Needle And Thread

'An old bachelor?' said Honora Maywood. 'Tbat's what he told me, just in ao many words,' said Mrs. Pennypacker, who stood n the threshold of her best room, with her head tied up in a poekethandkerchief, and a hair broom in lier hand, wherewith she gesticulated, after a tragic fashion, as she talked, while Miss Maywood, tall and slender as a white lily, stood in the hall, with a roll of music under Hér arm, and her slight figure wrapped in a shabby black shawl. 'And he's willing to pay my price, cash, every Saturday night. Ne ver attempted to beat me down a penny, if you'll believe it, my dear.' 'Wny shouldn't he?' said Honora. 'Most people do, my dear,' said Mrs. Pennypacker. 'A wrinkled old wido v like me, who has her living to earn, is mostly fair game for everybody. A real gentleman, my dear - every inch of Mm. But he's a little particular I'm afraid. 'I suppose most old baehelors are,' said Miss Maywood, smiling. 'Yes, my dear - yes,' - nodded Mrs. Pennypacker. 'But this gentleman is beyond the average, I think,' 'Andif heis?' 'Nothing,' said Mrs. Pennypacker, making a dab with her broom handle at a stray moth miller which was fluttering blindly against the garnet damask window curtain. 'Nothing, except that one don't know whereto have him. He drinks only English breakfast tea, and he wants his pie-crusfc made with the best Alderney butter, instead of lard, as is good enough for other people; and he must have ventilators to all the Windows, and an open grate, instead of the base burning stove ; and - I hope you'll not be offended, my dear- but he particularly dislikes a piano.' 'Dislikes a piano?' said the little music teacher, reddeningin spite of herself. 'And he says, says he ; 'I hope, Mrs. Pennypacker, that there is no piano in the house, A piano,' says he, 'plays the deuce with my nervous system, with its everlasting tuin, tuin! These are his words, my dear. So I courtesies, and says : You'll not be troubled with any one here, sir. 'And so, my dear, I'll be gratef ui if you won't mind doing your practicin' while he's out for his daily walk- f rom 1 to 3, just as regular as the clock.' Miss Maynard looked piteo usly up in the landlady's face. 'I will do anything to oblige you, Mrs. Pennypacker,' she said eamestly. I hayen't forgotten how much I'm indebted toyou, both iu actual money and in kindness, which money can never And her soft blue eyes hlled witn tears as she spoke. 'My dear, don't say a word,' said Mrs. Pennypacker, hastily. 'You've been siek and you've got a little behmdhand, and it's quite natural you should be a little low-spirited now and then. But you mustn't get discouraged. ïhings will look up af ter a while. And you're quite welcome to stay on here until you're able to settle up your little account.' Honora Maywood sighed as she thought how often her little advertise ment had been inserted in the daily papers, without attracting the least notice trom the world of patrons and pupils. There were so many 'capable music teachers, willing to give lessons at moderate prices,' nowadays, and how was any one to know kow sorely she needed the money ? And as time crept on and no pupils came, Honora began to ask herself seriously whether she should go out in some menial capacity, or stay genteelly at home and starve. 'Clothes, ma'am. Honora started from her rêverie as the washerwoman's slumpy little girl banged herself, like a human batteringam, up against the door, with a preposterously large basket on her arm. 'Yes,' said Honora, coloring. 'Put them down, Sally. Bjt I - I'm af raid it isn't convenient to pay your mother o-day. ' 'Mother didn't say nothin' 'bout the pay,' said Sally, wiping her forehead with a whisk of her hand, sniffling herse'.f nearly off her feet. 'I was to leave the clothes with her 'umble duty, and she 'oped they'd suit ; but it was that damp on Monday and Tuesday as starch wouldn't stick. A.nd she 'opes you'll excuse all mistaken as they'll be done better next time.' 'I daré say they are quite right,' said Honora, with a little sight, as she marvelled at this unexpected access of courtesy on the part of her Milesian laundress. But when Sally had stumped off down stairs, her flapping slippers beating a sort of tattoo as she went, and Miss Maywood took off the fringed towel that covered the basket of clothes, she gave a little start. 'Shirts,' said Honora, 'and socks, and tum-over collars, 5To. 16, and great, big pocket handkerchiefs, like the sails of a ship, and white vests, and - goodness me! what does it all mean? Mrs. Mulvey has sent me some gentleman's wardrobe by mistake. I ruust send these things back at once.' But thon Miss Maywood looked down at the articles in grave consideration. 