NO WORD UNTIL.

Bruce Herald, Volume XXXX, Issue 98, 23 December 1904, Page 2

NO WORD UNTIL.

r | A Stofj of Befora and After i tanas Wedding. SY OCTAVB Tfl«l»HT. LCopyright, 1891, by the Authors' Alliance. All Bights Reserved.] **** CHAPTER L .*""' There was always the prairie. To every point of the compass the prairie. No trees, unless you count the scanty two-year-ojd growth of poplars in front of the Rogers' house, or the three wee peach trees by the well, not one of them more than a shrub! For* the rest, everywhere and always, the prairie; beautiful in early summer, when it is a tender green sea, rippling and shimmering in the sun; terrible in the autumns, sometimes; because it may become only a bellowing,cruel ocean of fire, desolate and dust-swept in the dry winters, monotonous and unutterably lonely all the year. No hill, no water, nothing to break the horizontal lines that grew to vex the eye with their sameness, except the jagged ripple made by the roofs of the distant village and, nearer, the low buildings of Hon. Seth Rogers* farm. The farmhouses and barns, the fences and plowed fields had an agreeable trimness of outline. There were no breaks in the fences or sagging rails, the buildings were of wood and the house had been painted. True, the color was a bluish drab with no relief of trimmings, blinds and all being" drab; but this lack of variety need not be imputed to the taste of the owner, but was far more likely to represent simply the meager ness of the stock of paints in the village store. There were a few sharp-backed cattle nibbling at the first spring grass in the back yard, and some pigs sleeping in the sun. Three gera*niums in round tin cans made a splash of color in one window. There was a box of plants in the other window, downstairs, on that side of the house. Crawling across the prairie, headed •ov.-anls the farm, came a dusty farm vi Ton drawn by two .dusty horses and Hiding- two dusty women. Any obrver could have told that the younger i these was a gentlewoman; as plainly, ohc was a JJew England woman. She was thin and very straight and wore yeglasses. Her gray traveling gown, in spite of the dust, gave her the air of i person accustomed to be both immaculately and appropriately garbed. Her gloves were fresh. One small foot Lrom which the old shawl used as a duster had slipped, showed a gaiter exactly matching her # <jown, and a flat, low heel. ■ • '•• There was about her a certain prim ness and decision that distracted one's ittention at first from her striking dis.inetion anjl a charm of looks that wail most beauty. She sat, unconscious y, as far as the seat would permit her *rom good Mrs. Armil, who drove. But, all the same, she had a substantial regard, for the countrywoman, vliom she had, for two years, supplied tvith good moral and entertaining literature* as the secretary of a "Post Office Misfeion." In fact, she was en during dust and a hot Kansas sun in this particular part of the state, rather than some other, because of her interest in Mrs. Armil. Having been within an hour's ride by rail of the little town that was Mrs. Armil's post office, she had come, the evening before, to the village inn and having visited Mrs. Armil for an hour or two (discovering in that time all that the most curious post office mission could care to learn of her history and condition) she was now conscientiously looking up the destitution of Kansas for the congregation's benevolence. Mrs. Armil thought her a "mighty cur'us lady," but Mrs. Armil was from the south and took things easily without diving uncomfortably for the reason of moral puzzles. As she sat on the seat by Rev. Elinor Brainerd, she felt peacefully at ease in her best frock that "the dusl wouldn't stick to, noways!" Her broad back was inclined at an oblique angli from the minister's erect spine. Sh( rested her elbows on her knees, whih the reins flabbed gently with every joj

"Teß, MA'AM, WE ARE PRETTY BAD OFF." of the horses' trot. She was a largo woman, tall as well as stout, and, with the fatality of taste to be expected as surely of a person of her build and habits as a fondness for cream, she had decked her massive comeliness in a satine gown of azure blue besprinklcu with huge white nosegays. The village storekeeper had assured her that this startling fabric was the "very latest thing in Kansas City." She always wore it with the consciousness that in it, at least, she could defy the eye of fashion. To the storekeeper's clerk she owed the steeple-crowned hat trimmed in a profusion of flowers and green leaves, that surmounted her large, fair face. Emil, her son — she was a widor. had given her the brooch of tripkplate glittering at her throat, and in ■ honor of her guest she carried, besides the useful cotton square with which she 1 mopped her face or dusted off her gown* a fine embroidered handkerchief that came from Emil's wife, f Quite satisfied, therefore, she rattW tlioreins.at the horses and discount on the mijiortuays of the country. •

