HYPOCRITICAL 
 ROMANCE AN 
 OTHER STORIE 
 
 !BY 
 
 ICAROUNE T1CKNOR

 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES
 
 "'DO YOU THINK ME SO DKYOTRD TO WAGNER?'"
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL 
 ROMANCE 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES 
 
 BY 
 
 CAROLINE TICKNOR 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 JOSF.l'H KNIf.HT COMPANY 
 1896
 
 Copyright, iSqb 
 BY JOSEPH KNIGHT COMPANY 
 
 C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped by Geo. C. Scott * Sons.
 
 TO MY 
 
 SEVEREST CRITIC AND BEST FRIEND 
 
 fflg Sister 
 
 THIS SMALL VOLUME 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 2200629
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 THE author's thanks are due to Messrs. Harper and 
 Brothers, and to the publishers of the Cosmopolitan and New 
 England Magazines for the use of several of the stories con- 
 tained in this volume.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE i 
 II. THE FATE OF CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTS- 
 MAN 35 
 
 III. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED . . 61 
 
 IV. A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE . . 77 
 V. MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY 95 
 
 VI. THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET . . .109 
 
 VII. MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC 147 
 
 VIII. A BAG OF POP-CORN 161 
 
 IX. THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON . . . .181 
 
 X. THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT . . 207 
 
 XI. A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA . . 219 
 
 XII. A HALLOWE'EN PARTY 233
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "'DO YOU THINK ME SO DEVOTED TO WAGNER?'" 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 " THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON HE WENT SAILING 
 
 ALONE" 47 
 
 " ' No BUSINESS TO-MORROW, MY DEAR '" . . 95 
 
 " ' FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, BE YOU AMANDA?'" . . 175 
 
 VIEW OF BECK HALL, CAMBRIDGE .... 233
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE 
 
 IT was rather to my credit than otherwise, that I 
 first became a hypocrite, since it was wholly 
 owing to my natural amiability and unselfishness 
 of disposition. 
 
 As I look back upon the first stages of my 
 development in that direction, I find it in every 
 way a most commendable deterioration which sprang 
 from a kindly desire to please and to conciliate, and 
 not from a natural tendency to deceive or falsify. 
 
 When Aunt Sophia, whose whole soul is wrapped 
 up in music, came to visit us, somebody must 
 needs sit by and be politely appreciative while she 
 rendered Chopin and Mendelssohn, or interpreted 
 Mozart and Schumann with that true enthusiasm 
 which fails to recognize the foolish flight of time. 
 All the other members of our family openly avowed 
 their keen dislike for music, and quietly but speedily 
 withdrew to distant corners of the house whenever 
 Aunt Sophia began to play, leaving me to suffer 
 patiently, propped in some comfortless armchair in 
 the drawing-room, a most unwilling victim. 
 
 " I presume that it would be hard to find a more
 
 12 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 unmusical household anywhere," Aunt Sophia would 
 remark, sharply, turning about to find that one by 
 one the members of the family had melted from the 
 room, during some favorite sonata which should 
 have held them spellbound in their respective 
 places. 
 
 " It is a sad thing for any one to have no delicate 
 perception of what is most beautiful and elevating," 
 she would continue, " but it is utterly lamentable for 
 a whole family to be found wanting in the highest 
 attributes." 
 
 At this point, I would protest that father had 
 important letters to write, and mother household 
 duties which she must attend to, while George was 
 obliged to study his Latin. 
 
 " Don't try to excuse them," Aunt Sophia would 
 exclaim, " they have not an atom of music in their 
 souls, and, when I have said that, I have exhausted 
 all that can be said in their defense." 
 
 "But, Aunt Sophia," I would feebly venture, 
 longing to follow George up to the billiard-room, 
 whence the click of balls was wafted to me during 
 the pianissimo passages, " I 'm afraid that I have 
 not very much music in my soul, either." To 
 which she would make answer : " Don't detract 
 from your natural gifts, Elizabeth ; you are quite 
 different from all the others. You have the genuine 
 musical temperament. I recognized the fact when 
 you were but a mere infant in arms ; even then you
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 13 
 
 were appreciative, you cried loudly when I came 
 to a deeply pathetic passage of Beethoven's, you 
 responded instantly to the wild sob in the notes, so 
 that your nurse was forced to bear you screaming 
 from the room." 
 
 After such a rebuke, I would sink back into my 
 chair with desperate resignation, and try to take cat- 
 naps while Aunt Sophia continued her interpre- 
 tations, until callers or luncheon brought me the 
 coveted release. Many a time have I sat rigidly 
 against the stiff, unsympathetic sofa cushions in 
 the drawing-room, sternly philosophizing on the 
 selfishness of frank and truthful souls : apostles of 
 sincerity, who would not pretend, though, by so 
 doing, they could mollify all strife and bring joy 
 and good -will to all mankind. 
 
