THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
March 11 
176 
JANET THORN'S TEMPER. 
MBS. F. M. HOWARD. 
Chap. V. 
“ Wall, I’ve heard of you,” he answered 
facetiously. “Seen your name in the 
paper, an’ that you had a reaper to sell.” 
“ Oh, yes,” Janet looked quite relieved. 
She had forgotton the small newspaper 
notoriety the advertisement had given 
her. “ So you are come to see about the 
reaper ?” 
“ Wall, yes. I wanted to see if I couldn’t 
start a sort of a little dicker with you. 
I’ve got an organ—a rattling good Estey 
now, an’ don’t you forget it, with a row 
o’ little iv’ry knobs across the front on’t. 
“ There’s a stool too and a kiver, so the 
whole thing’s right hang up complete. 
Tben the noise she’ll make—bless your 
soul, ma’m, you can’t hear yourself think 
when she’s agoin’,” turning to Mrs. Thorn 
as if that quality were the crowning re¬ 
commendation for the instrument. 
Janet’s eyes brightened and glowed as 
the description went on—how strange it 
seemed after all her years of longing 
that this opportunity should come to her 
very door without knowledge or effort of 
her own. Still her caution would not 
allow her to snap at the prize too greedily. 
“ Why do you wish to sell it then, if 
it is such a fine instrument ?” 
“Wall, I’ll tell you. I bought it two 
year ago for my da’ter Maarthy, an’ she’d 
jest got where she c’d jest make it stan’ 
up an’ holler—my ! her hands would fly 
over them keys like lightnin’ now, they 
would, an’ then she took a notion to go 
into Chicago a-visitin’ a friend o’ hers, 
an’ that’s the last of ’er. A rich lawyer 
there gobbled ’er up in less’n no time. 
My Maarthy’s a mighty pritty gal now, 
if she is my da’ter,” smoothing his rough 
visage in a deprecating fashion. “ He 
was in sech a tantrum, she didn’t give 
me only two months’ notice on buyin’ the 
trossow, an’ seein’s her man made her a 
weddin’ present of a grand pianny she 
allowed best to leave the organ to hum. 
Wall—someways 1 don’t like the sight 
on’t a-sittln’ there so still like, an’ nobody 
to play on’t. Keeps me a-thinkin’ how 
Maarthy ought to come in an’ set down 
to’t, an’ I tells my woman, sez I, ‘ We 
wouldn’t think of her so much if ’twas 
gone entirely ! ’ ” The rugged face 
twitched, and something seemed to dim 
his sight for a moment. 
“ But how did you know I wanted an 
organ ?” 
“ My woman swaps visits sometimes 
with Mis’ Briggs, an’ she let on mebbe 
you’d trade—so I brought it right along 
with me and it’s out in the wagon this 
minit. You kin keep it a week an’ try 
it, or get some musicians to try it for ye, 
an’ then we’ll make our dicker arfter- 
wards — sorter arbitrate the case as 
’twere. I expect there’ll be some boot 
to pay between it and the reaper.” 
Janet could scarcely restrain her im¬ 
patience to see the charming burden 
which the sturdy farmer, with Jimmy’s 
assistance, was unloading from the high 
wagon in the yard. She entirely forgot 
to eat her own breakfast through her 
excitement, and the fire would have gone 
quite out had not Mrs. Thorn, to whom 
a musical instrument was not an object 
of ambition, laid on fresh coal. 
“’Tain’t the showiest case you ever 
seen most likely,” he was undoing the 
wrapping of blanket and carpet with 
which it was guarded, “ but there’s 
mighty good work inside on’t. It isn’t 
always the highest steppin’ hoss that kin 
travel the fastest. That there beast out 
on my wagon now, a-throwin’ ’is head up 
an’ a-pawin’ round as ef he was in a per¬ 
fect teeter to be on the go—he’ll prance 
off as ef he was goin’ to beat the nation 
fer speed, but that there humble lookin’ 
little creetur beside ’im, she’ll do the 
heft of the pullin’ every time. Then you 
take ’er alone on a trot and, zip she goes, 
clean out o’ sight of him. You see he 
steps high and puts on lots o’ style, but 
it’s mostly all show. So when I bought 
this here organ I sez to the music feller, 
sez I: 
“ ‘ Now look a-here, I don’t want none 
of y’r patent cases that’s sort of a music 
box, an’ book-case, an’ dressin’ bureau 
combined, but I want the fine work put 
on the inside where it belongs.’ And I 
got it too. Ain’t that a round, meller 
tone for ye ?” He set down and ran his 
long fingers over the keys with decidedly 
more energy than grace or harmony. 
