Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1916-02-02

looked HnSef1ngly ABOUT the Dank-lln-
geringly and fondly, Uncle BushrOd
thought, as one who bids farewell to
dear and familiar scenes
Now he caught up his burden again
and moved promptly and softly out of
the bank by the way he had come,
locking the front door behind him.
For minute or longer Uncle Bush
rod was as stone in his tracks Had
that midnight rifier of safes and vaults
been any other on earth than the man
he was the old retainer would have
rushed upon him and struck to save
the Weymouth property. But now the
watchers soul was tortured by the
poignant dread of something worse
than mere robbery. He was seized by
an accusing terror that said the Wey-
mouth name and the Weymouth hon.
OF were about to be lost. Marse Rob.
ert robbing the bank! What else could
it mean? The hour of the night, the
stealthy visit to the vault, the satchel
brought forth full and with expedition
and silence, the providers rough dress.
his solicitous reading of the clock and
noiseless departure-what else could it
mean?
And then to the turmoil of Uncle
BushrOd's thoughts came the cOrrOb-
Grating recollection of preceding events
Mr.. Roberts increasing intemperance
and consequent many moods of royal
high spirits and stern tempers; the
casual talk he had heard in the bank
of the decrease in business and diff
Guilty in collecting loans. What else
could it all mean but that Robert Wey-
mouth was an abscOnder-Was about
to fly with the banks remaining funds,
leaving Mr. William, Miss Lefty, little
Nan, Guy and Uncle Bushrod to bea1
the disgrace?
During one minute Uncle Bushrod
considered these things, and then he
avoke to sudden determination and
action.
"Lawd, Lawdv' he moaned aloud as
he hobbled hastily toward the side door.
"Sech a comeoff after all desc here
years of big dOin's and fine doin's.
Scan'lous sights upon de yearth when
de Weymouth family done turn out
robbers and 'bezzlers! Time for Uncle
Bushrod to clean out somebody's chick
en- coop and chen matters up. oh,
Lawd! Marse Robert, you amt gwine
do dat. N Miss Lefty an dem chillun
so proud and talkin' Weymouth, Wey-
MOUTH all de time! I'm gwine to stop
you eff can. Spec you shoot Mr.. Mig
gers head off eff he fool wild you, but
Pm gwine stop you eff I can"
Uncle Bushrod, aided by his hickory
stick, impeded by his rheumatism, hur.
ried down the street toward the rail-
road station, where the two lines touch
ing Weymouthville met. AS he had ex-
pected and feared, he saw there Mr..
Robert standing in the shadow of the
building waiting for the train. He held
the satchel in his hand.
When Uncle Bushrod came within
twenty yards of the bank president,
standing like huge, gray ghost by the
station wall, sudden perturbation seiz-
ed him. The rashness and audacity Of
the thing he had come to do struck him
fully. He would have been happy
could he have turned and fed from
the possibilities of the famous Wey-
I mouth wrath. But again he saw, in
his fancy, the white, reproachful face
of Miss Lefty and the distressed looks
of Nan and Guy should he fail in his
! duty and they question him as to his
| stewardship.
Braced by the thought, he approached
IN straight line, clearing his throat
and pounding with his stick so that he
might be early recognized. Thus he
might avoid the likely danger of toe
suddenly surprising the sometimes has
| ty Mr.. Robert. "
is that you, Bushrod?" called the
CLAIMANT, cleSr voice of the gray ghost
Yes, sub, Marse Robert
What the devil are you doing out a
his time of night?"
For the first time in his life Uncl,
Bushrod told Marse Robert a false
hood. He could not repress it. II,
would have to circumlocute a little
His nerve was not equal to direct at
tack
Il done been down, sub, to see oil
Aunt Mira Patterson. She taken sicl
in de night, and 1 kyar'ed her a bottl
of M'lindy's medercine Yes, subj"
"Humph!' said Robert. you bette
get home out of the night air. It.
damp. You'll hardly be worth killing
tomorrow on account of your rheuma
tism. Think it'll be clear day, Bush
rod"
81 low it will, sub. De sun sot re-
las night
Mr.. Robert lit cigar in the shadow
and the smoke looked like his gra
I ghost expanding and escaping into tn
night air. Somehow Uncle Bushro
could barely force his reluctant tongu
to the dreadful subject. He stood
awkward, shambling, with his fee
upon the gravel and fumbling with hi
stick. But then, afar off-three mile
q away, at the Jimtown switch-he hear
q the faint whistle Of the coming trai1