 I was conscious of being in perfect sympathy with 
 every uncomplimentary utterance which father and 
 George let fall regarding the great composers; in 
 fact, I felt I was probably more actively antagonistic 
 to these honorable gentlemen than they were, for I 
 knew enough of Aunt Sophia's idols to hate them 
 individually. Father and George merely despised 
 them as a whole, while I cherished one form of hatred 
 for Wagner, and another for old Johann Sebastian 
 Bach ; my forced acquaintance with them gave me 
 power to discriminate in my dislikes, and I found 
 Mendelssohn's " Songs Without Words " unbearable 
 in quite a different way from Chopin's nocturnes.
 
 14 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 And yet I had often unblushingly assured Aunt 
 Sophia that certain pieces were " exquisitely beauti- 
 ful," after having surreptitiously read some carefully 
 concealed novel through the entire performance. 
 This was a line of conduct which, I must own, 
 lowered me in my own estimation, though I mentally 
 commented that I was not untruthful in my state- 
 ment, since, undoubtedly, the pieces were "exqui- 
 sitely beautiful " to Aunt Sophia. 
 
 On the strength of my musical temperament, I 
 greatly endeared myself to her, and was rewarded 
 for my unselfishness by costly rings at Christmas, 
 or pearl opera-glasses and gold vinaigrettes upon 
 my birthdays, while the other members of the family 
 were meted out the penalty attendant upon unsym- 
 pathetic natures. Aunt Sophia sent them decorative 
 cards, impossible penwipers, and gilt-edged diaries, 
 or little painted picture-frames, which would not 
 stand upright, and into which no pictures could be 
 made to fit. 
 
 But Aunt Sophia also favored me with a seat 
 beside her at the symphony rehearsals, which privi- 
 lege I could n't very well refuse, and this, in the 
 eyes of those at home, more than offset innumerable 
 vinaigrettes and rings. 
 
 How I dreaded Friday afternoons ! And how 
 much oftener they came round than any other after- 
 noons ! If I could get up a headache, or go out of 
 town, or in any way avoid the weekly ordeal, I did
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 1 5 
 
 so with alacrity, although I never allowed Aunt 
 Sophia to imagine that anything short of grim 
 necessity could keep me from her side. 
 
 It was, of course, hypocritical to the last degree 
 to make her think that she was giving me so much 
 pleasure when I was counting off each number on 
 the program with barbaric gratitude, and murmur- 
 ing to myself, " one more over ; " but, after all, if it 
 gave her satisfaction to imagine that because the 
 ninth symphony lifted her up to the seventh heaven 
 of bliss, it was elevating me to the same altitude, 
 why should I undeceive her ? 
 
 I used to manage to get delayed, in one way or 
 another, almost every Friday, so as to avoid the 
 overture, appearing in good season just often enough 
 to avert suspicion. As it was, I succeeded in con- 
 vincing Aunt Sophia that the line of cars on which 
 I was dependent must be in a deplorably misman- 
 aged condition, and, in spite of my assurances that in 
 a crowded thoroughfare blockades were unavoidable, 
 she persisted in writing several scathing protests to 
 the evening papers, headed : " The Grievance of a 
 Music Lover. " Whenever I was obliged to listen 
 to an overture, I invariably had some pressing en- 
 gagement which would not permit me to remain 
 after the first movement of the symphony, so that, on 
 the whole, my sufferings were considerably abridged. 
 
 Aunt Sophia was not, however, contented with 
 having me beside her at symphony concerts only,
 
 1 6 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 but insisted that I should accompany her to recitals, 
 oratorios, delightful little musicales, and many other 
 entertainments of like objectionable character. 
 Thus I had many rare chances which would have 
 turned any lover of music green with envy, and of 
 which I availed myself like a lamb prepared for the 
 slaughter. 
 
 Do not let me give the impression that these oc- 
 casions were entirely seasons of unmitigated suffer- 
 ing for me. No, I was able to extract enough 
 pleasure from them, in my own peculiar way, to 
 make my musical life tolerable, else I could never 
 have been such a successful hypocrite. 
 
 In the first place, I soon schooled myself to a 
 high level of mental tranquillity, which made it pos- 
 sible for me to close my ears altogether to outward 
 sounds; in this blissful state, concertos and polo- 
 naises floated by me, and I remained unharmed; 
 I heard them not. 
 
