The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1899-03-11

ding. He wishes he'd got a gIrl to helm
you during the thrashng. He wishes
he'd done more OF the mllkin' himself,
ana had !et you have the butter and egg
money. He's a-thinkin' all the time OF
now sweet you was when YOU married
him. and come out from, the millinery
shop on TO the farm. He remembers
how white your hands was. and what
pretty clothes you had-rIbbons, and
such like. And he Keeps remembering,
too, how you got to look SO thin, and
sad. and stooped-and O, how awful
hard-worked your pretty hands looked
when they was crossed on your breast
IN the coffin. And-and." his voice
broke. and he gulped. he'd like You to
know that he's sorrS-sorry--and, that,
IL he could only live them ten years over
again things would be dlfferent-O, 60
| different" l5G
again there was silence in the room.
DO you understand oil I said. Mrs.
Cicero? II you do. move your hand"
The fingers on the coverlet moved
rcstlessly. -
That's right. I'm thankful to you,
Mrs. Cicero. must hurry and get
through before the folks come. You'll
tell her that know, and II she seems
hurt about my-nbout ms. gettln' mar
ricd again, why lust tell her she can't
feel any worse about that than do"
The hand on the bed opened and
shut.
TEL her I wanted some one to look
after the young calves. and the milk,
| and all the rest OF It. didn't think I
was Settln' one that wouldn't let me
call my soul my own. but that's just
what happened to me--and served me
right for an old fool. Tell her caught
Tnrtnr. Mrs. Cicero-a brown-skin-
ned old maid tha.--dld pou speak, Mrs.
Cicero? No? / thought you snid some.
thing. Well, I'm gettlr' my punishment
good and hard. Tell her an angel out
OF heaven couldn't live peaceable with
the kind of wife got now, nagglny,
cantankerous, small as ground spice,
and bitter as green gooseberries."
The hand OH the bed opened and
c!atchcd c0nvulsively. Peter Pollock
rose with sigh OF relief.
You're awful good to take these mes.
sages for me. Mrs. Cicero. Tell her, too,
that I'm goin' to sell lot OF hogs that
cot In partnership with Dick Howard.
She-that pison Ivy ! marrled--don't
know a thing about them. and she'll
never guess where the money come from
when the finest rhinestone that ever was
planted In the Bubble cemetery goes up
over Syrirgy's grave. I'm going now.
and my hearts best thanks to you.
wish l could do something in return.
There amt much I can do. I'll go to
your funeral In n carriage. Mrs. Cicero.
and I'll send in some of the cuttin's off'n
my lilac pushed to be set out In your
lot. Good-by, and my dear love to
Syrngy."
He met no one as he stole out, escaped
from the vicinity OF the house, and
started to walk home. He had to pass
through town to reach his farm in the
north. As he walked up the main street
he noticed that the door OF the furniture
shop was open and that the drayman
and Mr.. McLelland, the undertaken,
were lifting pine box Into wagon.
Halo" he said, who's dead?"
Mr.. McLelland. hobbling around as
briskly as his stlff leg would permit.
turned his shrewd. whlte-bearded old
face over his shoulder.
Mrs. Morr!son-Mrs. Cicero"
What" gasped Peter
He fell back. staring wildly ut the two
men.
Yes. she died this afternoon. Doc
Eldridge didn't know, and he went out
there. She was dead when he got there,
so Eldrldge come back. Sam Morrison
has been here anG made all arrange
ments. HIe did pick out real pretty
casliet. II do say it-quite as fashion
able one as has ever been brought to
Bubble"
Peter stood rIveted to the sidewalk.
whats the matter with you. Pol
locll?" the druyman questioned. "AIn't
you feelin' Eood?"
"She-she moved her hand" blurted
Peter.
aIcLelland turned from his congenIal
task TO peer at the speaker The dray-
man gcinned as he lifted the hitchng
weight into the wagon.
"Aw. he's been TO Kansas City. and
he's come home rocky. They alus git
full when they go there
But he's q prohib!tionist!" protested
the undertaken in 4 shocked undertonc.
"Prohibitionist nawthin'. They all