare. eff this amt the very hot
/ test day 1 ever see. even here on Hill
| Top, and them bees do make an awful
tiresome Noise she said. half aloud, look
ing across the heat haze in the pretty
| garden to some beehives on a bench IN
der the trees. 81 can't seem to settle to
anythin' sensible today; / can't think
what's taken me-" she continued, pres
emily, rising from the steps and lifting
two tin pans. one in each hand.
She ratified the shelled peas about med
| itatively, for a few minutes. then turned
and walked into the house. IL was an old
fashioned dwelling, built in style Of
long ago, with a wide hall running
through the middle OF it. Martha Ann
lived there all alone, with only the MEM
cries of her forty years for company.
There had been day when she might
have said "good-by'' 10 the old home. and
gone away with somebody duty TO
"A helpless old father had changed her des-
tiny at a critical moment. Now. after long
years, the object of her faithful devO-
ton lay sleeping in the churchyard, and
Martha Ann Chisby found herself a lone
ly woman, well on In years, with only a
few traces of her fiower-like beauty Of
twenty winters ago. She managed TO get
along. and ask no help of any one There
had been some little money left and
there was the old place dearer
than ever to her wOman's heart. now that
she was bereft Of all kith and kin.
II was dark and cool in the wide hall.
save for a bright bar. of sunlight lying
across the threshold Of the open doorway.
Marthy Ann. coming back from the warm
kitchen whittier she had gone 10 set the
peas boiling for her midday meal, paused
suddenly before shining oblOng mirror,
hanging upon the wall. 1t had been a
long while since she had given her own
features any serious thought, bus this
morning she seemed bent upon doing Tn
usual things-memOries of the past fit
ted across her mind. and she actually
smiled at the faded face reflected back 10
her from the glass. Starting guilty. as
though fearful lest some one should catch
her in an act Of apparent vanity, Martha
Ann made an uncertain step or two away.
Then, realizing the isolation Of her posi-
tion she came back with firm tread TO her
fascinating self-refectiOns. look OF de-
termination grew upon her thin but still
pretty lips, albeit her hands trembled a
little as she raised them to her head and
hastily pulled out the pins. that detained
her hair in its hard Ungainly knot. She
silently piled IL loosely upon the top of
her head. pulled soft lock or two that
still boasted goodly share OF golden
brown about her temples, and with a
shamed look. stepped back to study the
effect.
a swift color few to her pale cheeks
and il must be confessed that the woman.
in that shadowy light. looked startlingly
like the girl Of many years ago-the girl.
who. TO her own cost, had placed Duty
before Love-a love that her heart had
plead for with all its might
With the girlish blush came a new sug-
gestion. and not caring to crush the ten
der impulse. Martha Ann went swiftly
up the stairs, never pausing until she
reached the attic. There, kneeling
trembling before an old trunk. she gently
pushed the shaky lid back A faint OdOr
of lavender mingled with camphor rose
up to greet her as she bent over. and
with eager fingers searched among the
folds OF an ancient dimity muslin. for a
packet of yellow letters that lay hidden
there.
What depth Of joy she found in the
touch of those old letters. none but Mar
that Ann herself can say. The slight
physical contact carried her back TO the
days when the ardent writer Of them
breathed the same words into her listen
ing ears. and the hard past was forgot
ten. as she went slowly. lovingly through
their contents. Ii filed her heart with
sadness. yet there was n charm she could
not resist Indeed they miss much out
their lives who have not felt the pulse
quicken. or eyes fill as hands fall light
" on some attic treasure of yelIowed pa
pers. almost forgotten. but pregnant still !
with memories to hearts that never grow !
old. As the last letter slipped gently /
through her thin hands. Martha Ann |
Chisby's head went down upon the aged |
trunk Slow tears trickled over her tired |
NJ ha4u1 Of mellow SUNLIGHT |
shifting across the dusty attic floor, rest !
ed for a time upon her bowed head
If it was warm up on Hill Top that |
morning, IL was broiling in the old New |
England village in the hollow of the [
hill, and Ezekiel Jones pulled UP his !
streaming horses under the shade of a
giant elm by the roadside TO rest.
by ginger, But amt it hot. Ma
jor,' he inquired of the poor beast.
whose sides labOred from the exertion
of drawing the buggy up the long In
cline. Huge drops of water rolled from
him and made little pools of black in
the thick white dust of the road. Eze-
kiel regarded the suffering creature
anxiousy for a time; then throwing the
reins over the dashboard clambered
down out of the buggy and proceeded
TO loosen and lift off some of the har-
ness.
Its a cruel thing 10 drive a beast
such weather, no mistake. Eff we don't |
have a thunder storm soon that will |
blow the spire clean of the church |
then I'll be blowed myself he con-
tinued, having relieved the horse TO his |
entire satisfaction. For Ezekiel Jones
could not bear to see a man or beast |
unhappy.
After busting a place carefully with |
n bit of rag from the back of the buggy.
Ezekiel sat cautiously down upon a log |
beneath the tree. The dust lay thick on
either side, and he carefully laid the |
tails of his best black coat. one on each
knee; then fell to Eliminating while WHIP
ing the inside of his hat with highly |
colored handkerchief
His gaze wandered idly across the white |
road. into the blossoming fields beyond. |
where the flowers nodded lazly under |
the fierce rays of the sun. and not blade |
of the long grass moved in the still. |
breathless air. Gradually slow smile be- !
gan TO dawn upon Ezekiers solemn face. |
and his mild blue eyes twinkled. He car |
ried his fifty years well, though inclined |
to a stOutness that only emphasized the |
good-nature of his ruddy feature.
No one to look at him would have ever /
supposed Ezekiel Jones carried a secret /
grief with him Yet such was the case |
and in all the years since sorrow had |
lOuNHcu iit hdt never tuEHtO HIS |
eyes toward Hill Top, but a sudden mist |
had blurred their clear blue for mo- |
ment.
81 dunno how she'll take it-but it's |
done, sure as Gospel. and most everybody |
must "a seen it by nowr' he suddenly |
chuckled. aloud. Then a swift gravity |
spread over his face. II shell risk it, |
fer I'd be a lost man eff II came to her |
ears by anybody, but-Lord. how'd / ever |
muster up courage ter do it? I declare. |