Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1905-02-07

Tell bachelor Grips to send in the bag
And bring me the little truck basket,
Mary; L dare say that will hold them.
just in time, they are only just in time.
Tomorrow would have been a day too
late"
The Squire was to pay a guinea for
this bushel of early Oakleaf potatoes,
sort that was warranted to beat the Ash
leaf by a fortnight, and to crop tenfold
as much. The bag had been sent by
the Henley coach from nursery. and
left at the BLACK Horse" in st. Glenn
ent's, to be called for by the Beckley
carrier.
Stay now" cried the Squire; NOW
think of a. we will unpack the bag in
the brewery, Mary. Iney have had
fire there all the morning. And it will
save making any mo- in here Miss
Grace is coming, bless her heartl And
she'll give it to me, if she finds any dirt"
But sir, if you please, Master Cripps
never hurryeth."
well, we don't want Grips. We
only want the bag. Jem will bring il
into the brewery, if you want to sit with
Grips. Cripps is tired, l dare say.
These young mems legs are not fit for
much. Stop-call old Thomas: he's the
best after all. If l want a thing done.
come back TO the old folk after an
"Well, sir. don't think you have any
reason to say that. Howsomever. here
cometh Mr.. Kale. Mr.. Kale, if you
please, you be wanted"
Presently Thomas Kale, the man who
had worked so long in the garden there,
followed his master across the court,
with the bag of potatoes on his back.
The weight was tribe, of course. being
scarcely over half a hundredweight; but
Thomas was too old hand to make too
light of anything.
I've knowed the time" he said, set
ting down the sack on the head of an
empty barrel. when that there weight
would have failed. you might say, to
crook my little finger. Now, make so
bold-do you know the raison?'
why, Thomas. we cannot expect to
be always SO young as we were once,
you know"
"Nout to do wi it. Less nor nout.
The raison lie all in the vittels, mails
ter the vittels is fallen from what they
was"
Thomas, you give me no peace with
your victuals. You must groan to the
cook, not 10 me, about them Now cut
the cord. Why, what has Grips been
aboutT"
The bag was made of stout gray can
vas, not so thick as sackns. and as
the creases of the neck began to open.
under the slackening cord, three or four
red stripes were shown. such as are
sometimes TO be found in the neck of a
leather mail bag. when the postmaster
has been IN a hurry. and dropped his
wax too plenteously. But the stripes in
these creases were not dry and brittle.
as of run sealing wax. but clammy and
damp. as if some thick fluid had oozed
from dripping fingers.
Il don't like the look of it, cried
the old Squire; Grips should be more
careful. he has left the bag down at
his brother the butchers. l am sure
they never sent it out like this Not that
I am of a squeamish order. but still
good heavens, What is this that see:
With scarcely time for his cheeks to
hlsnch. or his firm old hands to tremble
Squire 0glander took from the mouth
of the sack a coil of long, bright golden
hair The brown shade of the potatoes
beneath il set off its glistening beauty
He knew it AT a glance; there was no
such hair in all OxfordShire but his
Gracie's. A piece of paper was rough
ly twisted in and out the shining wreath
This he spread in the hollow of his palm,
and then put on his spectaeleS, and read
by the waning light these words, 'An
you VIII ever see of her.