Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 December 1879 — LOCKED IN A CLOSET. [ARTICLE]

LOCKED IN A CLOSET.

Aunt Claekett had invited oompany to tea. - - Aunt Clackett lived Ml alone in a little gable-ended cottage,with Turkey* red curtain* to all the windows, a velvety mam of fine geraniums In the casements, and odd little three-corner-ed cupboards, with glass fronts, whose shelve* were piled with old china, tmrious specimens of japanned ware and tiieoes of brocade ana satin which beonged to a century gone by. Aunt Clackett was one of these odd, original old ladies who, having contrived to wreck their matrimonial bark early in liie, are continually steering off in ail sorts of unexpected directions. Hbe had espoused the cause of woman’s ndependence with great vehemence uiueda debating club, and quarreled with* the Vice President at the second meeting. “A ng for woman's rights!” said Miss Clackett. ‘‘They’ve more rights than they know what to do with already.” Then she devoted herself to philanthropy, turned house info a uimature orphan asyluui,and went prowling about the lanes and gutters In search of proteges. But after she had been robbed twice site abondoned tile whole thing aud went for the natural sciences. “Nature can’t disappoint one,” said Miss Clackett. But nature did. The tittle fishes in her aquarium died, the stuffed animals fell to pieces, and the rare specimens of plants in her herliarium turned out to he poison ivy, and had nearly been the death of her. *. Ho then MiaS Clackett took to literature. *

“Shakespeare is eternally divine," said Miss Clackett. “And the creations of one'ti own brain and perpetually new.” Ho that now she went about with Inky lingers, a portfolio under her arm and a rhyming dictionary always-in reach, while her niece Dorothea did the housework'. Or at least the girl whom she called her piece, for Dorothea Dodd was no actual relation to the eccentric little old lady in the suufl colored front and twinkling gold spectacles. Hire was the last lingering relic of the philanthropic scheme, a dark skinned, solemn eyed little orpltan, whom Miss Clackett had fished up out of a rag-and-bottle cellar somewhere, and had hid iu the outhouse and refused to go when the other orphans were bauisbed, eu masse, to the care of the public* charitlrs and corrections. , ‘ Please, ma’am, can’t I stay?” said Dorothea. “I won’t tie no trouble, and I’m a good *un to work.” , “Blees my soul I’Vsaid Miss Clackett. /Where have you been all tins while?” “Please, ma’am, ,in the sited,” answered Dorothea, promptly. < “Well, then, I suppose you'll have to stay,” said Miss Clackett. Ana so Dorothea stayed. “Dorothea,” said Miss Clackett, on this particular afternoon, “is everything ready?” And the Dorothea Who responded to her summons was as unlike the weird looking little creature who had hid as was the crimson ciunamon ruse at the window from tlie Imittcss stem which had tspped_against the casement at the rude touch of the February blast. For Dorothea, like the rose, had blossomed out a fair, slight maiden, with a faint glow on tier olive cheeks, very black hair, growing low ou a sweet forehead, and tue softest and most appealing of eyes, which were neither black nor brown, but melted into the deepest wine lights at every emotion of her heart. “Everything is ready, Aunt Clackett,” said Dorothea. ‘.‘Cold boiled tongue, lobster salad, buttermilk biscuit, j>l\ims and currant “Yes, very nice, very nice!” said Miss Clackett, absentiv. “What do you think, Dorothea? Would you call -the heroine of my new story ‘Duialla’ or ‘Lucetta?’ ” “I don’t know—Luoetta. I think,” said Dorothea, assuming the air or a. critic.

“It Is to be published iu the Sun/' «aid Miss Ciaekett, triumphantly. “I •am to pay all expense*, and reserve the Tight of dramati.vti ion!” “But 1 thougnl,” said Dorothea, “‘that people made m > :ey out of such things. Hut you are‘spending’ mouey, Aunt.” * “Mouey!” repealed the old lady, loftily. “But who wants to make money? It is fame that I sigh after. And—” “Bat you’ve got to change your dress and do your hair yet, aunt,” suggested Dorothea, gently. “So I have—so 1 have!” said Aunt Ciaekett, “I do declare to you, child, I had nearly forgotten about the tea party. Let me see—whom have we iu▼ited?” JX “Your cousin. Mr. Folkestone, and Ain wife,” said Dorothea. “Oh,/yes, I remember now,” said .Aunt Ctacketi. ‘‘Fanny Folkstone, who is always sending me jelly and embroidered slipjiers, and writes me such loving letters every birthday.” “And Mr. Mole, the clergyman.” “Such a pious, delightful young man!” said Miss (Jacket. “And the Jtteses Walker, who enjoy hearing the . portions of my new serial so much. . and my oousi.i, Theodore Test, and old Ifn. Bapidan, aud Seringa Pole. Yes, JC*, I remembef now!” And Miss Ciaekett trotted up stairs to put on her black silk dress mid gold mosaic set, to do honor to the guests she had completely forgotten. In the middle of her toilet, however, • literary idea occurred to her, and sit-

