CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. I. NO. 42.
CLOCK-WORK.
" Myno!” said Mrs. Poysett, laugh
ing at the very idea; “weain’t afraid to
stay in the house oae night 'thout men
folks. Be we, Lindy?”
“ 1 guess not,” said black-eyed Linda,
cheerily, washing her hands as a pre
liminary to putting the bread in the
pans.
“ I'rank says, when John wrote him
to come and stay over a day in Boston,
■Von’ll be afraid, mother, with all
I.indy’s presents in the house.’ And
he was real put out at first because I
wouldn't have some of the neighbors
lome in to sleep.”
“ Well, I don’t blarne you, es you
feels es you could sleep—on’y two
women folks,” said the caller, sharp
featured Miss Haines, with prominent
elbows and emphatically clean calico.
■•lt ’ud on’y amount to maltin' up a
hed for nuthin’.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Poysett went on, ac
companying the slicing of apples for
pies with tiie regular swing of her
ro king-chair, while she now and then
placi d a particularly thin and inviting
pu ci of the fruit hi her mouth, “that’s
what I thought. Ten—’leven—Lindy,
when you go into the other room I
wi-h you’d strike that clock round. It
strikes one too many.”
“ Ycs’m,” said brisk Linda,and then,
trying to extricate the recipe for com
po-ition cake from inevitable dreams
sb mt her wedding day, she forgot the
dock and made an incident for this
story.
•• Yonr presents are handsome, Lin
dy, there’s no mistake about that,” said
the visitor, turning the conversation
skillfully to the quarter toward which
the town interest was just then tend
ing.
•• Yes,” answered Linda, blushing a
little. She had grown used to blush
ing of late. “ People have been very
kind to me.”
“No m re’n you deserve,” said Miss
Haines,oracularly, and with an empha
sis that left no room for denial,
“folkssay to me,‘John Willey s been
picttv stiddv to goont West and mak ■
a home, ’n’ then come back n’ marry
the girl lie’s bfen with ever since they
was chiki’n.’ But i sav to ’em, •No
credit to him. No more n he’d orter
done. Lindy’s pure gold, and he’s got
the sense to see it.’ ” And sne finished
h r eulogy on the doorstep, perhaps to
avoid having the matter disputed,
while Linda went back to her
cooking table laughing, and still
gratefully rosy over the sense
that everybody in general was
far too good to her. It was a case of
the smooth running of deep waters.
She and John Willey had been pro
saically faithful to each other for
years before he asked her promise to
marry him. Eighteen months ago he
had gone West to set up in business as
a carriage-builder, and now, having
prospered, was coming East for his
wife. Within two days’ journey of
home lie had written to ask Frank,
I. nda’s brother, to meet him in Boston
for a day’s sight-seeing and an evening
at the tneatre.
“ I don’t know what I shall do with
out you, Lindy,” said the mother, put
ting down the knife to wipe away a
furtive tear with her apron. “ I’m
sure I don’t know.”
Linda was at her side in an instant,
with a tear of her own, and the two
women kissed, laughed and went on
with their work, as they nad done a
hundred times within the last fort
night. For Mrs. Poysett had the
equable temperament that sometimes
accompanies rotundity of form and a
double chin, and Linda, besides being
sensible,could not keep miserable very
king at a time.
Meanwhile, everybody in the town
ship wa3 not rotund and possessed of
double chins, not ail the houses were
keepers of new and shining wedding
gifts, and, strange to say, not every
body was happy. Pete Haydon, who
•ivel down in Tan Lane, was poor and
savagely discouraged. Ho made shoes
ordinarily. but that winter there were
no shoes to lie hail. His was a fine
and practiced hand; lie could do ail
sorts of jobs, from cleaning a watch to
ouiiding a chimney, but nobody saw fit
(o have making or mending done.
There had been only four or live pieces
if work since fall for Tinker Pete, for
none of which could lie, in conscience,
ask more than fifteen cents His wile
fell sick, the children's clothes were
too shabby for school, and just then
some one tapped Min on the arm and
tempted him.
One mominga stranger strolled into
town and stopped at Pete's little shop
to ask his way. He was traveling to
eoutlifield, so he said.
