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Show A SCREW LOOSE. By "Eleanor Kirk." Ichabod Lane, the "farm bond," advanced slowly. His eyes were cast down, and a stoop of the broad shoulders gave him a slouching appearance, which one glance at the really fine and intelligence have immediately contradicted. "Is there anything I can do?" he inquired in a preoccupied manner. "I'll tell you what you can do, Ich?" said William. "Tear the stove to pieces. You've hosted Uncle William's pumpkin pie and now you'd better finish up." "I-I-did what?" Ichabod inquired, looking at each member of the group in turn. "That's what you did!" said Mrs. Kingsley, pointing to the pie. The young man advanced and surveyed the ruin. "Why, it's been spilled!" he remarked, after a careful examination. "Yes, Ichabod and I did it!" said Maud, almost too angry to control herself "but it seems that mother prefers to blame you even at the expense of the truth. Oh! I did hope," she went on, with a quiver of her sweet young voice, "that we might have one day in the year without a quarrel." "Never mind, Miss Maud," said Ichabod, with a rare smile. "If you did it, it was an accident, and if I did it, I surely didn't mean to." "Perhaps you think that not meaning to will bring the pumpkin back to that pie" said Mrs. Kingsley, in a white heat. "Ich looks to the moon too much!" said Master William. "I woke up last night mother, and most all of him was out the window. I couldn't see nothing but just his boots." "Mother, won't you make William stop?" said Maud. "Don't let this thing go on any further, please, mother," the little peacemaker added. "If you do, the whole day will be spoiled." "I expect mother," and now William set his teeth to work on a doughnut "that the first thing we'll know, Maud and Ich will be eloping like Annie King and Jim ??. Ichabod had just deposited an armful of wood in the box, and now without the slightest trace of anger in face or manner, walked slowly toward the young reprobate. "William," he began, "if you ever make such a remark as that again I shall tell your father, and if he doesn't punish you I will." "You will?" said William, somewhat cowed by this most unusual behavior on the part of the "half-witted" Ichabod. "What will you do?" "I'm a little interested in that!" said Mrs. Kingsley, advancing with a potato in one hand and a knife in the other. "What will you do, Ichabod?" "It will be time to decide when he repeats the offence." said the farm hand. "But I'm not afraid of his doing it." To this there was no answer. Ichabod's thoughts had evidently flown to more agreeable subjects, and when Maud saw the far off look come into the patient eyes she picked up her duster and walked away to finish her work. Maud Kingsley was only fifteen, but she was the only friend poor Ichabod had in the house. Mr. William Kingsley, just now momentarily expected at the farm had shown some interest in this poor relation, but as he never visited his brother's family excepting at Thanksgiving time, he had apparently small opportunity of showing his friendship. Maud's father treated his farm hand with civility, but never interfered with the domestic machinery on which the long-suffering Ichabod was most cruelly entangled. Poor Maud! she dusted the furniture it is true, and she might also have washed it with her tears. Every day saw just such scenes as these, and the proud-spirited, kind-hearted and truly conscientious girl felt her soul swell with indignation. Ichabod Lane stood to her as the embodiment of all that was gentle, patient and good. Time after time she had come upon him praying for strength to bear the treatment of her relatives-help to forgive them. Ichabod Lane, who had never had a day's schooling in his life, was so far ahead of her as to be able to lend her a helping hand or head out of all her mathematical tangles, as well as her troubles in syntax and prosody. Mrs. Kingsley attached no weight to these facts. She knew of a "whole idiot" who had once learned to read, so she said, and it was entirely logical to suppose that if a whole idiot could learn to read, a half idiot could commit the multiplication table. When Maud entered the kitchen again, a strange sight met her eyes. Master William lay at full length on the kitchen table, so convulsed with laughter as to be almost black in the face, while Mrs. Kingsley, also very much amused, sat by the kitchen window resting herself after her hard morning's work. At the sink, his shirt sleeves turned back, a calico apron protecting his clothes, stood Ichabod washing dishes. This was the first time the young man had been asked to do such work as this, and Maud, understanding her mother's motive to be a further humiliation of the already humiliated Ichabod, stood for a moment like one petrified. At last the girl's indignation found utterance. "Mother, did you tell Ichabod to wash those dishes?" she asked with flashing eyes. "Yes, I did," said Mrs. Kingsley, calmly, "you had got dressed up and I was tired." "Ichabod, give me that apron and come away this minute," said Maud, attempting to undo the knot, which her mother had tied. "That is my work, and I was just coming to do it." "Please don't," said the young man with a smile. "I'm nearly through, Miss Maud." "It is a burning shame" said the girl, bursting into tears. "Ichabod," she added, pulling at the apron strings again, "if you don't come away, I'll never speak to you again as long as I live." "Your mother told me to do this," said Ichabod gently, "and I must finish. Why, Miss Maud," he added, "it don't make any difference to me what I do so long as I know I am right." At that moment Mr. Kingsley drove up with his brother William, and in a twinkling both gentlemen were in the kitchen. The master of the house seemed somewhat surprised at the condition of things, but Uncle William seemed not only surprised but very much annoyed. "Good gracious, Mary!" he exclaimed, addressing his sister-in-law, "can't you find work enough for Ichabod to do without setting him to washing dishes?" "There were dishes to wash, and nobody to wash ‘em," said Mrs. Kingsley doggedly. "Come away from that, Ichabod!" Uncle William ordered. "I've got some news to tell you," he added "so be quick about it." Ichabod washed the last pan and put it away, then washed his hands and gave one to his friend. "Ichabod," the gentleman resumed with considerable feeling, "this is Thanksgiving day, and if ever a fellow had cause to be thankful, you are that fellow. It is my opinion you have been ‘faithful over the few things,' and as true as you live, my boy, you'll be ‘ruler over many.' Ichabod Lane! your patent has gone through and, as you gave me full power of attorney, I have already sold five thousand dollars worth of the things." "What things?" said Mrs. Kingsley, springing from her chair, her face ablaze. "Some little screws," Mr. Kingsley replied. "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell you, but, small as they are, they are big enough to give Ichabod an independent fortune in two years from date." "When has all this been going on?" Mr. Kingsley inquired. "While you have been scolding!" Uncle William responded with a good-natured laugh. Ichabod has been studying and working, and I've been helping him." The patentee was the only one who did not seem quite overcome with surprise. Maud threw herself into her uncle's arms and laughed and cried unrestrainedly. "Why under the sun don't you say something Ichabod?" Uncle William inquired after a while. "I don't think there's much to say," the young man replied. "You see sir, I knew I should get it if it was best for me to have it." "And if you hadn't got it, what then?" Uncle William asked. "I would gladly have gone without it," said Ichabod. "Who would have thought it?" said Mrs. Kingsley musingly, as she dished the Thanksgiving dinner, "an independent fortune out of a little screw! Just as likely as not he'd never have thought of it if he hadn't had a screw loose himself."-The Century. |