\ ting down to commit it to paper, she] lost all count ot time, until the hum of’ below warned ber that ber Shad at last arrived. She then JISSg'JSSImiS £ “I must make haata,” she said. . Hurrying down the alalia, she be- N which she liked to weary 'sewol on a velvet ribbon, across the parting of the snuff colored “front” on her forehead. And squeeaing herself Into one of the odd iitll# octagon closets between the parler and the diningroom, she unluckily contrived to lock.Aerself in by ’some patent arrangement As complete as it was terrible. T “That self locking latch I had put on last week,” said Mlsh ('Jacket to herself “Oh, dear! oh, dear! Here lam Jua| exactly like the bride In the ‘Misletoe Bough’ song.” She was about to cay to Dorothea to oome and If Iterate her. whan the sound oi her own name, pronounced in the mild accents of Mr. Mole, the clergyman, arrested the words upon her lips. “Where is our dear Mias Olackett?” demanded that honey voioed divine. “Bbe must have fallen into a fit of abstraction up stairs,” said the eldest Miss Walker. “Tea is quite ready,’ said Dorothea, “I have rung the bell twice. Perhaps I had better go up stairs And see what has become of her.” “Do, mji dear,” said old Mrs. Rapidan, who spoke In a slow, comfortable way, “for I’m quite perishing for my tea.” '• Away tripped Dorothea, and presently sue came back with something of a scared face. “I can’t find her anywhere,” said she. “I’ve caUed aud called her—and I’ve looked in every room and she isn’t there. “Depend upon it,” said Mr. Folkstone, smiting the table with his hand “she’s been gone and done it at last!” “Done what?” said Mr." Mole. “Committed suicide,” said Mr. Folkstone. “Hbe always was three-quarters mad!” “Nonsense!” said Mrs. Rapid an, with a spice of quiet malloe in her voice. “It was nothing on earth but temper.” “I’ve always thought she ought to be But in an asylum,” said the youngest hss Walker. “And have an administrator appointed over her affaire,” added Mr. Theodore Taft, abstractedly helping himself to a slice of cold boiled tongue aud another of York ham. “Well,” said Mrs. Rapldan, “dead or alive, I suppose we had better have our tea!” “1 think,” viciously announced Miss Seringa Pole, “that she’s mad as a March hare! And I think her money, should be equally divided between her relations.” “Sodol,” said Mr. FolksUw-e. “And if she has hanged or drowned herself ”

“It’s all those horrid literary habits of hers,” ssidMr. Mole with his mouth hill of lobster salad. “Enough to underm. ne the strongest |*»rson’s equilibrium !” “I knew it all along,” said Mrs. Folk stone. “( could see she was losing her miml- I —what tittle there was of it to lose —poor, silly old woman!” “Perhaps it might be as well to look around the premises a little, after supper!” said Mr. Mole, with a hungry glance in the direction of the eolu meat. “And if you will be good enough to pour out the tea—” “I won’t!” said Dorothea, with biasing cheeks and a stamp of her litt(e foot . . ' ! ! , h . “Eh?” said Mr. Test. “What?” ejaculated old Mrs. Rapidan. “Go out of tlie house, every one of you,” cried Dorothea. “To dare to talk so of aunt, .who is so good and generous! To sit quietly down to eating and drink when she is not here! To call her a lunatio— a—a —*•” , “Young woman,” said Mr. Mole, “you are taking too much upon yourself.” - ' 1 } “1 should think so.” said Mrs. Folkstone, “for a pauper fouudliug picked out of the workhouse!” “Well, 1 never!” cried the Misses Walker in chorus. “Leave the house, I say,” reiterated Dorothea. “R Is Aunt Oiaekett’s house. You have no business to sit here and take so about her!” “Auut Clackett, Indeed!” said Seringa role. “As if she were any relation of yours, Miss! I, for one, shall say what I please about her. She Is a crazy old lunatio, and—” But Just here was the sound of a vigorous pair of knuckles on the door which connects the jMtrlor closet with the dining room. “What’s that!” said Mr. Mule, starting up in alarm. “A ghost!” said Miss Walker, nervously. 1 .. “Hats!” said Mr. Folkstone. *

, “Nil it isn’t!” said Miss Ciaekett, “it is I! Looked In here by mistake. Dorothea, yon will And the patent key onHhe parlor mantel-shelf. Be so good as to get it and let ms out.” And the next moment Mias Ciaekett walked smilingly out into the astonished nand of her relations and Mends, took the head of the table, aud began to pour out the tea. “A—hem!” coughed Mr. Mole. “We were really beginning to be quite alarmed about you,” said Mrs. Folkstone, moving uncomfortably in her chair. “So I should thiuk,”said Mies Otaekett, cheerily. But the was an{pleasant aud cordial as ever, and when her guests took leave they really did not seem to know whether they had been overheard or not. After they were gone, however, Mias Ciaekett held out her hand to Dorothea. “Come here aud kiss me, my dear,” said aha “f see that I have one friend left in the world, at least.”- ' And she made her will next day in favor sf Dorothea Dodd.. ' ! “Not that I mean to die at present,” said she; “but it’s always well to be prepared for any emergency*** And she never Invited that particular parly of guests to tea again ss long as she lived.”