Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1924-02-20
Bread on the
Waters
By JUSTIN WENTWOOD


20, 1928. Western Newspaper Union)
Y TITLE Miss Trueftt was dead.
IL She had been a friend to many in
the small town, particularly to Abb
gail Clackmannon, the Old maid, who
had the bitterest tongue within
range of miles. she had helped Adj
gail in scores of ways, with money
and friendship, and Abigail came
every day, ostensbly as a companion,
actually to do the work of maid, at
good wages.
50 Abigail ought to have loved the
little old lady.
And it was Abigail who discovered
that old Miss Trueftt had passed
away quietly in her sleep the night
before.
Miss Truefitt had come to the town
forty years previously, when it was
only village She had taught school,
opened a little millinery shop, pros
pered and retired. She was the gem
tlest little person anywhere to be
found. Not a kicked cur but knew It
had a friend in her. Not child but
confided secrets to Miss Truetitt that
it kept from its own father and
mother.
But who or what Miss Truefitt had
been before she came to the town no.
body knew. A few had wondered once,
but that was in the long ago.
And Abigail Clackmannon stood, be-
side the bed and saw Miss Truehtt
lying in it, asleep in death,
For moment she was terrified. She
was about to run out and notify the
doctor-there was no telephone in the
house Then she saw that it was too
late. And then-well, she was Abb
gail Clackmannon
Noiselessly, swiftly she set to work
opening the various drawers. There
was a little wooden chest that Miss
Trueftt had always kept locked. and
Abigail had never succeeded in prying
into it. Now, having satisfied her
curiosity as to the drawers, she set
about locating the key.
At last. when she was growing des-
perate, she saw a little key hanging
about Miss Trueftt's neck. Without
hesitation she lifted it off and opened
the chest.
Inside was packet of letters In
faded writing-so faded after their
| forty years that it was with difficulty
| Abigail could make out much of the
writing.
Two hours had passed before she
awOke to the realization Of where she
was. She held in her hand the key to
Miss Trueftts past. She held the
! choicest bit of neighhorhood scandal
that had ever passed from mouth TO
| mouth.
Even after forty years it would be
relshed, for the writer of those letters
was Cyrus HaSkins, the millionaire
whose DEATH the year before, had been
almost an international calamity.
They were written by Haskins in his
! youth, and-Why! The thought leaped
suddenly into Abigails head that size
could blackmail the son with those
letters. For they told Of a secret mar
riage and of a chiId-living or dead,
Abigail had no means of discovering
And that was the past history OF
| little Miss Truetitt, lying so peacefully
asleep there in the bed. Once a wife
and mother, and to the second richest
! man upon the continent
Oh, what a weapon had been placed
| in Abigail's hands AT once a fortune
and an endless themel How people
would crowd to see her!
A ring at the front door bell startled
her. Suddenly she understood how
long she had been in the ROOM What
should she say when she was asked
why she had been 50 long? She would
| have to invent lie.
Another ring. Frantically Abigail
| gathered the letters together and
| slipped them into her gown. She
| locked the wooden chest, placed the
key around Miss Trueftt's neck again,
and hurried downstairs. 1t was the
| butcher
Miss Truefitt's dead!" she cried ~
! just got here and"
The butchers jaw dropped. Dead,
You say Miss Ciackmannon?"
oh, don't stand there and do moth
ing. Give me a ride back to town. We
must get the doctor-not that it's any
Eood-and wait a minute"
She rushed up the stairs again. She
seized the letters in her fingers aud
began desperately tearing them to
shreds. She watched them futter out
of the window.
Il guess l owed her that" she
sighed, as she descended. "Bus--nc-
body'll ever know what could have
told 'em -