Barre evening telegram. (Barre, Vt.) 1898-19??, 1899-04-21
THE LITTLE CURATE.

The curate and Miss Edmiston were
walking down the main street Of the
village engaged in conversation, which,
being that of a recently affianced pair.
need not here be repeated.
Miss Edmiston carried herself with
an air of pretty dignity, made none the
less apparent by the fact that she was
fully two inches taller than her lover,
the Rev. John St. John. He was thin,
wiry little man, dark haired and pale
complexioned and was much troubled
in his daily walk with a certain uncon-
querable shyness. That he should have
won the heart of handsome Nancy Ed
mission was a matter for surprise and
discussion among the residents in Brox-
bourne.
"Such a very uninteresting young
mani" said the maiden ladies over their
afternoon tea.
$50 ridiculously retiringl How did
he ever come to propose?" remarked
the mothers whose daughters assisted in
giving women an overwhelming and
not altogether united majority in Brox-
bourne society.
The men, on the other hand, voted
St. John good sort, and his parish
toner's, in their rough ways. owned to
his many qualities
"You re a dear little girl, Nancy
the curate was stammering, looking up
at his beloved, when they were both
stopped short on the narrow pavement
A burly workman was engaged in chas-
Using a small boy with weapon in
the shape of a stout leather belt. The
child screamed, and the father pre-
sumably cursed.
"Stopl' cried the curate.
The angry man merely scowled and
raised the strap for another blow. St.
John laid a OBTAINING hand on the fell
low s arm, the temerity of which caused
the latter such surprise that he loosened
his grip for moment, and the young
ster fled bowling up an alley.
"What the"- spluttered the bully,
dancing round the curate, who seemed
to shrink nearer to his sweetheart.
"Let us go. dear, he said. He had
grown white and was trembling.
At this juncture two Of the work
mans cronies appeared at the door Of
the alehouse opposite and, seeing how
matters stood, crossed the road and,
with rough hands and soothing curses,
conducted their furious friend from the
scene
"Horrible!' sighed the curate as the
lovers continued their walk.
Miss Edmiston's head was held g
trifle higher. "If were man, she
said, 81 would have thrashed him.
would indeed.
You think should have punished
him then?' said the curate mildly
"He was a much larger man than l.
you know. y
Nancy was silent. She was vaguely
but screly disappointed in her lover. HI
was not exactly the hero she had dream
ed of. How white and shaky he ha(
turned!
"You surely did not expect me t.
take part in street row, Nancy. hi
said presently, somehow suspecting he
thoughts. He knew her romantic ideas
But she made no reply.
$50 you think acted in cowardl.
fashion, he questioned after a chill
pause.
81 don t think your cloth is an excuse
anyhow" she blurted out suddenly ant
cruelty. The next instant she was fille'
with shame and regret. Before sh
could speak again, however, the curat
had lifted his hat and was crossing tn
street. An icy "Goodby" was all b
vouchsafed her
MI St. John was returning from
paying visit of coincidence some dis
lance out of the village, and he ha
taken the short cut across the moor.
was clear, summer afternoon, wee
since his parting with Nancy. A part
ing in earnest it had been, for the day
had gone by without meeting or com
munication between them. The curat
was a sad young man, though the ange
in his heart still burned fiercely. T
have been called coward by the WON
an he loved was thing not likely to b
forgotten. His recent visit, too, ha
been particularly trying. In his soul h
felt that his words of comfort had bee
unreal; that, for all he had striven, h
had failed in his mission to the bereave
mother So he trudged across the moo
with slow step and bent head. givin
no heed to the summer beauties aroun
him.
He was about half way home whe
his somber meditations were suddenl
interrupted A man rose from TIL
heather, where he had been lying, an
stood in the path, barring the curate
progress.
Nov, Mister Parsonl" he said, wit
menace in his thick voice and bloate
face
Good afternoon. my man, returne
st. John. recognizing the brute Of
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