"Well, yes, ma'am, we are pretty bad off," she said, continuing 1 the conversation, "and I was right glad to be able to give round that box you all sent, 1 was so! ' I gave a heap of the tea to the sick ones — well, t guess the only well ones got any ;was old lady Turny ard, who's bedridden, so really you can't jest call her well and she ain't had any tea since Washington's birthday, and did set sech store by it, she reglerly cried when 1 gave it to her; and Hetty Armil — she was kinder punying round, didn't ' know what ailed her, but I reckon she ben working too hard, she's the greatest one to work I ever did see! If Scth Rogers only had her horse sense and would Work her way they wouldn't have a mortgage overdue like they got, no, sir!" Miss Brainerd struck into the stream of reminiscence on which Mrs. Armil seemed to be embarked for an indefinite journey: "Mr. Rogers is a member of the legislature, isn't he?" "Yes, he is, and redhot for every fool law that will make bad corrie to wuss; you see Seth, he's a real nice man, but he's one of them that reads a heap of things in books and thinks everything , that's printed must be true; and he's got a notion that laws run theirselves, , which ain't my experience. But I reek- ; on sence he got up to the legislature he's found out every farmer's alliance man ain't an angel jes' fresh let out of Heaven, like he 'lowed they was to first, i He's got a sorter obstinate streak in him, too — 'tain 'tall Hetty's fault thoug-h I ain't excusing of her. I told her plain out what I thought of her. 'If you got a righteous grudge agin Seth Rogers,' says I, 'why don't you divide up, honest, and part? That's fair and decent,' says I; 'but this living in the same house with a man person and never parting, lips to him, not so much as a howdy

when he comes back home or 'Wish ye

"ABE YOU ALL DOME TAXKHTO?" well' when he goes away— l call it scandilous — " "Then she hasn't ifcuch to say to her husband?" asked Miss Brainerd, feeling more interested. "Much to say!" screamed Mrs. Armil. "Law, me! Why, she ain't spoke a mortal word to him for more'n ten years. That boy of hers, Leon, ain't never heard his mother speak to his father." "Do you mean that literally, Mrs. Armil? Not a word!" "Not a word? Ain't it owdacious? It would make my blood run cold to live that way for a week. I told Hetty, says I: 'Armil wouldn't put up with sech foolin'.' That's my husband; a real nice man, but a German, and liked his own way. He had the same pretty blue eyes like Emil, and a sorter sulky streak pintblank like Emil, too. But Seth, he's terrible patient and he sets the world and all by Hetty — always did; and they do get on better than you'd think they could; she cooks everything his way, and furnished the. house with her own money jest to please him. He's a great hand for readin' in books about things and he paints beautiful — he painted their rooms inside, but Hetty painted the outside. She's a splendid farmer, too, and can plow and plant better than a man; yes, he would pintedly be a fool to mad Hetty! So, somehow, they get on; when they want anything they talk it out to Leon. He's a terrible bright boy, got a awful big mouth, see it coming round to his ears from the back of him, when he begins to smile; but he is jest as good as gold and is on to fractions in the 'nthmetic. If netty wants to know anything she tells Leon, and he asks his paw, and Seth the same way with her; and there is advantages; he never gets a harsh word from her. But law, me, it's the funniest sight I ever did-see, him and her a-talking — " "Talking?" . "Yes, ma'am, to Leon. He sets atween them, and first she says: 'Leon, I'm mighty jubious 'bout this trying to turn the whole world upside down, 'cause we all don't have the money to pay our honest debts: for that's what it comes to,' says she. 'Perhaps the Lord made the world in seven days,' says she, 'but we can't make it over so briefly.' 'Leon.' says he,. 'those Eastern land sharks and the money power (and he slings out a lot of fine woi-ds like he gits out of books — I disremem- - ber them) tbey are going to skin us,' and so it goes on, first and last, Leon never opening his head; only when he gete right tired he sometimes does say: *Paw and maw, are you all done talking?' and gits off that way." "But what do they do when they are ill, any of them?" "111? be ain't a oit ill to her or to him; it's the peacefulest family you ever did ben ml" "I mean sick," Miss Brainerd amended, recalling the southern interpretation of the word. "Well," Mrs. Arinil answered, reflecttively, "tbey ain't ben much sick, worst was when Hetty broke her arm; that was bad. You see Hetty and m«w was raised together, and first cousins and all liks we be, we think a heap of each other, so I'm over there all the time 1 can; and I was there that day. Yes ma'am, I don't reckon I shall ever forget the way Hetty looked marchiDg into the room with Leon in he,r poor arms and one of them plumb broken and Leon all i bloody. The way of it was, the bull I run at Leon— he want only five then and puny as puny — never believed they could raise him; and he want much hurt, but he fell down, that was how, and bloodied himself and looked the worst in the world; and she'd made a run for him and wrapped, the bull's head up in the doth* &adt hotd only

