Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1898-09-03
A Suffering Saint.
By HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
Copyright. 1885. by the AuthOr.l

[Copyright 1895. by the Authorl
The river was sparkling. the boughs
were waving, the bees were humming,
MARBLES fell from the topmost top OF the
sun tipped pines and cedars, the warm
air was full of the scent of flowers and
the laughing of children, and suddenly
on all the sweet tranquility came the
harsh clang of bell, huge brass din
ner bell
sob, that poor sufferin saint" cried
Mrs Mather, running to her window. II
declare eff it amt too bad! Idunno how
she ever STAINS It'll There they go, them
feIlers. | sh'd think they'd be ashamed
to deathr' And while she was exclaim-
ing the man in his short sleeves in the
opposite dooryard, with a white face
and black burning eyes and tangle of
uncombed hair, went on fiourishing his
great dinner bell over his head, ringing
it with all his might, and half dozen
men who had just thrown down their
tools were running to answer 1t.
"Come on Come oni'' he shouted with
a strange hoarseness and thick artioula-
tion. "Come out Come ont Up with
ye Up with vel" And then woman
darted out of tho house and skipped up
ON the horse block, half laughing, half
crying and tossing her apron over her
face.
"It's shamel It's livin shame!"
cried Mrs Mather, eagerly peering be-
hind her sash curtain. Il declare
don { see why Humphrey Lavender don't
foIl 1sittorI ND all than
fellers gawkin and gapin round.
sh'd think you'd have somethin better to
do 18th youself, Tom BrierP ~ she called.
"Lord, Mis- Mather, faint my
fault. said Tom, stopping moment
under the open window to tie his shoe.
"She wants us to. She's asst us partic'-
Ter. She says he's got to be humored
wen he hes the spells, she says. She
says it's her cross, and his'n too. Lord,
faint our fault I've got to go and bid
her in now And he ran off posthaste
"Come now" cried Humphrey, still
fiourishing his bell about his blazing
face. Hurry up. / amt no time to
waste Who'll bid her on? Here she is
amt worth her weight in sawdust
Who starts the biddin? Sally Lavender
5 feet 5, as old as her tongue and lit
tie older than her teeth, and her tongues
hung in the middle and goes at both
ends. Five centsl 10 Burns, your mon
ey's burnin hole in your pocket
Do l hear 10? No sort of wife-l0-
I0-10--fragile, no account creetur
Ten, do you say--the price of drink.
Yes, she ain It with much, but she's
with that. Speak up therel Ten-10-
do | hear 10? Who bids Is for blamed
rag doll? l amt a-takin you in-you
know her-ain't one redeemin trait
temper of the old boy-idle-shif' less
you biddin, Tom Brier? I'm lettin her
GO. for W at she'll fetch-yes | be.
goin-20-am | offer
ed 20? By CORY, she won't fetch
quarter. Gone, at-20-to Tom Brier.
And you can take her now or hev her
later. :" And then the woman sprang
from the block and ran into the house
as if she could not bear it one moment
longer, and the men dispersed, and
Humphrey pocketed his 20 cents.
d" 'Tain't enough to fill the jug, F." he
muttered as he went into the house.
"Guess I'll hev to sell her over ag in. -
"Here, dearie, you take this, " said
Sally, meeting him with a bowl into
which she had hurriedly poured the con-
tents of a skillet,
"Don't be a-dearyin me now, he
said. "It ain t proper thing.
''Weil, never mind all that. Just
take this It's beef and barley broth, and
l billed a pepper and an yingin i'll it
It's real good and nourishin.
"Well, " he said, perhaps | will
You amt no objec now in maxim way
with me, SO | don't suppose you We ben
tinkerin it, I'll give some to the cat
fust, an eff nothin happens to her mebbe
I'll take it.