Rensselaer Republican, Volume 24, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 October 1891 — THE EGG-STEALER. [ARTICLE]

THE EGG-STEALER.

Arthur Q. Couch In London Speaker, It wanted less than an hour to high tide when Miss Marty Lear heard her brother’s boat grate on the narrow beach below the garden, and set the knives and glasses Straight while she listened for the rffttle of the garden-gate. A stunted line of hazel ran along the foot of the garden and prevented fcxll view of the landing-place from the kitehen window. But above the hazels one could look across and catch a glimpse, at high tide, of the intervening river, ors toward low water qf the mud banks shinning in the sun. It was Miss Lear’s custom to look much on this landscape, ffromthts window; hail in fact been her custom for qlose upon forty years. And this evening, when the latch elicited at length, and her brother in his .market suit came slouching up the path that broke the parallels of garden stuff, her gaz<; rested all toI gether on the fine of gray water. Nor, when he entered the kitchen I and hitched his hat upon the peg - against the wall —where its brim accurately tltted a sort of dull halo in the whitewash —did he appear to want any welcome from her. He was a long jawed man of sixtv-five, she a long-jawed woman of sixty-one; and they understood each other, having kepi this small and desolate farm together for twenty years— since their father’s death. There was a cold paste ready on the table, and the jug of cider "that Job Lear regularly emptied at supper. These suggested no questions, and the pair sat down to cat in silence. It was only while holding 1 is plate for a second helping of the pasty that Job spoke with a full mouth. “ Who-d^ye-Teekon—-to downlnTroy?” Miss Marty cut the slice without troubling to say that she hud not an idea. “Why, that fellow Amos Trudgel oh,” he went on. ; “Yes?” “’Pears to me you disremetnbegs on —son of old Jane Trudgeon that [ used to live ’cross the water; him I that stoic our eggs long back, when father was livin’.” “I remember.” “I thought you must.- Why, you gave evidence, to be sure.. Bedashed! now I come to mind, if you wasn’t the first to wake us up an’ say you heard a man cryn out, down ’pou the i mud.” ! “Iss, I was." ; “An’ saved his life, though you did get on two months in jail by* it. Up to arm pits, he was, and not„two minutes to live, when we hauled en out an’ found he’d been stealing our eggs. He inquired after you, today. ” “Did he?” T “Iss. ‘How’s Miss Marty,’ says he, ‘Agein’ rapidly,’ says I. The nerve that some folks have! Comes up to me cool as my lord and holds out his hand. I’d a mind to say ‘Eggs’ to en, it so annoyed me; but I hadn't the heart. ’Tis an old tale after all, that feat o’ his-” “Two an’ forty year, come seven teenth o’ July next. Did he say any more?” “Iss —wanted to know if you was married." “Oh, mv dear God!” Job laid down his knife and fork with the edges resting on his plate. aticT wTCfi a Tump of pasty in one cheek, looked at his sister. Before he could speak, she broke out again: “He was my lover.” “Mar —ty ” “I swear to you, Job —here across this table—he was my lover,. an’ I ruined en. He was the only man, ’cept you an’ father, that ever kissed me; .an’ I betrayed en. As the Lord liveth, I stood in the box an’ swore away his name to save mine. An' what's more, he made me.” “Mar ”

“Don’t hinder me, Job—it’s truth I'm tellin’ ee. His people were a low lot, an’ father’d have hided me if he’d I know. But we used to meet in the ; orchard, ’mostevery night. Amos'’d ' row across in his boat, an’ back agen. ■ For the Lord’s sake, brother, don't look so. I'm past sixty, an’ no harm ! done; an’ now evil an' good’s the same to me.” "Go on.” ‘‘Well, the last night he cameovcr 'twas low tide. I was waitin’ for en in the orchard; an' he would have me tell father and you, and I wouldn’. I recken.we quarrelled over it so long, his boat got left high in the mud. Anyways, he left me in wrath an' I stood there by the gate in the dark, longin'for en to come back. But the time went on an’ I didn't hear his oars pullin’ away-—though listenin’ with all my ears. “An’ then I heard a terrible sound, a low sort of breathin' but fierce an 1 something worse, a suck-suckin’ of the mud below; an’ ran down. There he was, above his knees in it, halfway between firm ground and his boat. For all his fightin' he heard me, and whispers out o’ the dark—— “Little girl, it’s got me. Hush! don't shout” “Can ? t you get out? I whispered back. J “No, I’m afraid." “1’1! run an’call father an’ Job.” “Hush! Be you mazed? Do you want to let’em know?" “But it’ll kill you, dear, won’t it?" ‘Likely it will,' said he. Then after a while of battlin’ with it he whispers agen, ‘Little girl, I don’t want to die. Death is a cold end. But I reckon we can manage to save me an’ your name as welL Run up to the ben house an* bring me as many eggs as. you can find.—an’ don't

ax questions. Be quick; I can keep up for a while.’ “I didn’t know what he meant but; run for my life. I could tell pretty well how to find a dozen or more in the dark by gropin’ about, and in, three minutes had ’em gathered in the lap of mj dress an’ run down agqn. I could just spy him —a dark blot out on the mud. “ ‘How many?’ he asked, his voice hoarse as a rock. “ ‘About a dozen.’ “‘Toss’em here. Don’t come too -.near, and shy ’em careful so I can catch ’em. Quick!’ r “1 stepped.down pretty®ear to the brim of the mud an’ tossed 'em out) I to him. Three fell short in my hurry, but the rest he got hold of some- ; how. — “ ‘That’s right. They’ll think egg stealin’ nateral to a low family like I our’n. Now back to your room, un- ! dress an’ cry out, sayin' there’s a j man shoutin’ for help down ’pon the I mud. When you wave your candied twice in the window I’ll shout like a Trojan. ’ “An’ I did it, Job, for the cruelty I in a fearful woman passes knowl- ; edge. An’ you rescued him an’ he went to jail. For he said ’twas the only way. An’ bis mother took it quite reas'pable that her husband’s son should take to the bad—’twas the way with all the Trudgeons. “You needn’t look at me like that. I’m past sixty and I’ve done my share of repentina He didn’t say if ; he was married, did he?”