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had brought the umbrella, looked ter tered trousers, her own dress being ribly frightened. “They won't let me very old-fashioned, coarse, and scanty, go over, you know," she said, nodding -So scant, in fact, as to reveal the anher head toward the house, “not if it's gles of her form with ungraceful defireally small-pox !” And then, with the niteness, especially the knees, that were hope at which the young are so quick almost suggestive of a skeleton, and to catch, she added, “ May be it is n't now, as she put herself in position, as small-pox. I have n't heard of a case it were, stood up with inordinate promanywhere about. I don't believe it is." inence. Her hands were big in the And then she told Mrs. Walker not to joints, ragged in the nails, and marred all fret about home. “I will go," she said, over with the cuts, burns, and scratches " and milk the cow, and look after of indiscriminate and incessant toil. But things. Don't think one thought about her face was, perhaps, the most sadly it." And then she asked if the rest of divested of all womanly charm. It had, them at John Walker's were well. in the first place, the deep yellow, life

"If it's Hobert you want to know less appearance of an old bruise, and about," the grandmother said, smiling was expressive of pain, irritation, and faintly,“ he's well; but, darlin', you 'd fanatical anxiety. better not think about him : they 'll be “Go to Miss Walker's !" she said ag'in it, in there!” and she nodded again, seeing that Jenny was taking toward the house as Jenny had done down from its peg in the kitchen-wall before her.

a woollen cloak that had been hers The face of the young girl flushed, since she was a little girl, and her not with confusion, but with self-assert- mother's before her. ing and defiant brightness that seemed “Yes, mother. You know John Walkto say, “Let them do their worst." The er is very sick, and Mrs. Walker has thunder rattled sharper and nearer, been sent for over there. She's very bursting right upon the flash of the down-hearted about him. He's dangerlightning, and then came the rain. But ous, they think ; and I thought may be it proved not one of those bright, brief I'd come round that way as I come dashes that leave the world sparkling, home, and ask how he was. Don't but settled toward sunset into a slow, you think I'd better?” dull drizzle.

“I think you had better stay at home Jenny had her milking, and all the and tend to your own business. You 'll other evening chores, done betimes, and spile your clothes, and do no good that I with an alertness and cheerfulness in can see by traipsin'out in such a storm." excess of her usual manner, that might “Why, you would think it was bad have indicated an unusual favor to be for one of our cows to go without milkasked. She had made her evening toi- ing,” Jenny said, “and I suppose Mrs. let; that is, she had combed her hair, Walker's cow is a good deal like ours, tied on a pair of calf-skin shoes, and a and she is giving a pailful of milk blue checked apron, newly washed and now.” ironed; when she said, looking toward “ How do you know so much about a faint light in the west, and as though Miss Walker's cow ? If you paid more the thought had just occurred to her, attention to things at home, and less to "It's going to break away, I see. Don't other folks, you 'd be more dutiful.” you think, mother, I had better just run “ That's true, mother, but would I aver to Mrs. Walker's, and milk her be any better ?” cow for ber?"

“Not in your own eyes, child; but “Go to Miss Walker's !” repeated your 're so much wiser than your father the mother, as though she were as and me, that words are throwed away much outraged as astonished. She on you." was seated in the door, patching, by the “I promised Mrs. Walker that I waning light, an old pair of mud-spat- would milk for her to-night,” Jen

THE GREAT DOCTOR.

A STORY IN TWO PARTS.

PART I.

"

Mrs. Walker ? It'll rain afore hope that their blackness would frightyou git there, if you 've got fur to-go. en the tears away from her eyes. John Had n't you better stop an' come in till was her own boy,- forty years old, to this thunder-shower passes over?” be sure, but still a boy to her, - and

** Well, no, I reckon not, Mr. Bowen. he was very sick. I'm in a good deal of a hurry. I've “Well, I don't know," Mr. Bowen been sent for over to John's.” And said, opening the mouth of the horse rubbing one finger up and down the and looking in it; “we all have our horn of her saddle, for she was on troubles, an’ if it ain't one thing it's horseback, Mrs. Walker added, “ John- another. Now if John was n't sick, I ny's sick, Mr. Bowen, an' purty bad, s'pose you 'd be frettin' about someI'm afeard.” Then she tucked up thin' else ; you must n't think you 're her skirts, and, gathering up the rein, particularly sot apart in your afflictions, that had dropped on the neck of her any how. This rain that 's getherin' is horse, she inquired in a more cheerful goin' to spile a couple of acres of grass tone, “ How 's all the folks, – Miss for me, don't you see?” Bowen, an' Jinney, an' all ?”