'I never had a brother,' mused Miss Maywood; 'and I can't remember my father; but of this I am quite certain, if I had either one or the other, I should thank a girl to mend their dilapidated wardrobes if they looked like this. And Mrs. Mulvey can't send before night, and unfortunately I have nothing to do, so 111 just mend this poor young feüow's clothes, whoever he may be. A half-starved theological student, perhaps.training f or the Polynesian Islands; or, perhaps anewspaper reporter, or a palé clerk under the dazzling sky lights of some dry goods palace. At all events, he's worse off than I am, for he can't mend his own clothes and I can.' And the smiles dimpled arotmd Honora Maywood's little rosebud of a mouth, as she sat down to darn-holes, sew on tapes, and insert patches. 'He'll never know who did it,' said Honora to herself, 'but I dare say he'll be thankful; and if one can't get a little good in this world, one ought not to grudge one's time and trouble.' And as Honora sitched away she mused sadly whether or not she ought to accept a position which had offered itself as assistant matron in an erphan asylum, where the work would be almost unendurable, and the pay next to nothing, with no Sundays nor holidays, and a ladies' committee, consisting of three starched old maids, to 'sit' upon her the first Friday of every inonth. 'I almost think Fd rather starve,' said Honora. But.dearme! starving is a serious business, when one comes to consider it face to face. Sally Mulvey came back, puffing and blowing like a human whale, in about two hours. 'Mother says she's sent the wrong basket,' said she breathlessly. 'I thought it very probable, Sally,' said Miss Maywood. 'And mother coniplimeñts,' added Sally, 'and she can't undertake your tliings no longer,Miss Maywood, 'cause she does a cash businese.and there ain't nothing been paid on your account since last June.' Honora feit herself turning scarlet. 'I am very sorry, Sally,' said she. 'Teil your mother I will settle my bill as soon as 1 possibly can.' Sally flounced out of the room, red and indignant, like an overcharged thunder cloud, and poor little Honora, dropping her head on lier hands, burst into tears. 'Pretty girl that - very pretty,' said Mr. Broderick, the old bachelor, to his landlady. 'Do yOu mean - ' 'I mean the young lady boarder of yours that I see on the stairs now and then,' said Mr. Broderick. 'Mee figure -big, soft eyes, like a gazelle. Didn't some one teil me she was a music teacher ?' 'That's her profession,' said Mrs. Peimypacker. 'But there ain't many pupils as wants tuition, and, poor little dear, she has but a hard time of it.' 'Humph!' grunted Mr. Broderick. 'What fools women are not to have a regular profession. If I had a daughter I'd bring her up a self-supporting institution.' And Mr. Broderick disappeared into his room, in the midst wheíeof stood a girl with flapping pers, a portentous shawl and bonnet, which had originally been manufactured for a woman twice her size. ' Who are you ?' demanded Mr. Broderick. 'Please sir,' I'm Sally- the washerwoman's Sally!' was the response. 'And what do you want here?' asked Mr. Broderick. 'Please, sir, I've come to biïng your things,' said Sally, chattering oö her lesson like a parrot. 'And please, sir, her 'umble duty, and she 'opes they'll suit, but it was that damp and muggy Monday and Tuesday, as starch wouldn't stick; and she 'opes you'll excuse all mistakes, as they shall be done better uext time, sir- please.' 'Who mended 'em?' demanded Mr. Broderick, whose hawk-eye had already caught sight of the dainty needle-work upon bis garments. 'Nobody mended 'em,' said Sally. 'And mother slie says its easy to see as the new gentleman is a bachelor, on account of the holes in his heels and toes and strings on' his dickeys.' 'I can teil who mended 'em,' said Mrs. Pennypacker, 'for I see her at it, the pretty dear - Miss Maywood ! And says she, 'I don't know whose they are, Mrs. Pennypacker, but,' says she, 'they need mending, &nd a kind action never comes amiss.' No more it does, sir, Lord bless herí' 'Humph !' said Mr. Roderick. 'She's right - no more it does, And she's a regular scientist at the needie, is Miss Maywood. Just look at that patch, Mrs.Pennypacker I Euchd s geometry couldn't produce a straighter line or truer angle. See the toe of that stocking ! It's like a piece of Oobelin tapestry. That's theway I like to see things done.' And Mr. Broderick never rested until he had been formally introduced to Honora Maywood, and had thanked her with equal formality for thegood offices she had unwittingly rendered Mm. It was a golden October evening that Honora came down into the kitchen, where Mrs. Pennypacker was baking pies for her eccentric boarder, with the crusts made of the best Alderuey butter instead of lard. 'Oh, dear! oh, dearl' said Mrs. packer. ' What a thing it is to be an old bachelor.' 'He won't be a bachelor much longer,' said Honora, laughing and coloring. 'What do you mean ?' said Mrs. Pennypacker. 'He has asked me to marry Mm,' said Honora, 'af ter on!y two weeks' acquaintance. He says that a girl who can mend stockings as I do needs no other test.' And so the probleem of Honora's solitary life was solved, all through the magie influence of 'Needie and Thread.'