The Montgomery advertiser., 1901-11-12
THE ADVERTISERS DAILY SHORT STORY

That afternoon all the house was in the most spotless order. The kitchen floor had been secured and then sanded in a beautiful patten. The brasses shone like gold and the beds were made in smooth mounls. covered with gay quilts. All the work was over until Monday. In this house. Saturday was the day of holy preparation. and no work was done after higbinoon, whereas there were homes in the neighborhood that were content to settle down after sunset into the Sab beth peace and calm. On the spotiess pam try shelves stood loayes of rye and In- dtanrbread. . bowl of mush and dish of baked beans, for no fire could be made for cooking purposes until Monday.
 It was many years ago. of course; be- fore the revolution, before meeting houses were churehs; in the days of tithing-men and candles. and pewter plates, and warming pans; when the country was still young and the inhabitants were set in their ways.
 Enos Judkins slipped from the log cabin walked listlessly to the barn, and from there down through the orchard, and thence on to the brook that gurgled away into the forest. There was no work to be done and he liked work, and he had on his Sunday clothes. and above all things he disliked to be dressed up"
 There were those who said that Enos Judkins was not "all there" that part of him-the best part-had been left at the
 meeting house where his parents had been killed by the Indians, and where his own scalp had been all but removed. Around
 his head, just under the edge of hair a livid line still showed where. the knife had circled.
 But all there or not, Deacon White found him the best boy-or man--he had ever hired. though Enos was yet to finish
 his seventeenth year. The boy never grumbled at work and he never spoke unless spoken to: and those were attrfb- utes which the thrifty deacon could thor ouEhlv appreciate. No matter what the task. the boy was always resdy for 1t, day or night. rain or shine: and his man. ner of doing 1t was as sturdy as it was -unostentatious.
 So now he moved listlessly along the bI ook. kicking discontentedly at pebble or broken stick from time to ,time. Grad ually he increased the distance between him and the house. until at length he had approached very near to the forest Then suddenly he paused and gazed straight ahead. his eyes losing their va cancv and becoming round and fierce. But whatever he saw the effect of it semed to pass away almost instantly, for he turned and began to retrace his way
 along the brook, walking slowly and stop ping even more frequently than before. As he neared the orchard he even sat down
 upon a fallen tree and idly swung his legs. At length he arose and sauntered into the orchards.
 Scarcely had the intervening foliage shut in between him and the forest. how ever. when his whole manner changed. Dropping his head and pressing his el- bows clc sc to his side, he sped like deer
 through the orchard and on past the barn to the house.
 And yet all he had seen had been a foot print in the moist soil: but the toes were turned toward the forest, and water was still oozing into the dpression, and the print had been made by a moccasin. Deacon White was standing in the door,
 way, clad in his Sunday suit of sober drab His face was stern and composed, and though 1t was turned toward his thrifty acres, 1t was a gaze that was un- seeing, for his thoughts were absorbed in things befitting the near Sabbath. He did not even see the figure leave the orchard and speed toward him, and it was only when he was almost brushed from his
 feet by the figure crowding past into the house, that his gaze and thoughts drop quick enough to detect a rent in the shoulder of the boys Sunday coat, and to see mud splashed half way up to his
 knees. 'Enos," he called sternly, "come here What means such ungodly haste?" But Enos was already half way up the ladder which led to his own room in the | loft. Three minutes later he was down again. his Sunday. garments exchanged for those of every day wear. The deacon s eyes opened vida with horror and wrath. With a quick stride which seemed out of keeping with his pious meditations, he crossed to a corner and selected heavy oak stick which was used to drive cattle. This he grasped determinedly.
 Take off that coat" he ordered grimly But again Enos gave not the least heed He was through the doorway before the
 deacon could seem to believe the evidence of his own eyes. Then the amazed horror gave way to unmixed wrath
 "You-you son of Belial!' the deacon Wednesdays story. WHAT ROB SAID.