The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1912-07-23

THE FIGURES 1912
almanac with his hand. woman,
what does it say here, huh?"
1T says Tuesday, Jan. 49," admit
ted Lucy
"Of course it doesl Then what's the
matter with you, huhY
you've got the wrong almanac,
Timothy" Lucy declared in a fright
ened whisper
Timothy stared at his wife, then
glared at the almanac in his hand and
saw that it was true. He held last
years almanac. But Timothy was a
Barton. He would not give In that he
had made mistake-oh, no-now that
Lucy had called his attention to the
fact If she had said nothing, but
quietly permitted him to celebrate her
natal anniversary on any date he
chose out of the calendar and he had
found out the mistake afterward, all
would have been well.
But Lucy had spoken.
1.-THE fat was In the fire." to quote
Little River folks.
Timothy Barton obstinately contend
ed in the face of the almanac makers
Of the world that he was right He
swore up and down that the 1911 cal
endar was the proper one for this
year.
"Ain't you going to church, limo
thyT" asked Lucy on the following
Sunday morning, for after breakfast
he had taken down his overcoat and
cap and wound his everyday muller
around his neck.
Timothy stared aggresslvely at her
Il didn't know there was church on
Saturday." he grunted as he pulled
on his mittens. Seen anything of my
bush scythe? l left it in the entry
last night
Lucy stared at him with frightened
eyes. Timothy Barton, what are you
going to do?" she demanded
"Going to clear out the underbrush
in the south woods" he said defiantly
"On Sunday?
"'Tain't Sunday" retorted Timothy
obstinately
You know better than that, limo
thy" she walled When are you 60
ing to church if you don't go today?
Pm going tomorrow-on Sundayp
he retorted. pointing to the last years
calendar hanging on the wall
There won't be any church tomor-
row, and you know it"
Its not my fault I'll go, and If 1t
amt open it's the fault of them whose
business 1t Is to look after such thingsr
Timothy ratified the doorknob impa-
tiently. "Seen that bush scythe. Lucy?'
be repeated
Lucy arose and looked her husband
In the eyes. Yes, Timothy Barton, !
saw your bush scythe. saw you
clean it off and hang it up in the tool
shed last night the same way you do
every Saturday night"'
Timothy WINGED and colored, but his
lips set firmly.
"Are you going to church this morn
ingT" demanded Lucy sternly.
81 don't go to church on Saturday."
said Timothy. quite contemptuously.
anu SO leII the mousse.
He was actually going to cut brush
wood on the Sabbath
Two red spots fickered in Lucy's
cheeks as she disposed of the Sunday
morning tasks. Her hands trembled
as she put on her hat and slipped into
the fur coat which had been her hus-
bands wedding gift four years ago.
for Lucy had always been a submis-
sive wife and had never before had
occasion to cross the famous Barton
temper
She went to church alone She was
glad that her husband had the for
bearance to do his Sabbath breaking
in the solitude of the woods and not
In the face of all Little River.
How was she to explain his absence
from church? He might contradict
whatever excuse she might make up.
She was in a quandary what to do
At least she could go and come so
hastily that none might intercept her.
And she did. But the people spoke
of 1t afterward-howL Lucy Barton had
been late at church and had run away
from it before anybody had chance
to say how do you do They wondered
where Timothy was, but they ceased
to wonder when some one reported
that Timothy had been observed cut
ting brush while the church bells were
ringing.
On Monday Timothy dressed himself
in his Sabbath clothes and walked
sedately to church, creating no little
excitement as he passed along the vii
lage street
Somebody must be dead-there's
Timothy Barton all dressed In his best
blackw cried one.
"'Tain't Lucy, for I saw her hang
ing out her wash" observed another.
Hes gone into the churchyard. and
/ declare to man If he amt going
into church or trying tor Curious
faces peered over clotheslines and
from window corners as Timothy
Barton creaked up the steps Of the