know-how she done it^-she got him tV&ek into the barn not hurt a bit and picked up Leon and carried him into the house— he made 9 kinder mess on the carpet tracking in you know, and someway Setb got word and come a flyin'. First he lowed 'twas Leon. He seen Hetty a standing calm as calm by the stove and the arm 'twasn'tbroke being toward him,he didn'tthink of her. 'Leon! Leon! Is Leon hurt bad?' was all his word, for God's sake, Esther, tell me', says he, 'I won't never ask you to say another word!' But she didn't say one word to him, jest calls in a queer, -choked-up voice; 'Leon, come on here to your father.' Then I said Leon was all right, it ben Hetty thet had broke her arm, and gave him the whole story kinder peppery like, for I felt riled to see him going on about the wrong one. I knew Hetty didn't like it, neither. But he felt bad enough when he got at the rights of the story. He hilt Hetty's arm when the doctor set it; she never made a lisp — didn't take ether or nothing, and the drops jest rolled off his face — looking on. But she never spoke to him. He waited on her night and day; he is a rig-ht good nurse. , "Nor she didn't speak to him the time the news came that he was elected. He walked into the room — he's a micrhty pretty man, only he's got a mouth for all the world like Leon's, ; anrl he's light complected with kinder ; red cheeks when he pits excited, but he didn't have a spear of color about him. She looked at him and I could see she ' was as worked up as him. 'Leon,' says he 'tell your mother I'm elected. Kinder queer, kinder queer, 1 do say.' ' "But. Mrs. Armil, what made them : do that way in the first place?" "Well, it's a longish story, but we're a riq-ht smart from the house vet. It corao about like this: Hetty is from Arkansas, born and raised there, but he comes from Kansas. He come down our way and settled down in the yum woods to make his fortune; but he fell in love with Hetty. Arkansas girls is pretty, and Hetty was the prettiest kind of a Arkansas girl — hair black's a buzzurd's wing-, and real snappity black oyo«, and white little teeth, and lashes long- enomrh to put in curl papers, and * je.st us slimber and graceful like a youn«j I fawn — that's Hettj' Sengnin. But Hetty — they do say there's Injun way back in the Senguins, anyhow there's French and Spanish, and Hetty, though she was jest as good a girl as you'd meet the longest day in the year — she was a kinder bearing"-inalice critter, laid things up and stored them by! So that's how it ben; she had a liking for young Robinson, who had a all-sorts store at the cross roads, and he was waiting on her regular, so 'twas when Seth asked her to marry him one night going home from pkvying games at the Widder Packard's, for you see we was all professors and did,n't hold by dancing. Where was I? Gh, yes, he asked her, and sit. % sis id no mighty prompt, and he was dreadful taken down. He knew well enough what made her." " CHAPTER 11. The woman continued: "He did pintedly feel bad; but he kept himself to himself and went on fooling his money away, rafting his timber down Black and you injr aground, and having to pay a heap to boats to tow him off and that way; and one day, Robinson had to go to St. Louis to buy goods, and there he got a good place as a clerk and sold out, thoug-h Iletty didn't like it; but he hadn't fairly asked her to name the day, so Bhe couldn't say nothing, but she hated it they worst in the world and looked like she couldn't bear to have him go; but he did go and she didn't git but one letter and news come in a month he was married to a St. Louis girl. Then Hetty she took up with Seth, and married him, and 'bout a year after they was married back comes young Robinson, no more married than the door post, and accuses Seth of knowing the story was not true, and having had a letter from the girl they told it 'bout saying she wasn't engaged to Robinson, and of sending him the paper with the notice of the marriage, and making him think Hetty had gone back on him, till he met up with some one from our way and got the whole story. I couldn't begin to tell you all the row he made. He drawed on Seth, but Seth was not afraid of him no more than nothing and knocked his pistil im the river, and said he never did get that letter, and sure's you're born he told the truth, for it come out afterward that she thought she'd sent it, but she hadn't. But you can imagine that Hetty felt terrible. Robinson came up to our house— l was back on a visit then — and he begged me to get him speech of Hetty, once. Ho wanted to explain and he cried, ho felt so bad. He was a right n'wv feller only a little hard of hearing, and mad if you spoke too low, and he was awful fond of clothes and used to put pretty smelling stuff on his handkerchief like a girl. I told him there was no use trying to stick on a chicken's head that wa9 cutoff, but he said here he'd come all the way to see Hetty, and how they had played together, and all that, when they was children, and how I was a kinder mother to 'em and so he sorter got me all worked up. I ain't excusing myself, but when he showed me the ring he'd brought Hetty and made like he was going to throw it into the river — but he didn't. He groaned like and stuck it back in his pocket, and they do Bay his wife wears it now; it was a gold ring with a little blue stone and two .pearls in it. But as I was a saying, when he Went on that way, I clean forgot to quiz him 'bout why he hadn't written to Hetty for he hadn't and he could write the best in the world. I was so taken up with pitymg him and looking at his fine clothes that I jest let him wheedle me into promising that I'd give his letter to Hetty. And I did. It was only three months before Leon was born. I don't see how 'I could do it, but I did. Hetty read it all through, and when she bad finished she, that was as strong 'a girl as you ever see for all her littleness, she fainted dead away, right there!" —^ "Did she go?" D "Well, no ma'am, she did not. She set and set there, she told me, after- I wards, until looked like her head would I fair burst wiliUfltudjujg. '^hensh^ot 1