“ Where bad lie been?"
"Oh, anywhere,’ airily and jauntily;
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C„ APRIL 21, 1883.
“ traveling about the country. Might
take up with work somewhere, it I
found any worth doing.”
“Hard times,” said Pete, looking
moodily at the little red stove. “What’s
your trade?”
“ I’ve been a sailor,” said the man,
filling his pipe—a process Pete watched
greedily, for his own tobacco box was
empty. “Twenty years before the
mast. I should have been a captain
before this time—but there’s jealousies.
So I got sick of it. I call myself a
landsman now.”
• You don’t have the look of a
sailor,” said Pete, his eyes traveling
from the shabby fur cap and the dark
face with rather narrow, bold, black
eyes down over the shabby suit of
brown. »
The man gave a slight start and
glanced at him keenly: “You don’t
think so? Well, I’ve be n on land
some time now. Salt water’s easy to
shake off. What might your name be?”
“ Haydon—Pete Haydon.”
“And mine's Job Wiiettles. Queer
name, ain't it? Don't believe th ire’s
another like it in the country. Good
day, mate. If I’m round this way
again I’ll look in on you.”
And he did.
One day, as Pete was soldering a
milk-pail for Mrs. Burge, this time
whistling a little, having work to
whistle over, the man came in without
warning of rap or voice.
“Thought yon’s twenty-five mile
away afore this,” said Pete, plying his
iron! ‘ Take a seat.”
“ Things don’t please me much over
that way,” said the fellow, pompously,
again beginning to cut his tobacco,
psrhaps as a cover to his furtive
glances. “ I may stay round here a
spell. Perhaps I’ll do a bit of work on
somebody’s farm.”
“Can’t get it,” said Pete, briefly,
viewing his completed job with ap
proval. “ Ain’t no farm-work to be
had just now.”
“ Well, doing chores, I mean—light
work. I’m not particular how little I
do for my board,” with a coarse la.igh.
“Folks do their own work round
here,” said Pete. “Some of ’em have
got money enough to pay, but they’re
able-bodied, as it happens, and don’t
want a hired man round in the winter.
“Seems a pity don’t it?—that
things can’t be equally divided, so that
you and I could have our share,” said
the sti auger, putting industriously at
ids pipe, hut not forgetting to watch
the tinker. “ I should like to help my
self to somebody's pile; now, shouldn’t
you? Honestly enough, of course,
inan. You needn’t jump. I mean, sup
pose the young fellow that owns the
big farm over there—Poysett?—should
say, • AVhettles, take half my hank
stock. 1 don’t need it all?’ do you
think I should say ‘no’ ?”
Os course the tinker laughed at the
fanciful notion. He was a sunny-tem
pered fellow; it hardly needed a very
bright thing to provoke his mirth.
Where Wiiettles stayed at night was
a mystery. Sometimes Pete suspected
lie might have slept in a barn, he
turned up so tousled in the morning;
often lie guessed, that Toppan, the
saloonkeeper, bad given him a lodging,
from tiie fumes that lingered about
his shabby person. He had money at
times, for again and again he treated
Pete to a glass of whisky. Pete was
not used to frequenting the saloon; he
did not in the least approve of it; but
it happened that about this time-this
evil bird of prey sought his company
more persistently than did any more
respectable person. And Wiiettles
was a sociable fellow; he could tell
more stories in half an hour than any
six of the honest people Pete knew
taken together. He was, so Pete con
cluded, nobody’s enemy hut his own.
It would take more time than you are
willing to give, and a deeper knowl
edge of mental intricacies than I pos
sess, to detail the process through
which Pete was brought to the point
of promising to creep into the Poysett
farmhouse and rifle the old desk that
stood between tiie sitting-room
windows, the grocer’s bill was grow
ing longer, liis wife was paler, and she
worried him by entreaties to let
Wiiettles aione and forsake Toppan’s;
the aggregate of such straws is not
small.
The opportunity came, fitting the
mood as exactly .as if the m iod ha I
made It. Frank Poysett was going to
Boston to meet Jonn Willey; the
“ women folks” would lie alone.