“ Look at them keys now—white as a 
set o’ store teeth, and they won’t turn 
yeller and rattling either with any sort 
o’ care ” 
The organ “ dicker,” was practically 
decided in Janet’s mind from the moment 
the plain rich case containing the 
“ meller” tones which vibrated through 
her very soul, was pushed back into its 
niche in the sitting-room, glorifyingthat 
simple apartment in the girl’s eyes until 
it seemed as if she could never be weary 
or unhappy again with this beautiful 
element of cheer in her possession. 
“ Come, J’net, you haven’t had a bite of 
breakfast yet, and like as any way Mr. 
Gunther’s hungry again.” 
Mrs. Thorn had been improving the 
moments of Janet’s rapture in heating 
the neglected griddle, and making ready 
more hot cakes. 
“ Well, I don’t know but I could make 
away with a bite er two. Them cakes 
smell lickin' good, ma’am.” 
Mr. Gunther’s “bite” proved a somewhat 
portentous affair, as cake after cake dis¬ 
appeared with astonishing rapidity. 
Happily Janet’s content was better 
than breakfast, or Mrs. Thorn could 
never have baked fast enough to supply 
the demand. 
“ Don’t mind if I du have a drop o’ 
coffee. My woman’s threfty on coffee her¬ 
self, but I snum, your’n beats hers if the 
smell on’t tells the story.” 
The “ drop” corresponded excellently 
well with the “bite” Mr. Gunther had 
taken, but fortunately even his appetite 
had limits, and he leaned back at last 
with a satisfied smile upon his counten¬ 
ance. 
“ I’ll tell what I’ll do, Miss Thorn ; I’ll 
give you two of the dang-up-edest Jersey 
cows you ever see fer boot in that ere 
trade. I told my woman a spell ago, 
sez I, ‘ Now look a-here, Susan—you’ve 
worked hard for 25 year, and now that 
we’re forehanded enough to live comf’- 
table without so much drivin’, sez I, why 
I’m jest agoin’ to get rid of the cows and 
take a pardner on the outside work of 
the farm, an’ you'n’ me’ll rest up a little, 
an’ get sorter acquainted with each other 
as ’twere.’ 
“She sorter hung back, an’t seemed 
to like it made ’er feel lonesome-like, 
thinkin’ o’ givin’ up the butter makin’, 
but when I git sot on a thing I’m pretty 
stubbed, and there hain’t but three cows 
left on the farm, an’ two o’ them’s your’n 
if you say so.” 
Jimmy stood by his sister’s side in the 
evening, while she laboriously picked 
out a simple melody upon the instru¬ 
ment. She looked up wistfully. “Ought 
I to afford it, Jimmy ?” 
“ Yes. You deserve it and should have 
had it long ago. Father had it in his 
mind for you, and if he was here he 
would say yes, I’m sure.” 
Her eyes filled with tears “ Poor 
father ! He was good and kind, and if I 
had coaxed more and scolded less things 
might have gone differently.” 
Jimmy’s arm stole about her for she 
was sobbing over the keys, “ I was like 
the c-cat; she’s r-ready to s-spit and 
scratch in a m-moment if h-ber fur is 
brushed the w-wrong way.” 
“Well you’ve had enough of that sort 
of brushing,” said Jimmy, soothingly, 
“ pa and I were a terrible trial to you—I 
can see it now,:but I’m trying to whip up 
my easy nature as hard as you are trying 
to curb your temper, and between the 
two perhaps we shall turn out quite a 
respectable pair.” 
Janet sent word to Mr. Gunther during 
the week to bring in the Jerseys, the 
“dicker” was satisfactorily made, and 
the heavy reaper rumbled out of the 
yard, leaving behind it far different 
feelings from those it had brought in, as 
Janet patted her sleek Jerseys and 
thought of her beloved music in the 
house. (To be Continued.) 
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