Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1901-07-16

The deacon suddenly started up and
thnmped his fist hard upon the table
"Them Lowdens will get to prison
yetw he burst out with indignation
"'Twould be true religious act to sci
their cussed dram shop on fire! I'd dc
1t, too, if"-
Mrs. Birdsell reached across the Ia
BILE to place a restraining hand upon
her husbands arm, but the tips Of her
fingers barely touched his shirt sleeve
"William," she said In more com
posed tone, 1--WE mustn't get excited
What we must do is to tend to Joel's
case. The Lord that judges between
the righteous an the unrighteous will
tend to the Lowdens himself"
Before such an undeniable exposition
of truth the farmers anger slowly sub
sided.
"You know the time Joel washed the
buggy an went to town. Mrs. Birdsell
went on. "He didn't get back that
night till a quarter past IL, an he took
his boots off before he come into the
house. l know all about 1t because he
clean forgot 'em an left 'em on the
porch"
"You wouldn't call them things boots
would you" The deacon threw his
whole available fund Of sarcasm into
the words.
"Gaiters, I mean," corrected Mrs
Birdsell quickly. IAN that's another
thing. Just to think Of a man takin to
CATERS after boots has been good
enough for him for so years! It's q
sure sign. William"
ayes, mother, that's the long an the
short Of 1t. Caters may be a small
thing in themselves, but in JoePs case
they help powerful to show what fast
livin an strong drink will do once g
man gets goin in the wrong way"
The deacon started suddenly at the
meaning of his own words. A spade
had finally been called a spade. Mrs
Birdsell straightway began to sob au'
dibly, while her husband searched alb.
stractedly for his handkerchief, which
he finally produced from the armhole
Of his vest.
Joel Birdsell filed the place Of son
not only in the hearts but in the home
of the deacon and his wife. Back In
the fifties, when heavy timber still COW
cred what is now the rich, rolling farm
land Of lower Michigan, William Bird.
sell had gone forth from the circum'
scribed acres Of the homestead in Yer.
mont to win a place for himself in the
world, with only young wife and his
own grit to aid him. Then Michigan
was not the farmers Ell Dorado 1t aft.
erward came to be. But the house In
which he still lived was built, and then
Joel, the next younger by three years.
was sent for to share the increasing
fol tunes, incidentally to lend helping
hand in the running Of the farm.
And Joel, he was shining example
of New England stagnation. Never in
clined to marry. always content with q
kind or helpless dependence upon his
brother and sister, whose home had not
been frightened by the advent Of chill
dren, he grew more and more to be the
object Of parental solicitude to the
farmer and his wife as the years
passed by. He was satisfied with his
unique position, and gradually the hori-
zon of his life came to be bounded by
| the views and wishes Of his foster par
ents.
Mrs. Blrdsell was the first to break
the oppressive silence. "William," she
said, there's no use putin 1t of any
longer. Suppose we call Joel down now
this very night-an point out to him
like-tell him-that Is to say, ask
HIM She hesitated. The task seem
ed greater when framed in words.
"Shw The exclamation escaped the
pair at the same instant.
In the chamber above the song began
again. This time the words were loud
and distinct, although the tune was
still doubtful. Silently the couple fol.
lowed the lines:
dreamt that dwelt in marble halls
Not a word was uttered until the
verse ended. Mrs. Birdsell was busy
making q mental analysis Of the mean,
ing of the words. Their import seemed
beyond doubt.
"Its q real gamblin house tune" she
pronounced, with assurance born OF
conviction, although there was a trem.
bling in her voice. give heard all
about the Internal places; all marble an
glass an electric lights an polished
woodwork"
The squeaking, heavy footsteps grew
louder. The culprit was certainly com
ing down the stairs. Next the dool
opened, and he walked into the dining
room. Mrs. Birdsell looked straight In
front of her. The deacon hastily snatch
ed The Agriculturlst from the table.
Joel appeared surprised to find the
rest of the family keeping late hours
"Still settin upl" he asked innocentlJ
enough, but in the ears Of the otherf
the words had guilty ring.
From the corners Of her eyes Mrs
Birdsell was taking quiet inventory
Of discriminating evidence. There wal
the red necktie encircling the stand ul
collar that sagged out in tired fashion
at the front. The long tailed coat wa
also conspicuous. She wished she hat
had the forethought to put on he
spectacles, for she knew that prope
scrutiny would detect faint creases Il
front of the bagging gray pants. a
for the shoes, the noise on the stair
had already told Its own story.
"Well, guess I'll walk out for q III
tie Bit" he went on, taking no motto
of the unusual restraint. "The sky
as clear as a bell, an it seems JUS
shameful to stay in. Won't have man
more nights like this"
"It's time honest folks was abed a.
asleep" The deacon's voice CRATE
harshly, although he tried his best t
be natural.
"That's just one Of your notions
William" Joel answered, with fain
laugh. "Come now, nights just q
good as day. amt it? Don't fret abor
me. Just leave the key to the DIM
room door under the stone by tn
steps, an I'll get In all right"
There was no reply.
can that reminds me-" the culprl
l onk m atbo ,ayt ffrnp I QO tO tow