“ You take Poysett’s,” said Wiiet
tles. “you know the lay of the land
there, and the sarin night I’ll try Tur
ner's, over on the hill. We'll meet
somewhere about 1, down there under
the big elm, and divide. After that
I’ll make tracks across lots and take a
train somewhere; nobody’ll think of
you.”
“But s’pose my courage gives out,”
Tinker Pete said, uncertainly. "I
don’t know’s I can do it after all. It’s
easy enough to get in, but what if
somebody should see me? It might
end in what’s worse.”
“ Man alive!” said Whettlds, impa
tiently. “ Afraid at your time of life ?
Well, here’s what I’ll do. They go to
bed early; you can have it over by
midnight. Now, I’ll come hick that
way, and if you’re there and afraid to
stir, I’ll go in and do it myself. But
mind, I don’t expect you to back out.
And if I ain’t there by 12 you’ll know
somethin’s happened and I can’tcome;
so you’ll have to go on your own hook.
But be sure you’re at the big tree
by 1.”
AVhettles. like many another skillful
tactician, did not tell his catspaw all
His flans. He had no intention of
doing what might be done for him.
It was only polite to assure Pete of
helping him out should his courage
fail, for fear, under too great dread,
that he might break away from the
plan altogether.
AVhen Pete crept up to the house at
10, the women had been soundly
asleep for two hours. He tried the
kitchen window; it had no fastenings,
and went up noiselessly. He stepped
in and stood trembling. The clock in
the next room ticked with appalling
loudness. His knees smote together,
but it required as much courage now
to flee as to remain. Perhaps for ten
minutes—perhaps hours, judging by
his own exaggerated reckoning—he
stood in fear; and then, as tiie clock
ticked on steadily as if it had no refer
ence to him, his heart-beats grew
fainter and his courage crawled back
He crept toward the sitting room
door on his hands and knees. There
stood the old desk, with its high spindle
legs, half of rt exaggerated shadow and
half thrown into light by a shaft from
the mr.'UU, Probably th° h f '7 was in
the lock. He li 0 '! seen it there him
self a dozen times—had seen Frank
bring in a tat roll cf bills after selling
his oxen, toss tnem in there and put
down tne cover without turning
the key. There had been no rob
beries in Belburn. and so people
trusted more in human nature and
less in steel and wood. But the
sitting-room was so light! He should
never dare go in there; the very
thought of having his shadow thrown
on the wall, distorted like those of the
tables and chairs, gave him another
sickening spasm of fear. AVhat if
there were only women in the house?
Suppose one appeared? where should
he hide himself? He was not a thief
hy nature or training. He would
crouch down in a corner and wait for
AVhettles. He had been there ages,
when the clock gave warning; ages
longer, and with an alarming prelim
inary whir it struck twelve. He
started up with an after-impulse, of
gratitude that lie had not shrieked.
When iiad the hour before struck ? It
seemed incredible that he could have
slept, but it must have been so, or,
what was more probable, he had been
too absorbed to heir it. It was time
for AVhettles. He crept hack to the,
kitchen Window and waited in the cold
draught of air. Minutes passed, each
seeming ten. He began to grow
angry. Did the fellow mean to play
him false and not come at all? As
anger rose his courage to do the deed
ebbed. I do not believe conscience
asserted itself very strongly. Life was
harder than it had been even one day
before, and there was no flour in the
house uow. He was still bitterly
at odds with life, but. the after
effects of the whisky AVhettles
had given him were nervousness and
irresolution. The clock gave warning
for another hour. False, friendly old
clock, if he could have seen your faC3
lie would have known it larked ten
minutes of midnight then; instead,
he believed it would strike one. Too
late for AVhettles. Perhaps lie was
now at the old elm ; he would hurry
there and bring him back to do his
share of the work. He closed the win
dow behind him and hurried off to the
rendezvous. There was no one there.
At that moment the relief of having
been prevented from sin overbalanced
every other feeling. Something must
have happened to AVhettles; perhaps
he had been caught; perhaps he would
say that liis accomplice was waiting
for him under the elm ! He started
on a swift run for home, to find his
wife watching for him in the moon
light.
