Principal And Interest

'Olí, niother, mother, I am so tired !' 'Cheer up, my child, we have not very far to go. Come closer; let me brush the dew f rom your curia. Now take my hand.' But the child hung back, sobbing with weariness and exhaustion, and the palé young iiíotlier, bending over her in the vain attempt to soothe the hysterieal excitement, did not heai' tlie rumble of advancing wheels until they assed close to her and a rough, hearty r oice exclaimed : 'What Ril the little jirl ? Ain't sick, is she ?' Mary Ellsworth had never seen Farmer Eaynesford bef ore; yet the moment her eyes rected on his wrinkled, sun-burned face, with the shaggy brows overshadowing kind eyes, she feit that he was a frlend, aad made answer promptly : 'ïïot sick, sir, but very tired. We have walked a long 'Got much i&rther to go,' asked the farmer, tickling tjie hose's ear with the end of his whip. 'To Brecktoü.' Mr. Eaynesford gave a low whistle. 'That's four miles off, aud the little gal is pretty nigh used up already.' 'I know it, said the woman, with a sigh, 'but I have no money to hire a lodging nearer. In Breckton I hope to obtain work in the factory.' Farmer Rayneaford gave the seat of his wagon a thump with his whip handle that made old Bonny drop the mouthful of clover he was nibbling f rom the roadside and priek up his ears {i astonishment. 'l won't hear to no auch thing!' said he ettéigetically. 'Why, that child cun't go twenty rods farther! Here, get in along with sie. You won't le none ïhe worse for bjt of supper and a rood night's rest. I Jjaow HannaJi'll scold.' he muttered, as he liftod the little girl to his side, and extended his hand to the mother; 'but I can't see folks pe riabin' by the wayside and never offer to help 'em. 'I don't care if she scolds the roof of the house off.' He drove rapidly along, ffiaking occasionai interjectional remarks to his horse, while Mrs. Ellsworth drew her thin shawl aronnd the little golden head that already dropped drowsily upon her shoulder, and thought with a deep sensation of gratitude upon the shelter Heaven hart providedher in her sorest strait. It wasan odd-shaped old farm-house, gray with the storins of nearly half a century, with a broad door in one end, overhung by giant lilac bushes, and a kitchen where even in the bloomy month of June a great flre roared up the wide-throated chimuey, and shiningrowsof tins winked and glittered at every upward leap of the llames. Mr. Raynesford jumped out of the wagon, through the reins over a post, and went in to conciliate his domestic despot. 'Look here, Ilannah.' said he to a tall, angular-looking female who emerged from a pantry near by, her face nearly or quite as sour as the saucer of pickles she was carrying. 'Jest set a couple more plates on the table, will you? I've brought home a woman and a little gal I found a piece below, e'en almosttired todeath. They was calculatin' to walk on to Breek ton, but I thought it wcmldn't hurfc us to keep 'em over night.' 'i'm astonished at you, Job Kaynesford,' said his better half, in a tone of indignant remonstrance. 'We might jtist as well hang out a tavern sign at once and done with it ; you'ro always Dringing home some poor, miserable creetur or other and - ' 'There, there, Hannah,' inlerrupted tfr. Raynesford, 'I'm always willin' to ïear to you when you're anywSy reasonable," but it goes clear ag'in my grain to see poor folks a sufferin' and uever stretch out a helpin hand. J amt Soriptur nor 'taint human natur'.' ' Well, go your own gait, Job l'aynesford,' responded his wife, tartly. 'Only mark my words, iL you don't end your days in tLe poor house, 'twon't be through no f ault o' yourn !' She shut the pantry door with a bang that made all the jelly-cups and milk pans rattle, while Job, with an odd giïmace, went out to help his guests to alight. 'Don't mind my old woman,' said lie, apologetically, asMrs. Ellsworth sprang to the ground. 'She's kind o' sharp spoken, but she means well after all. We ain't all just alike in our notions, vou know.' 'If all the world were like you, sir,' said the young widow, with tears in her eyes, 'there would be less want and suffering, by far,' Farmer Ëaynesford pretended not to hear ; he was busy lifting little Mary out. 'Set on them blackberries, Hannah,' said he toward the cloae of their evening meal ; 'the little gal's so tired she can't eat nothin' solid.' 'I was caleulating to keep the blaekberries for to-morrovv,' said Mrs. llaynesford, rising with rather an unwilling air. 'lionsense,' quoth the farmer, with a broad laugh. Here, little oue, sëe if those berries don't put some color into your cheeks.' All the evening little Mary sat by the hearth, with her hand in her mother's and her large blue eyes iixed earnestly upon the kind farmer's face. 'Whaf .re you thinking about, dearest?' asked Mrs. Ellsworth once. She drew a long sigh, and whispered : 'Oh, mamma, he is so kind to 113 ' When Mary Ellsworth and her little girl set out next morning upon their long walkto Breckton, Job Kaynesford went with them to the gate, f umbling uneasily in his pocket and glancing guiltily around tomakesurethat Hannah was not within seeing jstance. When Mary extended her hand to say good-by, to her astonishment a bank bill was thrust intoit. 