The times., 1899-03-05

I that Mary in many things had behaved
| badly; that while she remained | could not
| uphold authority: that in the end it would
/ be bad for Margaret Upon which repre-
| sentations he turned bis back as his habit
| is in all controversy, and went out of The
| room. | had once or twice attempted a
! word with Mary herself on the subject of
! her approaching departure. She heard me
| in stold silence, as far as her tongue was
concerned, but it must be confessed she
made the plates and dishes, the kitchen
| doors. and the tinware to speak.
/ Margaret grown a year old now, was un-
usually fretful on the eventful day which
was to see the last of the general 1t is
a humiliating fact that in spite of all my
love and devoted care. my anxious desire
to please. the child would always turn
| from my Establishments to the rough arms,
the hard bosom of Mary-a curious freak
| of preference a little difficult to bear.
She was sitting on my lap. resisting all
my efforts to amuse her when Mary, an
nounced by her habitual attack on the door,
appeared The general" was attired in
the green merino. grown shorter now, the
! black hat and white feather which on
Sunday afternoons, in the rectory SER
| wants pew, were such an offence in my
eyes. but which Mary had stoutly refused
to relinquish. She was equipped for her
/ journey, down to her white cotton gloves
and her horn handled umbrella
So she stood for minute silent in the
! doorway, and in her eyes was a great scorn
! of my Intellectual efforts to comfort the
| fractions child-a great longing was in
| them too.
In my own eyes, somewhat to my aston
| ishment the tears arose. The girl had been
comfort in many ways, although so i'm
possible in others. To be going away from
Dulditch. to be leaving forever little Mar
garet was not that a fate to awake COM
passion in the hardest heart?
You have been a good girl. Mary" /
said. We shall be glad to hear that you
are doing well. We shall not forget you
On Mary's part ungracious silence; on
that of little Margaret loud cries and a
passionate struggle to get out of my arms
and to escape to Mary.
Put 'er down and let 'er Grape" Mary
cried with a kind of contemptuous au-
thority. You be a-hurtin' on 'er like
that"
You'll have your mothers little Ethel.
you know, | reminded her. determined not
TO show offence: while Margaret being
put uon the floor. had hushed her cry
| ing ana was putting much energy and en-
| thusiasm into the exercise of "craping'
| | had hold of her dress, but she had bolt
ed under the table, and, finding it incon-
venient to follow, 1, perforce. let her 60
| running round to catch the child as she
emerged. found myself too late. With a
crow of delight the little thing had made
| for Mary, and clutched the green merino
| dress.
Triumphantly Mary flung down her UNI
| bre!la and clawed the baby to her breast
Il ha' got 'er," she cried with a defiant
| look at me. She held the child tightly
| with one arm and pulled off her hat and
feather. Il baIn't a-goin, TO lave 'er, nay
| ther." she declared, glaring at me- Moth
| in ont make me lave 'er; and SO | tell
YER
| And. although this waslb by no means the
only effort made to get rid of Mary, she
never did leave US.
Time little Margaret live I'm agoin' to
stop along of her." she always said When
she be gone III go ifyer like"
But although Margaret has been gone
this many year, Mary is with US still.
She is a hard-featured, middle-aged wo-
man now, speaking always of herself as a
!. gal" sttll. She has oontrived to save
| money in our service. the green merinc
| having had few SUCCESSORS, and Mary be-
| ing always 'wunnerful keerful over hel
| things When savings are spoken of suit
| ors will appear, and more than once the
| household has been disturbed to its foun-
| dations by the announcement that its proI
and mainstay was about to be wrenchet
from it-that our Mary was going to be
married.
Experience of the worth of such intlma.
| tions enables us now to treat the news
| with outward respect, but without any un.
due disturbance of equanimity
Il ha' got another young man. l bt
goin' to git married, come Michaelmas." /!
a sentence with which We are now pretty
| familiar
Mary's courting exercises run about the
| same course, and We can watch the pro-
ceedings without any too lively an interest
knowing well what will be the end They
| generally begin, as in the case of Teddy
| Pyman, young man of blameless charac-
| ter. but of rather weak intellect, over the
| chickens in the spring. Mary is clever il
the rearing of fowls, and in the spring o.
the year good deal of her time is spent
on the drying ground" where the hen.
coops are. Teddy. who makes a short cu
through the small enclosed meadow on his
| way home from work, sits on the gate be.
meath the April sky and, with an abstract
ed air, pulls off a twig from the thorr
| hedge beside him. or Il gummy chestnut
but from the great tree above his head
filings 1t at Mary's dress as she busies her.
self about the chickens. Mary. mutterinl
| TO herself, with her eyes dropped to the
little yellow chicks she has gathered in hei
apron, is as unresponsive as a stone wall
| Having presently finished with the chick.
ems, and without so much IS Il glance iI
Teddy's direction, Mary twitches some
clothes Off the linen line, stoops to pick III
large turnip which has fallen from
passing tumbril, and walks toward thC
house The young man has slipped from
| the gate, and slouching behind her Still
endeavors to obtain her attention by mis-.
siles-pebbles now, or dry Jumps of earth
dispatched in her direction, and which hi
her once and again on cheek or shoulder
or in the small of her back.
Having reached the safe shelter OF tn,
kitchen door, Mary turns, and without tn,
slightest warning. responds to the abov
delicate attentions by finging the turni
she carries straight In her admirers face
The turnip is so large and she dispatche
it with SO hearty a force that it looks lik
taking Teddy's head off He is not
quick lad but he manages to duck tn
ugly head in time TO save it. and he greet
the loud slamming of the door as Mar,
retreats with a yell OF laughter.
| When the next evening comes he is ol
the gate again: and the next. and the next
| Presently Mary goes out to shut up he
chickens for the night without her cap
The cap is an immense improvement t
Mary's appearance, but she does not rec
ognize the fact, and always doffs 1t whe
admirers are about. Soon there come
an evening when the grass of the drying
ground being slippery from the late rain
Mary tumbles over a refractory chcke
which refuses to be tucked under II
mothers wing. and measures her lengt
upon the ground. Whereat the gallan
gentleman upon the gate roars with a
uncouth laughter.
Don't set goldering theer," Mar
says. with stiff smile upon her own Ion
lip and a sidelong glance from beneath he
white iashes. Come and ketch it yer
self. yer chump- -hid,''
So encouraged, Teddy slides slowly fror
the gate, secures the refractory chicken