She was too thankful at finding him
sober to worry at the lateness of liis
coming. Being a woman of tact she
did not question, but went to sleep,
while Pete lay till daybread in a cold
bath of fear, expecting a rap and sum
mons to jail at every tapping of bough
or snapping of frost-bitten nail.
AVhettles had lingered about
Turner's, a great house over the hill,
in tiie hope that the guests—for there
was a party that night—would take
their leave. But no; the house was
lighted from chambers to parlor, and
sleighs came instead of going away.
He walked up and down the orchard,
cursing himself to keep warm. Later
and later, and tne singing and dancing
shadows on the curtains did not cease.
He would hurry over to the Poysett’s
and see if the catspaw had done his
work there. He stole up to the desig
nated window, as Pete had done. No
ono was there. He listened and
whistled softly. The clock struck one
He had no idea it was so- late. Pete
must be waiting for him at the elm
And so he, too, hurried away.
But there was only a mammoth lace
work of shadow under the elm. AVhere
was Pete? The master-villain, him
self puzzled, reflected a moment. Per
haps the fellow had the money and
was hiding it at home. Lucky thought!
He would go to th6 house
and call him up, in spite of
disturbing wife and children. Then
see if lie would refuse to share)
He took the road, and, passing Top
pan’s saioon, noticed a dim light in the
barroom.- It was rather unusual that
it should be there so late, but he had
known it to happen before. lie had
just about money enough for a dram
He tapped, and then tried the door; it
was unfastened, and he went in Vghtly
A man in a great-coat rose from bis
scat by tiie stove and swiftly, dexter
ously pinioned him. Toppan himself,
always on the winning side, was there
to help, and AVhettles was arrested for
his la-t crime.
Mrs. Poysett and Linda were afoot
early the next morning, putting the
house in holiday trim.
“ I declare if ’tain’t an hour earliei
’n I thought,” said Mrs. Poysett as she
came down into tiie sitting room,
where the little air-tight was already
doing ardent best. “ Lindy. you didn’t
strike that does round yesterday, after
all.”
“ No, mother; I forgot it,” laughed
Lindy. “ I should forget my head,
nowadays, if ’tivasn’t fastened on.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” said the
mother, beginning to spread the
breakfast table “I’m just out o’ pa
tience with that clock, strikin’ tne
hours away afore they get here. It
seems real malicious, tryin’ to hurry
you off. Now, perhaps it's only halt a
day’s job or so; let’s send tor Tinker
Pete and have him come up and fix it.”
So the chore bov was dispatched for
Pete. He came like a culprit, uncer
tain whether the message was feigned
to cover suspicion of him or not. But
no one could look into Mrs. Poysett’s
clear eyes for a moment or hear Lin
da s clear laugh, with even a linger
ing fear that either had anything to
conceal. AVhen they described the
clock’s malady, 1 am inclined to think
Pete was as near being faint with sur
prise as ever man was in his lire, and
I think lie touched the worn old clock
case reverently, thanking it for
keeping liis deeds honest, however
he had sinned in thought. He
stayed to dinner, and Mrs. Poy
sett put up a pail of goodies
for the children. On liis way home
he heard the news; AVhettles had been
arrested and taken away on an early
train. Again he walked in fear and
trembling; his hair grew used to stand
ing on end in those days. He expected
an interview with Nemesis concerning
his intended crime, hut, whether justly
or unjustly, Nemesis stayed away.
The wedding? It was a very quiet
one, and the happy pair went away
next morning, followed by blessings
and old shoes. Frank had such an ex
travagantly good time in Boston that
he felt that he could only counter
balance it by plunging into work
deeper than ever. So lie began cutting
timber in the old wood-lot, and hired
Tinker Pete to ctiop there every day
till spring.— Lippinrott.
Just About.
All the passengers in the street car
on Austin avenue were very much
annoyed hy a crying child, and one
old ge ntleman appeared to be particu
larly exasperated.
“'l do wonder what little wootsy
tootsy is crying about,” said the
mother, dancing the infant up nnd
down.
“ I know what he is crying about.
He has li en crying about six blocks;
ever since you got into the car.”—
Sifting v.
The jar of a railway train is pot her
meticallc sealed.
