Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1902-07-01

ewes on the notes and his mind on
/ Miss Grayson He was hard hit There
was no doubt of that. At twenty-six
he was likely to 90 the way that had
sAldon been trod by Newberrv bach
elor until twice twenty-six years had
been I.assed in this vale.
| After prayer meeting he walked home
| alone and sank into mahogany chair
that had been a Newberry possession
for 200 years. His thoughts were not
Of furniture, however, but Of form
and q face that would have made q
kitchen chair look like piece Of Chip.
pendale.
He sIaoked his pipe out, and then he
retired. but not to sleep. His thoughts
were with Miss Grayson, who even
now was returning from Newington
That much he knew because he had
heard Mrs. Dibble tell Mrs. Harding,
| with whom the schoolteacher boarded
that she thought it was shocking for
her to come back on Sunday instead of
making an early start on Monday
morning.
| 1t lacked some minutes Of 10 O'Clock
when TrueL.in heard a commotion out
side of his window. He sprang from
his bed and looked out The moon was
at the full. and diaphanous cloud was
coQuetting with it, but his eye did not
take in the beauty of the scene. All
that lie saw were the two mischief
makers, the Goodwin oxen, walking
around in his bed of dahlias. They had
already rolled on his asters and had
torn down the beautiful wild cucum.
Der vines that covered the southern
wall of his house and had lessened by
half the pile of "pounder" apples that
lie had purposed shipping to his mar.
| ried sister In New York for old times
sake.
Clad in his white cotton nightshirt
and with the red carpet slippers Oh his
feet that always stood at his bedside,
ready for instant use. this bachelor
leaped down the front stairs and pick.
ed up us a weapon the first thing that
came to hand. which happened to be Il
feather duster that had belonged to his
grandmother and that had been molt
ing any time these fifty years.
He opened the front door brandish
ing this terrible bludgeon. and the oxen
glanced mildly at him and then ambled
through his sweet pea hedge. carrying
off garlandS of flowers on their broad
horns. Then as he pursued they punch.
cd holes in his well kept lawn. marking
their easy progress to the street. where
they stopped and looked over their
shoulders and seemed to smile at him.
This so enraged him that he deter
mined to chase them down the road as
far as he could. He forgot his scanty
clothing. forgot everything but the fact
that these vexatous beasts had ruined
his garden and had then added insult
to injury by grinning at him. He might
have driven them into the Goodwin lot
that lay across the way. but the fence
was newly torn. and 1t would have been
foolish to try penning them up for the
night. They were out for Il lark. and
he would help them to one. only II
should not be at his further expense.
So he hurled the duster at them and
hit the nigh one umidShipS. The great
animal made playful pass with his
hind legs and knocked potted fuchsa
off a stump with the ease of Il pre-
miere danseuse.
Trucman seized the broken pieces OF
the pot and hurled them at the wicked
pair. and both were hit on the head
And then the race began. With tossing
road. He recovered his treasured feath
er duster and sprinted after them. his
drapery streaming in the wind. his red
slippers slapping his heels rhythmicalll
with each stride. and the feather dustrl
gyrating in the air like drum majors
baton. Once he fell and married the
snowy whiteness Of his toga. but a
jump and shake and plunge for
gained the space he had lost by falling.
and once more the feathered dart hur
tied through the air In manner sug'
gestive of bullfights. although It fell
short Of it's mark.
He had not thought that oxen could
be so feet. but their feetness would
but serve to put lengthy distance be-
tween them and his grounds. He would
chase them to Canton II need be. but
they should not again disturb his noe
turnal musings or cry havoc and lei
slip the dogs of war in his garden.
AS they crossed Tibball's bridge he
dropped q slipper. He picked il up lt
hurl at the oxen: but. true to its name
1t slipped from his fingers and went fai
astream. And that slipper had first be
longed to his grandfather!
The oxen were not in the least blown,
but he was. in every sense Of the word,
and his hair looked like field OF rye
through which cyclone had passed.
The night winds toyed with his linen
garment. and the stones In the road
hurt his slipperless foot. 1t had been
fifteen years since be had gone bare
foot. But to stop before his work was
done was not like Newberry. The
churchyard was not far away. and he
would not leave them until they were
safe behind the high stone walls and
sly barred gate Of the sanctuary OF the
dead. They could restore some OF the
moss covered inscriptions on the tombs
with their horns or scratch new ones
Yor all he cared, but they would not
trouble him again that night.
On sped the strange trio, the red
oxen and the man in white. past the
Bulkcleys. past the Days. past the
Traintors. past the Goodspeeds. past
the Bills; then sharp turn to the left,
and they were in the lane that led to
the graveyard. BY some lucky chance
the cemetery gate was open. and. with
final hurting Of the innocuous feather
duster and volley Of small stones al
most as harmless. he drove the bovine
marplots into the graveyard, closed the
gate securely and retraced his steps to
the highway.
He now for the first time realized
| that he was full half mile from
home, and. while 1t was night and he
was clad in the garments of the night
season. still South Hanaford society
would not have received him in such
habiliments
Rut fortune favored him, inasmuch