Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1899-05-24

the last stroke OF the clock was cian8-
ing. That was her rule. Mercy was as
methodical as she was neat.
Goodness" she exclaimed, there's a
hyEthere's two fiies!' She caught up
one Of the deftly folded newspapers
that she kept hidden in handy hooks
and proceeded to wage war.
"Nathan's so carelessw she fretted.
But didn't think they'd find their
way clear In from the stable"
She peered into the sitting room. and
Hotsced that one Of the papers On the
lounge was, awry. "Nathan's been IN
there-yes, there's a wisp Of hay on the
speckled rug! Now s'pOse I've got to
go to sweepingw
1t was quarter Of 9 before supper was
ready on the little kitchen table. Mercy
had arranged the dishes precisely, but
there seemed very few Of them. ITS
too hot to light the FIRE, and 'twould
muss up dreadfully-the shavings and
all. Wen have just a cold lunch. Nath-
An ougstn't to eat hearty victuals after
haying and getting all heated up.
''Nathan. Na-than" she called from
the porch door. which she warily open
ed only a crack. He was not out there.
She could not find him anywhere.
She went all over the house, and
peered from all the tightly screened
windows. She put on her sunbonnet
and blew the dinner horn. She always
put on her sunbonnet when she blew
the horn, nobody knew why. Mercy
didn't know herself.
There was q little circular hole in the
upper part of the kitchen door, protect
ed by a swinging disk Of wood. 1t was
to blow the dinner horn through. Ma
than made 1t for her so that she need
not open the door and run the risk of
the entrance of flies. She slid away
the wooden cover and quickly inserted
the end of the horn into the hole, and
blew long, resonant blasts. They echoed
back to her lOnesOmely.
The clock struck siX-seven. Still
Nathan did not come. Mercy went out
to the bayfield, and all over the little
farm. Her heart grew heavy with new.
unacknowledged dread. Where was
Nathan?
I'm beginning to get scared" poor
Mercy confessed to herself. Why was
1t that she kept remembering the sharI
words she had said to Nathan? Why
did she remember how old and tired out
he had looked at dinner?
Terrible things she had read Of and
heard of kept recurring to her mini
with dark insinuatiOn. Could it be pos
slble that weary old men with fussy.
scolding wives ever-ever-Oh, no! But
where could Nathan be? Eight O'clock
one, two, three, four, five, six. seven
eight slow, solemn. significant clangs.
Mercy went out into the woodshed-in
to the estable-anywhere, away from the
sound of the clocks voice that scolded
necessarily.
The hungry old horse in his stall was
whinnying and paving for his supper
Mercy stroked his nose.
I'll get you some hay, pony" she
said. She went upstairs to throw il
down to him, and there was Nathan
asleep in the hay! He lay in the pro
found, relaxed slumber of utter weari
ness. The yellow almanac had fallen
from his fingers and lay beside him. She
knew he was tired. and not very well.
He had been driven to take his rest in
the barn!
Mercy tiptOed back into the house.
breathing. long, free breaths all the
way. and forgetting to shut the doors.
She built fire and filed the teakettle
and made many trips to the pantry.
coming back with sundry dishes that
Nathan liked, and crowding the table
with them. She took a lighted lamp in
to the sitting room and set 1t on the ta-
BILE. With a vigorous sweep of her arm
she bundled together the newspapers on
the lounge and carried them out.
There" she said. now I'll fetch a
pillow and put the paper handy"
4 few minutes later she stood in the
porch door and blew long. steady, pene
trating calls on the horn. Nathan heard
them and came in, looking guilty.
II guess l went to sleep, Mercy" he
said Il must have. 1 was all beat out
when / came in"
They sat down together to the savory
little supper. The pungent, pleasant