Mrs. Walker was hurt. Her neighbor By this time the thunder began to bad not given her the sympathy she growl, and the wind to whirl clouds expected; he had not said anything of dust along the road.

about John one way nor another; had “You'd better hitch your critter un- not inquired whether there was anyder the wood-shed, an' come in a bit. thing he could do, nor what the docMy woman 'll be glad to see you, an' tor said, nor asked any of those quesJinney too, - there she is now, at the tions that express a kindly solicitude. winder. I'll warrant nobody goes “I am sorry about your hay," she along the big road without her seein' answered, “but I must be going.” 'em.” Mr. Bowen bad left the broad “Don't want to hurry you; but if you kitchen-porch from which he had hal- will go, the sooner the better. That looed to the old woman, and was now thunder-cloud is certain to bust in a walking down the gravelled path, that, few minutes.” And Mr. Bowen turned between its borders of four-o'clocks toward the house. and other common flowers, led from “Wait a minute, Mrs. Walker," the front door to the front gate. “We called a young voice, full of kindness; 're all purty well, I ’m obleeged to you,” “here 's my umberell. It'll save your he said, as, reaching the gate, he leaned bonnet, any how; and it's a real purty over it, and turned his cold gray eyes one. But did n't I hear you say someupon the seat legs of the horse, rather body was sick over to your son's house ?” than the anxious face of the rider.

“Yes, darlin'," answered the old wo“I'm glad to hear you 're well,” Mrs. man as she took the umbrella; “it's Walker said ; “it a’most seems to me Johnny himself; he's right bad, they that, if I had Johnny the way he was say. I just got word about an hour last week, I would n't complain about ago, and left everything, and started anything. We think too much of our off. They think he's got the smallli..le hardships, Mr. Bowen, - a good pox.” deal too much!” And Mrs. Walker Jenny Bowen, the young girl who

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had brought the umbrella, looked ter- tered trousers, her own dress being ribly frightened. “They won't let me very old-fashioned, coarse, and scanty, go over, you know,” she said, nodding -So scant, in fact, as to reveal the anher head toward the house, “not if it's gles of her form with ungraceful defireally small-pox!” And then, with the niteness, especially the knees, that were hope at which the young are so quick almost suggestive of a skeleton, and to catch, she added, “May be it is n't now, as she put herself in position, as small-pox. I have n't heard of a case it were, stood up with inordinate promanywhere about. I don't believe it is." inence. Her hands were big in the And then she told Mrs. Walker nat to joints, ragged in the nails, and marred all fret about home. “I will go," she said, over with the cuts, burns, and scratches "and milk the cow, and look after of indiscriminate and incessant toil. But things. Don't think one thought about her face was, perhaps, the most sadly it.” And then she asked if the rest of divested of all womanly charm. It had, them at John Walker's were well. in the first place, the deep yellow, life

" If it's Hobert you want to know less appearance of an old bruise, and about," the grandmother said, smiling was expressive of pain, irritation, and faintly, "he 's well; but, darlin', you 'd fanatical anxiety, better not think about him : they 'll be “ Go to Miss Walker's !” she said ag'in it, in there !” and she nodded again, seeing that Jenny was taking toward the house as Jenny had done down from its peg in the kitchen-wall before her.

a woollen cloak that had been hers The face of the young girl flushed, since she was a little girl, and her not with confusion, but with self-assert- mother's before her. ing and defiant brightness that seemed Yes, mother. You know John Walkto say, “Let them do their worst.” The er is very sick, and Mrs. Walker has thunder rattled sharper and nearer, been sent for over there. She's very bursting right upon the flash of the down-hearted about him. He's dangerlightning, and then came the rain. But ous, they think; and I thought may be it proved not one of those bright, brief I'd come round that way as I come dashes that leave the world sparkling, home, and ask how he was. Don't but settled toward sunset into a slow, you think I'd better ?” dull drizzle.

