Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1902-10-20

TENDED by crowd Of boys and village
loafers, had arrived opposite the little
cottage. and the four men who were
perched on it's trunk dismounted and
proceeded to unfasten the chains that
bound it to the wagon. Miss Ellen
strobe out to them. you are not to
bring that thing in here,'' she said
firmly.
The man in charge OF the f1agpole
turned with a grin; but, seeing the ex-
preston of Miss Ellen's face, his grin
died away in a look of astonished per-
pleXity.
What in tunket am to do with it,
them? he demanded. 81 was told to
bring it here
Il don't care what you do with it,
retorted Miss Ellen. "All 1 know is
it isn't coming in here"
Its paid for" protested the man as
a final shot.
At this juncture Miss Jane Partridge
came stalking majestically down the
little side path. She had borne with
her sisters petulance-even as she used
to when they were children-just long
enough to be assured that it was of the
1nfeXible sort. 1t was now time for the
elder sister to act. She brushed Miss
Ellen aside and laid her hand on the
pole.
Il ordered it." she said. 81 paid for
it, and 1 paid for it's settin' up You
may bring it in and set it where l show
you"
Miss Ellen turned abruptly and went
into the house. She climbed to the gar
ret and got the large brown satchel
that her father had owned. Then she
gathered together q few articles of
clothing and the dearest of her own
special treasures and keepsakes and
put them into the bag. This done, she
marched out of the front door, satchel
in hand, and started for the village
depot. Miss Jane was in the back
yard experimenting the erection of the
fagpole and did not notice her sisters
departure.
Miss Ellen reached the depot and sat
down in the vacant ladies' waiting
room. She had not the slightest idea
where she was going. There was no
her sisters tyranny. She thought that
she would take the first train in either
direction and travel until evening.
Then she would stop at some hotel and
spend the night. After nights sleep
perhaps she would know what to do.
1t was late in the forenoon when
Miss Ellen reached the depot. The sta
n I,a6 10 1t
office was locked up. Noon came, then
half past II, and still no train and no
station agent. Miss Ellen fastened her
distracted mind upon the situation and
presently remembered that no train
stopped at Lyndonville between II
O'Clock a. m. and half past p. m.
What would the station agent think
when he came back and found her
there?
She went to the window and looked
back up the hill toward the village.
Between Putnam's blacksmith shop
and the store she could just see on the
other side of the village street the low
ly roof of the cottage where she and
her sister had dwelt for forty years.
Something white and slender was Just
wavering up behind it. 1t rose higher
and higher and finally stood firm and
straight, and Miss Ellen saw that it
was the top of the new fiagpoe. Jane,
then, was still busy with her triumph.
She had not discovered her sisters de-
parture, or perhaps she did not care.
Miss Ellen went back to her seat
with tears in her eyes. From where
she sat she could look into the ticket
office through the locked glass window,
and on the wall facing her she saw a
steel engraving of Abraham Lincoln.
How wildly it brought up the days Of
the civil war, when her younger broth
er had marched away with the first
regiment of Vermont volunteers! The
tears rained faster down her cheeks
as the flood of memory swept her far
Their and farther away from her own
petty grievance. She remembered the
crushing news from the front; the
bringing home of her brothers dear.
torn body; the picture of Abraham
Lincoln which they found hidden in
his bosom; the funeral in the village
church, with the picture of Lincoln.
wreathed in flowers, lying on the dead
soldiers breast, and around him and
the martyr president were wrapped the
folds of the stars and stripes!
Again Miss Ellen rose and went to
the window. A cheer swept family
down the hill. There was q flag flying
from the new fagpole over the cot
tage. PatriOtiSm--had she none of il
in her loyal heart. and she the sister
OF such patriot as the soldier boy
who slept under the faded Memorial
day flag in the village cemetery?
With sob Miss Ellen caught up her
satchel and breasted the hill. Jane
was right" she whispered 81 am glad
she got the fiagpole and the flag. Dear
Robert! 1t was my flag raising too.
If hearts feeling counts for anything.