Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 September 1886 — GOSSIPING MISS PERKINS. [ARTICLE]

GOSSIPING MISS PERKINS.

BY LILY CURRY.

Miss Perkins cleared her throat and looked knowing. “I didn’t s'pose you’d care so much, •Kerrie,” she said, after a moment of •Hence, during which the young girl hud turned her face away. Miss Perkins was one of the born aggraWaters of humanity in general and in particular. Minerva Woodford felt horribly tempted to tell her so. But Minerva had Wonderful self-control for 17, wonderful •elf-control for such smiling azure eyes and thick-massed, ungovernable auburn hair. It waa no light imposition, thus that , •he had borne throughout that glorious midsummer afternoon; the company of ■Miss Perkins “to tea,” the threads of gossip Miss Perkins unraveled (inch for inch With the yarn of the great gray balls from which she was always knitting ugly* stocklags for heaven knew whom) and knit up •lowly with her own peculiar skill of narration into a substance quite as ugly and durable as the product of her hands. It was One or Miss Perkins self-enjoined duties to communicate disagreeable tidings. She felt a delightful sense of peace •nd contentment now that she had concluded her task of enlightening her young •nd motherless hostess. “ ’Nervie was a wood girl and hadn't ought to be deceived ■eastest," she said tb herself, “more by such a worthless critter as that Jason Hawkes.” “I didn’t s'pose you'd care so much.” she •epexted with an air of sympathy. Minerva was reaching through the window to Ibreak off some of the pink roses that bung there red-ripe and luscious. She did not obey her impulse to turn and speak sharply. She did noLsay out her thought. • ‘Nervie!” How she hated to fie called **Nervie!" No one with any sense called her anything but Minnie. ’No one but Miss Elvira Perkins. She wished Miss Perkins would never come to See her. She thought all this, but what she said •was milder, as she faced about carelessly and stood arranging the roses. “I am sure I hardly understand you, Miss Perkins. Why should you suppose J cared what was said about Jason Hawkes? Surely he has a right to marry whom he pleases.” She might have been a little paler than Osual, but her voice was quite steady. Miss Perkins smiled discreetly. •There ain’t much chance for the young girls," she observed, “when there’s a designin' widow come to town. Mis’ Darrell’s just got Jason Hawkes wound completely "round her finger. ’Tisn’t that he’s so much account, though if he'd married gou, you could’.ve had a good influence. He’s altogether too fond o’ race-horses and suchlike evil-doings. But for her to come and set herself up so mightily—why, she ain’t once returned your call now, I’ll be bound." Minerva’s lovely face flushed painfully •t the reminder. She stepped from sittingroom to kitchen and put some water in a vase for the roses. Her heart throbbed with a great ache, but never should her caller know it “It’s almost time for father to come," she •aid, quietly, “I’mgoing to set the table mow, Miss Perkins. Will you sit by the idoor? I’ll bring your chair. ” •Oh, law! Icanmauage formyself,” said tire elderly maiden, rising in some haste to push the wooden rocker before her over the sill and down the length of the shining kitchen. It was a wing' of the house facing the road, and the door was open. A sudden hoof-beat and a rumble of Lwheels on the soft and yellow-dusty road. kA carriage spun by after a certain wellknown pair of jet-black horses. w Miss Perkins sent up a shrill little cry of — -—■ / —= “I never! There they go; he’s driving her out to the fair-grounds. What do ybu think of that, ’Nervie?” But Minerva made no reply. Miss Perkins turned only to see the girl •lip quietly from the room. Miss Perkins sat there alone for a considerable space. The tea-kettle had begun to sing cheerily. The snowy table-cloth and the shining glassware had an inviting aspect. There was plenty of Miss Perkin’s favorite sauce and sweet-pickle; there was just the kind of tea-biscuit and cocoanut-cake that she doted on. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands with a sigh of thankfulness for duty performed, and blessings about to.be enjoyed. Then Minerva’s father arrived. • . - “How-dy, Miss Perkins,” he said. •Where’s Minnie?" Minerva reappeared, just a little pale •nd shadowy around the eyes. “Here I am, father." she said, gently; •tea is ready. I had something to do, I’d zno.->*t forgotten.” Miss Perkins went away just after tea. She did not stop to “help ’Nervie do the <Hshes, ”as usual. Il was getting dark and she had a long walk, she suddenly remembered. Minerva went about her work quite unassisted. Her father was due at some village meeting, and so presently she was left alone in the house. 1 A terrible sense of depression fell upon faer. She wondered if Jason Hawkes were coming. She was quite prepared. She had every thing ready to return to him, his letters, and the little pearl ring he had given her. Everything was wrapped securely; the package was too heavy for her pocket—quite too heavy. She wondered if he would come. And how should she feel when she had given all back to him, and said to him that they had better part? She hardly knew. 0, life was hard and bitier. Jason had loved her—she knew he had loved her —until that woman had come to the village, the “designing widow,” as Miss Perkins had said. Perhaps Miss Perkins was right. Minerva finished her work and went to •it on the porch. The air was heavy with

