Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1898-07-21
"A Suffering Saint.
By HARRIET PRESCOTT sPorFoRD.
tcopyright. 1898, by the Author.1

copyright, 1898, by the Authorl
The river was sparkling, the boughs
were waving, the bees were humming,
MARBLES fell from tho topmost top of the
sun tipped pines, and cedars, the warm
cir was full of the scent of flowers and
the laughing Of children, and suddenly
on all the sweet tranquility came the
harsh clang of a bell, huge brass din
ner bell.
"Oh, 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 90, them
fellers. sh' ID think they'd be ashamed
to DEATH And while she was eSclaim-
ing the man in his short slesves in the
opposite dooryard, with white face
and black burning eyes and tanglo of
uncombed hair, went on flourishing 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 it.
"Come on Como on ~ he shouted with
. strange hoarsenoss and thick articula-
tion. "Come out! Come out Up with
sc! Up with yeP And then woman
tarted out Of tho house and skipped up
on the horse block half laughing half
crying and tossing hor apron over her
face.
Its o shamel It's livin shame"
cried Mrs Msther, eagerly peering be-
hind her sash curtain. ~ declare
don t see why Humphrey Lavender dom
fall dend, poor critter And all them
folders gawkin and gapin round. l
sh'd think you'd have somethin better to
do 18th youself, Tom Brierv' she called.
Lord, Mis- Nather, faint my
fault" said Tom, stopping moment
under the open window to tie his shoe.
"She wants Us to. She's asst us partio'-
Ter. She says he's got to be humored
wen ,ho 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 posshaste.
Come now," cried Humphrey, still
1ourishing his bell about his blazing
face. Hurry up. / amt no time to
waste. Who'll bid her on? Here she is
-aint worth her weight in sawdust.
Who starts the biddin? Sally Lavender,
feet 3, as old as her tongue and lit
tie older than her teeth, and her tongue g
hung in the middle and goes at both
euds. Five contsl 10 Burns, your mon
ey's burnin hole in your pocket.
Do / hear 10? No sort of wife-10--
l0-10-fragile, no account oreotur.
Ten, do you say-the price Of q drink.
Yes, she amt with much, but she's
with that. Speak up tb@e! Ten-10-
do hear 15f Who bids 8 for q blamed
rag doll? amt a-takin you in-you
temper Of the old boy-idle-shif' less
you biddin, Tom Brier? I'm lettin her
60 for wat she'll fetch-yes I be.
goin-20-am offer.
ed 30? BY CORY, she won't fetch q
quarter. Gone, at-20-to Tom Brier.
And you can take her now or hev hei
later" And then the woman sprana
from the block and ran into the house
as if she could not bear it ono momen,
longer. and the men dispersed, ant
Humphrey pooketed his 20 cents
d" 'Tain't enough to I'll the Jug" ht
muttered as no went into the house
"Guess III how to sell her over ag in. I"
Here, dearie, you take this" sale
Sally. meeting him with bowl int
which she had hurriedly poured the con
tents of a skillet.
Don't be a-dearyin me now," h
said. at amt proper thing"
"Well, never mind all that. Jus
take this. It's beef and barley broth, ant
l billed a pepper and an yingin in it
It's real good and .nourishin.
"Well," he said, perhaps l will
You amt no objeo' now in maxim wa.
with me, SO don't suppose you've bel