'Don't say nothin',' muttered Job, with a sheepish aip. 'Ten dollars ain't much to me, and if you don't chance to get work in the factory right away it may be a good deal ef use to you. Needn't thank me - you're as welcome as the flowors in May.' Ile bent over to kiss the child's fair forehead, and stood watchingthem until the two slight ügures disappeared, and only the goiden sky and moving crests of summer woods remained. 'Ten dollars!' ejaculated Mrs. Eaynesfoid, who had witnessed this little episode (rom behind the curtains of her milk room window, 'Is Job Kaynesford crazy ? To give $10 to u poor strolling vagrant! If he don't get a pieceof my mind - ' And she hastened out, her i ip border fairly standing on end with orror. Job awaited the coming tempsst with philosophic coolness, his hari.'.s in his pockets, and his lips parted Li a good-natured smile. It was nat the lirst piece of Mrs. Hannali's 'mind' thai l;ad been bestowed upon hini, nor did he suppose it was likely to be the last. 'She nseans well,' he said to himself, when the voiley of wrath had been diacharged on his luekiess bead, and Mrs. Baynesford had returned to her butter-making, 'bilt she's got the greatest faculties for scolding of any woman I ever saw !' The years ilitted by, sprinkling the steep old farm-house with crystal drops of April showers and thatching it with the dazzling ermine of January snows, many and many a time. Gray hairs crept in among the raven locks of Farmer Kaynesford, the care-worn wrinkles bégaii to gatlier around his mouth and brow. Alas! those swiftfooted years brought troubles innumerable to the kind old man. 'Twenty years !' mused he, one bright June morning, 'it don't seem possible, Hannah, that it was twenty years ago this very day that I caught that ugly fall from the hay rack, and got lame for life.' He looked down at the crutches by his side as he spoke, and sighed from the very bottom of his heart. Hannah stood in the doorway, tossing corn to a forlorn little colony of i chickpps Twenty years had not improved her in any respect - she was gauntier, 'bonier and more vtnegarfaced than ever. 'Yes.' said she slowly, 'and perhaps you don't remember that it was just twenty years ago today that you threw $ïu away on that woman and her child. 1 told you that you'd end your days in the poor house, and 1 don't see but what m ppediction is likely to come trae. Didn't I say you would live to repent it?' 'I won't deny, Hannah,' said the old man, 'but that l've (Jone a good many things I've been sorry for - we ain't none of us perfect, you know, wife - but that is not one of them. No. I never for a minute repented being kind to the widow and fatherless.' Hannah shrugged her shoulders but made no reply. 'Pidn't you say you were going up to see tha ri,oh lawyer about live thousand dollars to day ?' ste asked presentiy- 'Yes, but I don't suppose it'll be much use. If he'd wait a little, 111 do my best to please him. Jones says hü'll be sure to sell the old place from over our heads, however ; they teil me he's a hard man. I mean to explain tohim jast how the matter stands' - 'I told you how it would be long ago!' ejaculated Ilannab, unable to re strain her vexatioi:. 'What on eartl ever possessed you to sign lor .less Fairweather ?' '1 8'posed he was an honest man and I wouldn't seean old man wrong ed.' 'ITiddlesticks !' exclaimed Mrs Raynesford. -That's just your calcula cion, Job! There - Zeke has brough the wagon ; do start off or you'll be too late for the York train.' And Job nieekly obeyed, only too bappy to escape from the endless dis cord of bis wife's rolling tongue. The rays of thenoanday sunstream ed brightly through the slained glass casenients of Mr. Everleigh's gothic library. The room was decoratcd with appurtenance3 of wealth and taste Velvet chairs witli tall backs of daintily carved rosewood, were scatterec here and there ; marble vases occupiei niches beside the doorway, and the rarest pictures himg on the pannelled and gilded wal!. Bat the prettiest object of all - theone which the rich lawyer oftenest raised liis eyes from the writing to contémplate with an iuvoluntary smile of pride and affection - was a lovely woman in white oashmere morning robe, trimmed with velvet, who stood opposite arranging tlowers in a bouquet. She wore a stray of berries, carved of pink Neapolitan coral, at her throat, and tiny pendants of the same rare stone in lier snell-like ears, and the slender waist was tied around with a pink ribbon. 'There, Walter, isn't that pretty ?' she asked, holding up lier completed bouquet. 'Yery pretty,' iie answered, looking not at the rosea or geraniums, but directly at the blue eyes and golden curls of his beautif ui young wife. ' X ou are not even noticing it,' she pouted. 'Because I see sometiiing m aiuch better worth looking at,' lie sak! playfully. 