the scant of rose and honeysuckle. And she felt her heart within her as cold as a stone. She had sat than less than half an hour, wfaen the gate opened, and a form familiar came swiftly up the walk. Her cold heart seemed for a moment to stand still. Then it throbbed painfully. ’ i “Good evening;” she answered very quietly to his “good evening." But she didn’t give him her hand. ■ The rest all cAthe about vety swiftly. O pride, for Jhy stern sake how many hearts are wrong! He should never know that she had learned his treachery. He should simply believe she did not caie for him. “Hereare your letter* and the ring." she said swiftly, glad that the darkness veiled her pallor. Jason Hawkes received them in bitter silence. • “As von choose, then, Coquette,” he muttered, and. turning, strode away. Minerva Woodford tossed Wakefully her bed that night.lt was the first great trouble of her life., First troubles are so bitter. Everything recurred to her- everything that Miss Perkins had told her concerning Mrs. Darrell. The widow was young and pretty. Why should not Jason care for her? She had come from the city, and was bright with city ways and city talk. She seemed to have money in abundance. () it was cruel! The whole thing was cruel! . . Minerva fell asleep only toward the dawn. She rose pale and heavy-eyed for the morning, yet strong in the intention of concealing her griet. The summer day dragged heavily toward noon, more heavily after. Time was so long, so long. It seemed a century since Miss Perkins had been there with her tale of Jason Hawkes’ devotion to the young widow. But the dream was over. It was Minerva’s task to forget their plighted vows, to forget the handsome face that had been so dear to her. Probably he would leave the village—when he had married the widow. ■> Minerva’s eyes grew dim; she felt a choking sensation and stepped to the open door, hoping the soft summer breeze would cool her hot forehead. As she stood there she suddenly heard a sharp cry of distress, then something tore "piist'in the road, beating up the yellow dust in blinding donds. . “A runaway,” she said, and her heart seemed to cease beating for an instant. She ran down the path and out into the road. The horses had dashed on, but something of a wreck was perceptible a short distance off. Minerva thought she could see some one lying by the roadside. She ran on toward it, at her utmost speed“0, Jason, Jason!"she moaned, bending down ovsr him. Not dead, thank Heavenl Only stunned, perhaps. She raised his head, loosened his collar, and asked herself what pext. Turning for a moment she looked back down the road and saw some one going in. at her own gate. It was a womau. She| flew back toward home to ask help or whomever, it might be. - ' ■ It was Mrs. Darrell! She was very pale, and addressed the girl anxiously. “I’m afraid an accident has happened Mr. Hawkes. His team ran away—’’ “He is lying in the road unconscious,” Minerva interrupted. “Will you help me some way to —” . “Let ns go quickly,” said the other. And so they had not lost an instant. Jason had come to himself, “Badly shaken up, that’s all,” he said with an tuiuerved laugh, and, leaning op their arms, limped back to Minerva’s home. Minerva drew up the arm-chair in tha sitting-room, and left him there with Mrs! Darrell, going herself into the kitchentq make a cooling drink" for her guests per, force. Through the open door between the rooms she could hear Jason’s voice gloomy and dispirited. “Good thing, perhaps, if I had been kilted. Wouldn’t have cared much,” “0, but youshouldn’t say that, ” the soft voice of Mrs. Darrell replied. “You ought to care. Things may come right—you know.” Minerva’s heart seemed to twist up within her in a sudden jealous frenzy. Sh« could fancy just how the widow’s dark, soft eyes were gazing into his; just how her white and graceful hand lay on hi? arm. Yes; things might come right. But why should JnsPU Speak gloomily? _She had given him his freedom. The hand with which she offered him the glass of lemonade shook perceptibly. Did Jason observe it? “I am going away to-morrow, Miss Woodford,” he said rather stiffly. “Perhaps I may carry your good wishes with me. I greatly regret having made you this trouble. ” The widow had slipped out on the porch. “It is no trouble, whatever, Mr. Hawkes-,* replied Minerva. »- “Miss Mpijtford,” said a soft, smooth voice fronr’Wt among the roses, “won’t you please come out here a moment?” Minerva’obeyed. ~ The widovr-came near to the girl and, laid her gentle hand upon her arm. “I have heard so much of you,” she said, in a low tone. ,*T feel as "if) we might be friends. I liave been trying to come and see you for so long; I was on my wav this morning. I’m afraid you feel unkindly toward poor Jason. Please, please don't feel so. He has not been to blame —” Minerva’s heart was. boiling within her. She answered with an effort. “1 was not aware of-any unkind It can interest you very little how I feel. ” “Oh. but pardon me! It interests mq exceedingly.” . “0!” said with sudden satcasm. “Tobe sure! 1 forgot. Will yoq permit me to congratulate Mr. Hawkes.” Mrs. Darrell looked perplexed. “Congratulate? For what?” “Upon bis engagement to yon,” said Minerva, with a little gasp. • “You—foolish:—child! Who put such nonsense in your head?” Mrs. Darrell was actually laughing.—“ Did you fancy—why, child, lam six years older than he. Besides—l am to marry his cousin Frank, who is in Europe now. I thought he had told you. There, now. run in to him and make it all up. I'm off for the present. t ßut I'll be back.” Minerva turned into the house with cheeks aflame. “Jason.” she said, “I—l think I was too hasiy last night. It—it was a mistake." Jason sprang to his feet and drew her into his arms. “Who was it that came gossiping to you?" he demanded. “Wasn’t it Miss Perkins?” ~ “Yes,” said Minerva, slowly. “It "was Miss Perkins. But I don’t believe her—now.” — Chietago Ledger. No way has been found for making heroism easy, even for the scholar. Labor, iron labor,, is for him. The world was created as an audience; the atoms of which it is made are opportunities.—Emerson. We look at the one little woman’s face we love as we look at the face of our mother earth, and see all sorts of answers to our own yearnings.— George Eliot