Year: 1875

| 1WOnG De no Joke II jim entOn
| goes away from this house feeling
| that the only woman he ever seen
that he thought was wuth row of
pins feels herself better nor he is


Miss Butterworth cast do gn her
eyes and trotted her knees nervously.
She felt that Jim was really in earn
est-that he Thoroughly respected her
and that behind his rough exterior
there was as true man as she had
ever seen; but the life to which he
would introduce her, the gossip to
which she would be subjected by
any intimate connection with him,
and the uprooting of the active, So
cial life into which the routine of
her daily labor led her, would be a
great hardship. Then there was an
other consideration which weighed
heavily with her. In her room were
the memorials of an early affection
and the disappointment of a life.


'Mr. Fenton,' she said looking
up


Jest call me Jim


well, Jim'-and Miss Butter
worth smiled through fearful eyes
4 must tell you that was once en-
gagged to be married,


'Sho! you don't say sop


yes, and the only man Lever low
ed died-died a week before the day
we had set


1t must have pretty near finished
ye off,


'Yes, l should have been glad to
have died myself


well, now, Miss Butterworth, if
you s'pose that Jim Fenton wouldn't
bring that man to life if he could,
and 60 to your wedding singing hal
elujer, you must think he's meaner
nor rat. But ye know he's dead,
and We never can see him no more
He's a goner, and yer all alone, and
here's man that'll take care on ye
fur him; and it does seem to man that
if he was reasonable man, he'd feel
obliged for what Pm doing.


Miss Butterworth could not help
smiling at Jim's earnestness and in
genuity, but his proposition was so
sudden and strange, and she had so
long ago given up any thought of
marrying, that it was impossible for
her to give him an answer then, un-
less she should give him the answer
which he deprecated.


'Jim,' she said at last, 4 believe
you are good man. believe you
are honorable, and that you mean
well toward me; but we have been
brought up very differently, and the
life into which you wish to bring
me would be very strange to me. L
doubt whether l could be happy in
it.


Jim saw that it would not help
him to press his suit further at that
time, and recognized the reasonable
ness of her hesitation. He knew he
was rough and unused to every sort
of refinement; but he also knew that
he was truthful, and honorable, and
faithful; and with trust in his own
motives and trust in Miss Butter
worth's good sense and discretion,
he withheld any further exhibition
of his wish to settle the affair on the
spot.


rsWell, Miss Butterworth,' he said,
rising, sye know yer own business,
but there'll be house and stoop,
and a bureau, and a little ladder for
flowers, and Mike Conhn will draw
the lumber, and Benedict will put
it together and Jim Fenton'll be the
busiest and the happiest man in a
hundred mile


As Jim rose, Miss Butterworth al
so stood up, and looked up into his
face. Jim regarded her with tender
admiration.


DO you know take to little things
wonderfully, if5they're only alive?'
said he. There's Benedict's little
boy! / feel i'm for hours arter Pve
had i'm in my arms, jest because he's
alive and little, And / don't know
IL vow, 1 guess better go
away. Can you git the clo'es made |
in two days, so can take 'em home !
with me? Can't you put 'em out |
round! I'll pay ye, We know


Miss Butterworth thought she |
could, and on that promise Jim re-
mained at Sevenoaks. sd


How he got out of the house he
did not remember, but he went his
way very much exalted. What he
did during those two days it did not
matter to him, so long as he could
walk over to Miss Butterworth's
each night, and watch her light from
his cover IN the trees.


Before the tailoress closed her
eyes in sleep that night, her brisk
and ready shears had the cloth for
the two suits at venture, and in the
morning the work was parceled
among her benevolent friends as
work of charity whose object was
not to be mentioned.


When Jim called for the clothes,
they were done, and there was no
money to be paid for tie labor. The
statement of the fact embarrassed
jim more than anything else that
had occurred in his interviews with
the tailoress.


q shall pay We sometime, even if SO
be that nothing happens, said he;
and if so be that something does hap
pen, it'll be squar' anyway. don't
want no man that l do fur to be be-
holden to working women for their
clo'es.'


Jim took the big bundle under his
left arm, and extending his right
hand took Miss Butterworth's, and
said: Goodbye, little woman; I
shall see We agin;, and here's hopin'.
Don't hurt yourself, and think aS
well of me as you can. Lhate TO go
away an leave everything loose ike,
but suppose must. Yes, don't
like to go away, so'---and Jim shook
his head tenderly-'and arter I go We
mustn't kick stone on the road or
scare bird in the trees, for fear it.
III be the heart that Jim Fentom
leaves behind him.