V. C. SMITH. Publisher.
FOR THE FAIR SKX
I Two Romances.
i The son of a loading lawyer in New
i York, some years ago, was attracted by
tiie innocent face and quick wit of a
AVelsh chambermaid in his lather’s
house, and declared that he preferred
her to all tiie fashionable beauties who
i had courted his notice. His family
| protested, but to no purpose. The
j i nly concession he would make was to
| consent to go to Europe for three
, v- ars before inarfyiqg the girl. In the
meantime, having an independent for
tune, the lover placed her at one of the
best schools in New York. The girl
was ambitious and devote l iu her af
fection for the man. who had chosen
i her. He return3d, found her more
i lovely than over. They were married,
and tiie la.tr is now one of the leaders
ot society in tiie city where they live
—a noble, refined, cnarming woman.
An eminent jurist, well-known in
Pennsylvania in the early part of this
century, was “making the circuit” on
horseback, and stoppe t for dinner at
tiie iiouse ot’ a farmer. The daughter
of tiie farmer waited on them, and
the judge—who had been a cynic about
women—observed the peculiar gentle
ness «f her voice and a certain sweet
candor in her face. After dinner the
I farmer said:
“ Mary, bring the judge’s horse.”
Mary started to the field, whi.'h was
! inclosed by a barred fence. Laying
her hand on the topmost rail she vault
j ed tightly over.
“ I saw,” said the judge afterward,
i “ for tiie first time, a woman with the
j mind and body I should require in my
i wife. I called again and again at
; Farmer C.’s. At last I sent Mary to
I school for a couple of yea-s, and here
she is,” nodding to the stately matron
who preside 1 at his table.
The s ins of tiie judge and this Maud
Muller all attained distinction; one,
like his father, at the bar; mother was
:in eminent divine, and a third was a
t’-onthtllu UUUlliluto fur frlic yl tJbIUCU^J.
All were noted for their fiery elo
quence, their high sense of honor and
a certain appetite for fighting which
was well sustained by strong physical
health. The judge had not been mis
taken in Mary’s qualities of mind or
: body.— Youth's Companion.
Fashion Notes.
j The leading bonnet is the gable-roof
| poke.
Black dresses are again in high
! favor abroad.
Only out door costumes are made of
| cacheinire des Indes.
I Vi sites with ends falling to the
| knees in front are more diminutive
| than formerly, so as not to hide the
beauties of the toilet beneath.
Among the novelty trimmings we
find caili.acre intermingled with gold,
mixtures of leather and gold lace, plain
leather laces and plain leathef pipit gs
Three thicknesses of satin, shined
on cords and secured to the crown of
the hat in double box plaits so as to
produce the shell style, is new and ef
fecti. e.
] Tiie latest ribbons are the velvet
centers with cashmere (igures on either
side, Ottomans with brocade figu-es in
all shades, and velvets with cashmere
holders.
A simple and graceful overskirt has
a deep, round apron front that reaches
to the foot of the underskirt. Several
thick, full plaits are laid at each side
of the aprou, and the back lias two
full breadths of the material to be
draped in soft folds.
Tailor-made dresses grow in popular
favor. They will be worn for lawn
tenuis an I or jquet parties for the
house, the seaside and mountain use,
and in all colors, light and dark,white
black and tinted, according to the oc
casion, time and place.
New styles in hats and bonnets are
the Langtry, with the crown set low
and the front ra sed: Patti, a medium
poke with square crown; liernadiue.
) projecting front, sloped at the skit*
and ra s si in the hack; Gem, a small
bonnet wi ll Normandy crown; Es
cort, w ith double-edged brim and be. 1 !-,
crown; Rival, a walking hat; Crescent,
square bell crown, brim sloping front
| and hack with inverted edge; Mag
; nolia, oval crown and curved brim:
I Clifton, a dress hat, drooping over the
- face; Promenade, walking hat with
round crown and Derby brtin; Con
quest, dress hat; Fedora, handsome
dress hat with square crown, narrow
and drooping in the right, a raised
curve on tho left and double-edge
brim; Coquette, bonnet similar to last
season's Langtry, and the Bon Ton,
v ith its low, square crown sloping at
the back, deep brim high in front,
close at the sides and short in the
back.