vt and put on her bunnit, and went ou down the road where he was going to be, and I waß going to be near by, for I wasn't quite sech a God-forsaken foo ' as I seemed, and I lowed to have an eye on them two heart-broken things, for young thing's are jest natchelly fools and no knowing. So there, if you please, I had perched myself on a stump nigh enough to see Christie Robinson marching up and down and' talking to himself, most likely saying over the words he was going to say to her. I give you my word, ma'am, /waited and Tie waited on Hetty for four blessed hours, and, being- young 1 and foolish, I can't tell you whether I was most relieved she didn't come or mad at her for not coming and giving me my wait for nothing. But it was like this, as I said, Hetty did start and she got a spell into the woods when running fast, for she said she felt so tormented that she didn't know which way to turn, mad with Seth for how he had behaved (as she thought) and yet softening remembering how kind he was to her and worshiping the ground she trod on, a; the word is, and, being warm like, sht pulled out her handkerchief to wipe hoi face, and there tumbled put, to the same time, a little, bit of crochetin' lace sht was doing for trimming — for Leon, yoi know — and when she seen it, it all cairu over her, different, you know, and sin burst out crying and run home as fast r.: she could. But the mischief was Set} got wind of her being asked to come and Ire come home and missed her; anc when she did come home he was of hunting Christie llobinson. "Yes, they fit, then and there. Tha was when lie throwed the pistil into th< river; but I didn't tell you he throwec Christie after it. He did; he was mat clear through! But laws, didn't hurt, h< got out again! Seth, he went home anc found Hetty and went at her about go ing to see Christie and meaning to rur away with him. She tried to explain and he wouldn't believe her. That die cut Hetty awful; she always was feery and she told him that if he didn't be lievc her word that she gave him solemn, she never would say another word tc him. And she never has!" In the agitation of her tale, Mrs Armil mopped her face with both hei handkerchiefs. She stretched one arm '•There they live," said she, pointing a1 the house. "But Ithink it strange she was willing to live with him at all," said the young minister. "Well, no, he was her husband, anc he begged mighty hard; and then there was the child. I don't know how Hetty ciphered it out; she did live with him and she never did speak to him. J reckon I ain't going- to forget how he looked when Leon was born. lie come into the room and he looked at the little red mite and then he looked at the fact on the pillow, white as the pillow case was. 'Esther,' he says, 'it will neec both of us to bring- up our boy; can't yov forgive me?' She jest turned her face to the wall. I was sorry for him." "What did he do?" "Nothing. Jest drawed his breath and went out of the room. He didn't come back till she got well, but many and many a night I'd look out of the window and see him walking- up anc; down outside, and he was always on hand for errands. Seth is a right kind, nice man." The minister was thinking- what strange similarities there are in dissimilar characters. A story of the same unnatural state of domestic arrangement in New England flitted through hei mind. The woman had died unbendingly, with her last motion rejecting her husband's pra\ r cr; but she was a religious fanatic. Would Mrs. Rogers carry her sense of iDjury or her sense

