One of those gentlemen was at that moment lying underneath with his skull fractured, and it cost me fifteen pounds to get it mended, besides the expense of a new drawing-room carpet.
—From "Humorous Stories" by James Payn. By permission of Messrs. Chatto & Windus.
SHELTERED.
BY SARAH ORME JEWETT.
It was a cloudy, dismal day, and I was all alone,
For early in the morning John Earl and Nathan Stone
Came riding up the lane to say—I saw they both looked pale—
That Anderson the murderer had broken out of jail.
They only stopped a minute, to tell my man that he
Must go to the four corners, where all the folks would be;
They were going to hunt the country, for he only had been gone
An hour or so when they missed him, that morning just at dawn.
John never finished his breakfast; he saddled the old white mare.
She seemed to know there was trouble, and galloped as free and fair
And even a gait as she ever struck when she was a five-year-old:
The knowingest beast we ever had, and worth her weight in gold.
He turned in the saddle and called to me—I watched him from
the door—
"I shan't be home to dinner," says he, "but I'll be back by four.
I'd fasten the doors if I was you, and keep at home to-day;"
And a little chill came over me as I watched him ride away.
I went in and washed the dishes—I was sort of scary too.
We had 'ranged to go away that day. I hadn't much to do,
Though I always had some sewing work, and I got it and sat down;
But the old clock tick-tacked loud at me, and I put away the gown.
I thought the story over: how Anderson had been
A clever, steady fellow, so far's they knew, till then.
Some said his wife had tried him, but he got to drinking hard,
Till last he struck her with an axe and killed her in the yard.