The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1902-06-19
> A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A.A,A.A
! WHEN BY CICELY
! ALLEN
j; THE BONDS
WERE LOOSED
Copyright, 1909, bp the
s. S. Mcclure Company

where did you get that arbutus SO ear
~ in the season?" And Miss Jane
Prentice dropped the broom with
which she had been diligently scrub
bling her narrow flagwalk and leaned
across the gate, her eyes alight with
pleasure.
Down to fuckers woods. There's
lots of 1t on the other side of the
creek" The little girl paused. finger
ing the rough stems and thick leaves
nervously. Here's little, Miss Prem
uce, and I'd give you more only got
1t for teacher. l promised IL to her
yesterday"
The child offered few short stalks
crowned with the waxlike. fragrant
pink blossoms Miss Prentice pressed
them to her face.
my, they do smell nice and woodsy,
Melia, and I'm mighty obliged to
you. If you stop here on your way
home, I'll have something nice for you
sure, perhaps little iced cake"
When the girl had shyly spoken her
thanks and taken herself off toward
the schoohouse, Jane Prentice stood
for few moments, apparently study
ing the pale pink flowers In her hands.
In reality peculiar upheaval was
under way, mental and moral. For the
first time In her life Miss Prentice,
aged forty-two, was seriously contem-
i plating a deviation from the straight
and narrow pathway, more than that,
the thorn hedged, rigid path of domes-
tic tyranny
She could look back to her days in
pinafores when the woods called her
and domestic duties held her fast,
when the birds of the air, the fishes in
the stream, had a lesson for her which
she longed to learn. Yet ever between
her and them stood the stern, unyied-
Ing mother, to whom daily household
duties and certain stints for girlish
fingers were as the laws of the Modes
and the Persians. Every year the call
had come to her with the advent of
spring, and every year duty as repre-
scented by her mother had interviewed.
| There had been the walks and the
porches to scrub each day, the furni-
ture to polish (oh, how she had learned
to hate the moist, limp chamois skin
with which she weekly polished the
mahogany table and whatnot in the
front room, the sheets to be turned
and reseamed and the stocking bag
that seemed never to be entirely empty
Mrs. Prentice had meant to do we'll
by her eldest daughter in thus molding
her into housewifely, forehanded hab-
its, and 1t had been grievous dis
appointment to her when Jane had re-
fused one matrimonial offer after an
other from men who recognized her
worth as housewife and homemak-
er. And perhaps that was why the girl
refused them all-she had no desire to
change taskmasters. In vague way
she was waiting for her day of enamel
patton, but the children one after the
other had married and settled in neigh
boring towns, until Mrs. Prentice and
her elder daughter were left alone
Thea the busy mother had died sud
denly, falling with heart disease in
front of a cupboard where she had
been searching for impossible cobwebs.
But years of rigid performance of du-
ties had left Miss Jane too weak to
break the bonds at once, and even as
she stood in the narrow walk. with the
gentle spring sunlight thrilling her, and
the birds twittering in the cherry tree
near the well, and the waXen flowers
in her hands cajoling, tempting her,
she hesitated. The morning work in
the kitchen was not done Dishes stood
unwashed, and the flags stretching
10 10
scrubbed. but the voice of the woods
spoke to her again, and with a reso-
lutte closing of her lips she snatched
up her pail and broom and fed to the
house.
There she hastily packed a frugal
lunch, picked up a trowel and an old
fashioned egg basket and went her
way rejoicing. not, however without
carefully drawing every shade and
locking every door lest some inquisi
tive caller might learn her secret and
tell the tale of her base desertion of
the household gods.
Once in the heart of fuckers woods
she forgot all else 1t was "woodsy,"
sweet, moist, earthly. Close to some of
the rotten tree trunks snow still linger-
ed, and she brushed 1t aside with eager
hands, searching for the rare and deli |
cate arbutus blooms When she had
filled her basket with specimens of
moss. delicate lichens and quantities of
arbutus, she sighed happily and looked
across the creek. She remembered a
hollow to which she had stolen many
springs before, where Jack in the pull !
pits reared their dignified heads and
modest anemones bloomed. She won
dered If that fallen tree trunk would
not be very pleasant place on which
to spread her lunch. With all the whim-
sicality Of child living out fairy tale
she fairly skipped across the stream
and plunged through the underground
into the sunlt glade.
Yes; there lay the old log, all moss
grown, with fern stalks clustered
around 1t. She spread out her inviting
lunch: then. with a laugh almost girl
ish, she piled some arbutus in the cen
ter as If to grace her woodland feast.
She was biting into a tasty sandwich
when q sound in the brush behind her
made her whirl round. She gave a
slight scream and turned white to her
lips. Something long and sinuous and
striped something with glittering blue
eyes, seemed to be crawling straight
toward her Now thp bushes Dortpd