'Do you really love me so very much f she asked, throwing down the flowera and coming arouncl to his side. He rose and drew her carelessly toward him. 'My dearest, you are more precious to me than the whole world besides !' She let her head rest for a moment on his shoulder, and when she raised it there was a tear on her eyelashes. 'Oh, Walter, if mamma could only see how happy we are!' There was a knock at the dooi'. Mrs. Everleigh slipped from her husband's arm with tho prettiest blush in the world, and was yery busy with her flowers when the rich lawyer's 'right hand man' put his grizzled.headinto the room. 'The old man wants to see you about that Fairweather business.' 'Show him in. Don't look so disappointed love,' ho said, as the grizzled head disappeared. 'I shall not be detained three minutes, and the borses are at the door,' Mary Everleigh never troubled her I pretty little head about business matters, go she never looked up as the halting sound of Mr. Raynesiord's cructh echoed on the carpet. E-si the instant he spoke she started as if an arrow had smitten and her slender hands clasped together listening as intently as if hei lífe depended on hearing eyery word. The old man was pleading and sorrowful- her husband politely inflexible. At length Job Raynesford tuined togo. ' Well, sir,' he said in a subdued tone, don'6 know much about law and law books, but it does seem hard that .in old man should be turned out of the home that has sheltered him for sixty years, and all for no fault of liis own. They say you are a very rich gentlpnian,sir; iive thousand dollars may seem a small sum to you, but it is my all.' Mrs. Everleigh's soft voice bioke the momentary silence that succeeded this appea!. 'Walter, come hereone minute -1 want to speak to you.' He obeyed, somewhat surprised ; she drew him into a deep receas of Ktaine.l glass window, and standing there with the rosy and amber shadows playing about her lovely brow, like some iair-pictured saint, she told him how tvventy years ago a wearied child and its mother were f ed and sheltered by a kind-hearted stranger ; how he had given them money and kind wishes, when t:iey were utterly alone and desolate in the wide world. 'But, my love, what has this to do with my business mattersV' 'Much Walter! I am that little child!' 'You, my dearest ?' 'I my husband, and the noble man who, 1 am persuadcd, savpd my life that uight, stands yonder, with gray, bowed head and sinking heart i' 'Mary, you must snrely be mistaken.' , 'I cannot be mistaken, Walter, I should know him among a thousand. You said you lovedme, thismoming - now grant me one little boon ?' 'What is it, dearest?' 'Give me that note he spoke of.' Mr. Everleigh silently went to asinall ebony cabinet, unlocked it, and drew out a folded paper, which he placed in her hands. She glided up to the old man, who had been gazing out of the window in a sort of rêverie, and laid her soft hand on his arm. 'Do you remember the little goldeu-haired Mary wbom you found with her mother, wearied out on the roadside, twenty years ago T 'Do I rememder her, lady? It was but this very morning I was recalling the whole scène.' 'And don't you recognize me ?' she said, smiling up into his face, as she lirew back the drooping curls. 'I am little Mary!' He stood in bewüdered silence. All of a sudder. thé truth seemed to break upon him, and he iaid his hand upon her head with a tearful Messing. 'And your mothef my child ?' 'Sho has been dead f qr years but it is my dearest task to be the instrument of her graütude, Here is the note you indorsed ; my husband has given it to me. See !' A small lamp was burning in one of the niches ; she held the bit of paper over the llame until it feil a cloud of light ashes upon the Hoor. Mrs. Eaynesford met her husband at the door the instant his cratches soundedon the little graveled path. 'Why don't you speak? Ofcourse I know you've nothing but bad news to teil, but I may as well hear it at once. Have you seen the gentleman ? What did he say ' 'Hannah, said old Job Baynesford, slowly f olding up his gloves, 'do you remember the $10 I gave that poor young wanderer a score years ago today ?' 'Why, of course I do. D.dn't I remind yon of it not twelve Ijours ago? What has tliat to do with our trouble pray 'r' Must this- to-day J received iay ment, principal and interest!' 'What do yon mean, Job Jlaynes ford?' 'The little golden-haired child tha sat beside our heartlistone that Jiuu evening is Lawyer Everleigh's wite and I have seen her burn the note tha lias hung like a mill-stone around m; neck for many years. She said it was but paying a sacred debt of gratitude but heaven knows T looked for no sucl reward.' ïhere was a ïnoment's silence. ïhe old man was pondering over the past and Mrs. Kaynsford was so taken by surprise that she really could not saj anything. 'And now, wife, what havi you tosay about my flnancial mistakes ? said Job, archly. Mrs. Raynesford had no argumeni suited to the emergencies of the case