HE THBOWED CHRISTIE AFTER IT. of duty to her word so far as poor Aunt Maria Edgerby? she thought, and what a life those two must have lived in this woirrt silence! "You have not told mo the rest, 1 ' she said. "How did they come to this pliieo?" '"Well," said Mrs. Annil. "I was settled here and Seth had a little money left him, and he liked hero, and so they come, and Seth has been a- working 1 and a-toiling- ever sence to git his farm clear. Well, he has paid off all into twenty-five hundred. He got a mighty nice farm, and Hetty does look after things close. Now, look at their cows — not nigh so ga'nted as most. Hetty didn't let them into the cornfields after crops was hud by — no, ma'am; she cut down everything and saved the fodder. They'll do all right if they km git the mortgage man to wait, and I got hopes he will, fer he waited for Emii. Emil sent him all the money he could raise, hut you see the banks are as bad off as the rest of us now. The man wrote a real nice letter to Emil and renewed it for three years. I feel thankful enough, folks are so poor now. The Gannetts, they was sold out last Thursday, and it was dreadful — eight little children; and nobody willing to pay anything for the cows, they was so run down. And they've set off in their wagon for Indian territory. I know as well as I want to that the second boy won't live to git ttiere,he's so puny. Poor little trick! He was saying to his mother: 'Oh, maw, will we have apple sass and fresh meat to eat in the nation?' Hetty, she jest fetched over a bag of dried apples and I gave -cm some sugar and a loaf . of li^ht bread to carry. ' 'It may be our turn next,' said Seth, and he gave the little bqy Mtj eeat*. jft wouid jm

break his heart to lose this place, but I am hoping Mr. Raimund — " "What is his name? Baimund, of my town?" "Yes, ma'am." "He is not a hard man." "Well, 8O I say; and it's hard for them that has money owing as well as them that owes. Well, 'twill be all the saino a hundred years from now, but it's bard pickings in the meanwhile. Here we • *"■ CHAPTER 111. • Mr. Rogers opened the door, a tall • man who stooped a little. He wore the black broadcloth of a rural politician, but it was scrupulously well brushed. His face was rather long, looking longer for a gray chin beard, and a bahl forehead, His hair like his beard was gray and beautifully soft. It curled about his face. His blue eyes were large and mild; indeed the -whole expression of bis face was that of rather melancholy patience. As he walked along he dragged his feet, giving a slump to his gate — more of indecision than awkwardness. lie greeted Mr. Armil warmly, and ; bowed a courtesy that was not so much rough as untrained, to Miss Brainerd. I "This is my wife, Miss Brainerd," he said, in the same tone that any husband j might have used. ; The minister, in her one year of of- ' fice, had seen some strange sides of doj mestic life; but this drama had new

