Salome's burden

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Good evening, sir," Josiah responded rather shamefacedly, for in his heart, he acknowledged every word Mr. Amyatt had spoken to be truth.

He watched the Vicar out of sight, then entered the cottage and sat down at the kitchen table to his supper of fried eggs and bacon.

"I hope the eggs are not spoilt," Salome remarked. "But they've been cooked nearly half-an-hour, and I'm afraid they're rather hard, for I had to keep them warm in the oven."

"Never mind, my dear," he returned. "If they're hard it's my fault, I ought to have been here before. By the way, I've brought you a piece of news."

"Have you, father?" she said with a smile.

"Yes. Greystone is taken by a rich gentleman from London, and he and his family are expected to arrive to-night. The house has been furnished in grand style, so I'm told."

"Did you hear the gentleman's name?" Salome asked, looking interested, for Greystone had been untenanted for some time. The house had been built by a speculative builder, but it had not proved a good speculation, as, beautifully situated though it was, it was very lonely. "I wonder if Mr. Amyatt knew," she added reflectively, as her father shook his head.

"Mr. Amyatt is a very nice man in his way," Josiah remarked, "an' I shall never forget how kind he was when your poor mother died, but he don't know how to mind his own business. If he likes to be a teetotaler, let him be one. If I enjoy my drops o' beer 'long with my friends at the 'Crab an' Cockle,' that's naught to do with him." And having finished his supper, he pushed away his plate, rose from the table, and strode out into the garden.

Salome stayed to wash up the supper things, then went into the garden too, but by that time her father was nowhere to be seen. Hurrying to the gate, she caught sight of his stalwart figure disappearing in the distance, and knew that he was making his way to the inn again. She stood leaning against the garden gate, sore at heart, until a chill mist from the sea crept upwards and surrounded her; then she retreated into the cottage and waited patiently, listening to the ticking of the tall, eight-day clock in the kitchen. She knew her father would not return till the doors of the inn were shut for the night.

At last she heard the click of the garden gate, and a minute later Josiah Petherick stumbled up the path, and, leaving the cottage door unlocked, crawled upstairs to his bedroom, muttering to himself as he went. Salome waited till everything was still, then she rose, locked the door, and swung herself, step by step, by the aid of her crutches, up the stairs.