“I think you had better stay at home Jenny had her milking, and all the and tend to your own business. You 'll other evening chores, done betimes, and spile your clothes, and do no good that I with an alertness and cheerfulness in can see by traipsin'out in such a storm.” excess of her usual manner, that might “Why, you would think it was bad have indicated an unusual favor to be for one of our cow to go without milkasked. She had made her evening toi- ing,” Jenny said, “ and I suppose Mrs. let; that is, she had combed her hair, Walker's cow is a good deal like ours, tied on a pair of calf-skin shoes, and a and she is giving a pailful of milk blue checked apron, newly washed and now.” ironed ; when she said, looking toward “ How do you know so much about a faint light in the west, and as though Miss Walker's cow ? If you paid more the thought had just occurred to her, attention to things at home, and less to "It's going to break away, I see. Don't other folks, you'd be more dutiful.” you think, mother, I had better just run “ That 's true, mother, but would I over to Mrs. Walker's, and milk her be any better ? " cow for her ?"

“ Not in your own eyes, child; but “Go to Miss Walker's !” repeated your ’re so much wiser than your father the mother, as though she were as and me, that words are throwed away much outraged as astonished. She on you.” was seated in the door, patching, by the "I promised Mrs. Walker that I waning light, an old pair of mud-spat- would milk for her to-night,” Jen

ny said, hesitating, and dropping her on the ground with its burden, — they eyes.

seemed, somehow, brighter than the “O yes, you 've always got some roses at home, – and, with them swingexcuse! What did you make a prom- ing in her hand, had wellnigh gained the ise for, that you knowed your father door, before she perceived that it was would n't approve of? Take your standing open.

She hesitated an inthings right off now, and peel the po- stant, — perhaps some crazy wanderer taters, and sift the meal for mush in or drunken person might have entered the morning; an' if Miss Walker's cow the house, — when brisk steps, coming must be milked, what's to hender that up the path that led from the milking Hobe, the great lazy strapper, should n't yard, arrested her attention, and, lookgo and milk her ?"

ing that way, she recognized through You forget how much he has to do the darkness young Hobert Walker, at home now; and one pair of hands with the full pail in his hand. can't do everything, even if they are “O Jenny," he said, setting down Hobert Walker's !”

the pail,

we are in such trouble at Jenny had spoken with much spirit home! The doctor says father is betand some bitterness; and the bright de- ter, but I don't think so, and I ain't satfiant flush, before noticed, came into isfied with what is being done for him. her face, as she untied the cloak and Besides, I had such a strange dream, proceeded to sift the meal and peel the I thought I met you, Jenny, alone, in potatoes for breakfast. She did her the night, and you had six red roses in work quietly, but with a determination your hand, let me see how many have in every movement that indicated a you.” He had come close to her, and will not easily overruled.

he now took the roses and counted It was nearly dark, and the rain still them. There were six, sure enough. persistently falling, when she turned Hump..!” he said, and went on. the potato-peelings into the pig-trough “Six red roses, I thought; and while I that stood only a few yards from the looked at them they turned white as door, and, returning, put the cloak about snow; and then it seemed to me it was her shoulders, tied, it deliberately, a shroud you had in your hand, and turned the hood over her head, and, not roses at all ; and you, seeing how I without another word, walked straight was frightened, said to me, “What if it out into the rain.

should turn out to be my wedding“Well, I must say! Well, I must dress ?' And while we talked, your say !” cried the mother, in exasperated father came between us, and led you astonishment What on airth is that away by a great chain that he put girl a-comin' to ?” And, resting her round your neck. But you think all elbows on her knees, she leaned her this foolish, I see.” And, as if he yellow face in her hands, and gathered feared the apprehension he had con out of her hard, embittered heart such fessed involved some surrender of consolation as she could.

manhood, he cast down his eyes, and Jenny, meantime, tucked up her pet- awaited her reply in confusion. She ticoats, and, having left a field or two had too much tact to have noticed this between her and the homestead, tripped at any time; but in view of the serious lightly along, debating with herself circumstances in which he then stood, whether or not she should carry out her she could not for the life of her have will to the full, and return by the way turned any feeling of his into a jest, of Mr. John Walker's,--a question she however unwarranted she might have need hardly have raised, if unexpected felt it to be. events had not interfered with her pre “My grandmother was a great bedeterminations. At Mrs. Walker's gate liever in dreams,” she said, sympathetishe stopped and pulled half a dozen ros- cally; " but she always thought they es from the bush that was almost lying went by contraries; and, if she was

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