--■ MX. BOOEBS OPENED THE DOOR. features; she felt a little thrill along her nerves as she glanced at the woman who had not spoken to her own husband for ten years. This woman (111 not look capable of such weird obstinacy; she was pretty, as Mrs. Armil had said, but with a more delicate and refined beauty than the minister h;:d expected. "She looks — whom does .siie look like?" thought the minister; "I declare it is Mona Lisa. She has just that mysterious smile." Perhaps a photograph of Mona Lisa hanging side by side on the wall v.itli the Archangel Michael suggested the comparison. She wondered if it was Mrs. Rogers' taste that had selected them, or the quiet paper on the walls, the little dash of color in a crimson drapery for the uglj' mantle behind the stove, the pretty wicker chair in the corner, the plants in the window. A small library, she was sure, bclon'^il to the husband. "No," she remembered, "Mrs. Armil said that she furnished the room to suit him. " And after a glance at the. wife's toilet, a brown alpaca gown made up with profuse draperies and trimming-s of red velvet, she gave Mr. Rogers cre<Ut for any evidence of taste. " Meanwhile, Mrs. Armil, who wished to do honor to her guest, had introduced her^ like the columns of a country paper as "Rev. Brainerd." She now set the conversational ball in motion with: "Rev. Brainerd's been interested in the destitution round here." "Yes, it's bad," said Rogers, crossing his legs and nervously twisting- his fingers, "it's bad, but we could get along if we could get more time on our mortgage." "Are the farms about here mortgaged?'' "Yes, ma'am. You may say all about here are. Pearl, '' addressing Mrs. Armil, "have you heard?" Mrs. Armil told more in detail the story that she had told Miss Brainerd. The interest in the man's eyes was plain, and though veiled the same interest was in the woman's. "Ain't you had a letter from him yet?" said Mrs. Armil, with the sympathy of safe people for others' troubles. "No." answered Mrs. Rogers, "not yet; but we sent Leon to the town to .see if we had a letter."' Then the talk drifted into generalities interrupted by the sound of hoofs. "It's Leon," exclaimed Rogers. Ho went hastily to the door. | The child of this strange couple came in.. He looked like his mother, and hi I father, delicate like the one, dark-haired and smiling like the other. His eyo» turned from the man to the woman in a, cordial glance that embraced them both. "Yes, I got the letter," he said. Then, for' the first tiene perceiving- the guest, he made his awkward schoolboy bow to the lady and submitted to be kissed by Mrs. Armil. "We have a mortgage on hand, too, you see," said Rogers; "will you ladies excuse me?" Here he tore open the letter with fingers plainly a tremble. There -was no attempt at disguise; every woman in the room stared at him. For him, his jaw fell; he grew paler, until his skin took the tint of gray ashes. His first action was to hand Leon the sheet with its typewritten copy and engraved heading. "Give it to your mother," he said, huskily. Leon's eyes shone as he obeyed; he was a child and hopeful. Mrs. Rogers read the letter; she may have had more self-control than be, for there was no cimnge, only a rigid settling of the mcscles. "She is thinking- that she told him so," reflected the minister. "Ma," Leon's voice broke the silence, "won't you tell me'. 1 " r t ''There ain't xv» reua^u v.2:j tL< j')

shouldn't all hear it," said the man. "He says that he was expecting to extend, knowing we'd, had hard times, Imt he read my name in the list of 1 representatives that voted for the stay law. He doesn't consider his property ' safe in a state where they pass such laws,, or with a man that will vote for them." He swallowed something in his throat. "I guess," he went on, "there's lots of fellows feel like he does, and lots of poor farmers will have to give up for the same reason. If it was only me. it wouldn't be so bad; but — " for the first time he looked- at his wife. She returned his look, a dull red creeping into her cheek; nor did shu take her eyes off his face while' he remained in the room — "it isn't only me. If we have made a mistake we have ruined all the others along with us." "That's jest so," said Mrs. Armil, heartily. Rogers smiled a little bitterly. What a tragedy the man's life had been, Miss Brainerd thought.- What a loneliness! He had in him, she decided in a flush of sympathy, rarer and finer qualities of nature, of affection and aspiration, than his unforgiving wife could ever comprehend. "1 seem to have missed it all 'round," he went on. "I did try, Hetty, and if I had got the farm cleared off I meant to have asked you if— if — things couldn't be different; there was a school we wanted to send Leon — " he did not know how to finish the sentence, apparently; but the mute entreaty of the* look turned on his wife's unmoved face awakened Miss Brainerd's indignant pity. "Well," he said, quietly, "there is* always the prairie schooner for me to take to; for I don't tnink I was cut out to make laws. I can't harm anybody but myself on the prairie; and Pearl will see you and Leon have a place to stay. Now, I guess if you ladies will excuse me, I'll go put up the horse. I'll be right back." As he stood in the doorway, his eyes turned back to Leon. "Shall I come too, pa?" said the child. Miss Brainerd, at, least, noticed a fine quiver pass over the man's face before he answered: "No, I shall come back soon. You stay with your mother." • ' f :- ""?.. Still, she was looking 1 at him. He walked out alone. Then she rose, her lips set firmly. "Will you excuse me,

"WILL YOU EXCUSZ MX, TOO?" too," she said; "I want to speak to my husband." "Oh Lord*" gasped Mrs. Armil. But Miss Brainerd had her word ready: "Tell him please that I know Mr. Raimund, well; he is in my congregation; and I will engage that he shan't foreclose the mortgage." "Well, Lord be praised! You're doing right, Hetty," called Mrs. Armil at the empty door, as soon as astonishment released her tongue: "better late tVr.i never. But*to think of her giving In now when hes' lost all his property, and him the helplessest man alive!'' "I think that was why," laughed Miss Brainerd; "such slight things are women." [the tND,] 4