 I would sit absorbed in my own pleasant medita- 
 tions regarding the proper treatment of an Easter 
 bonnet, or the artistic draping of a party gown, for 
 half an hour at a time, serenely unconscious of the 
 orchestra, which might have interpreted anything 
 from Brahms to " Yankee Doodle," without troub- 
 ling me. Occasionally Aunt Sophia would remark 
 that it was a pleasure, during the different move- 
 ments, to watch the feeling of the orchestra reflected 
 in a sensitive face like mine. At such times I could
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. I/ 
 
 not help experiencing a pang of remorse, but I re- 
 garded it as only fair to my aunt that I should be 
 the one to suffer for the deception, so I endured the 
 pricks of conscience, and spared her the humiliating 
 truth. I could not really blame myself very much, 
 on second thoughts, however, for it was not my fault 
 if Aunt Sophia, with her great powers of discrimina- 
 tion, could not distinguish between the reflection of 
 a trio in B major and that of a new Easter bonnet. 
 
 After a while I came to find the music a perfect 
 inspiration to me. If I had been worried or troubled 
 by some complex question which I found it difficult 
 to answer, I had only to give myself up to the influ- 
 ence of some stirring symphony, and instantly all 
 was well, my mind would clear without delay, and 
 the vexed questions would straighten themselves out 
 at once. As I sat calmly by Aunt Sophia's side, 
 one delightful train of thought would follow another, 
 through a charmed sequence, which extended on and 
 on until it reached the final squeak of the violins. 
 
 I planned Christmas presents for my friends, laid 
 out my summer wardrobe, checked off my calling 
 list, or thoughtfully reviewed my latest favorite book, 
 or again, I faithfully recalled the numerous recipes 
 I had acquired at cooking school, and wondered if 
 they would turn out the same at home, or else went 
 over my part in the theatricals which our church 
 was getting up to help the cause of Foreign Mis- 
 sions.
 
 1 8 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 From time to time, my chain of thought was 
 broken in upon by long bursts of applause, in which 
 I always tried to join, until I found that many 
 choice spirits regarded clapping as something quite 
 apart from a high order of appreciation ; this knowl- 
 edge was a great relief to me, and, ever after, I sim- 
 ply sighed and looked off dreamily into space. 
 This method gave Aunt Sophia as much satisfaction 
 as if I had rapped crudely on the floor with my um- 
 brella, and was a great saving on my gloves. 
 
 I derived a good deal of satisfaction from the 
 regulation house musicales to which we went (apart 
 from the refreshments), as I could almost always 
 slip away from my aunt's side and find a seat, either 
 in a far distant corner of the hall, or on the stairs, 
 where I invariably encountered several kindred 
 spirits, also bent upon enjoying themselves. Often 
 we succeeded in withdrawing far enough up-stairs 
 to talk straight through, without disturbing any 
 one. 
 
 At home, alas, I was considered thoroughly musi- 
 cal; this being the only construction which could 
 be put upon my regular attendance at symphony 
 rehearsals ; and for this reason I was mercilessly 
 thrust into the breach whenever any musical people 
 came to the house. 
 
 " Elizabeth is the musical member of this family," 
 mother would remark, with satisfaction, as she with- 
 drew, leaving me to enjoy a new collection of Ital-
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 19 
 
 ian songs, which Cousin Louisa had thoughtfully 
 brought forth from the depths of her Saratoga 
 trunk. 
 
 Then father, aways anxious to give pleasure to 
 his children, actually invited to the house rising 
 composers and long-haired students of harmony with 
 whom, forsooth, I needs must struggle through woe- 
 fully tedious conversations regarding their pet 
 theme, while strains of merry laughter harassed me 
 from the frivolous groups about the room. 
 
 Even George, who should have understood me 
 better than the rest, brought home with him from 
 college prominent members of the glee club, and 
 friends who played the mandolin by the hour, to 
 whose performances the family listened resignedly 
 on my account, when I should have so much pre- 
 ferred to welcome the most insignificant member of 
 the football team. 
 
 Under these circumstances, one would reasonably 
 imagine that I must have gradually grown veritably 
 musical, but I did not. On the contrary, I cared 
 less and less for a violin each time I heard one 
 played, disliked a piano more and more daily, felt 
 my aversion to a 'cello constantly strengthening, 
 while my contempt for even a cabinet organ steadily 
 increased, and so on through the whole list of 
 these instruments of torture, not to mention the 
 vocalist, toward whom my attitude was still less 
 friendly.
 
 20 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 But now the retribution, which for the sake of po- 
 etic justice (not the other kind) should overtake all 
 hypocrites, descended upon me. When I realized 
 what had happened, I was for a time perfectly 
 aghast; then I rallied, and made up my mind to 
 face the inevitable and make the best of it. 
 
 Oh, ruthless fate ! I had fallen in love with a 
 man after Aunt Sophia's own heart : a man whose 
 whole soul was bound up in music. Could anything 
 more unfortunate have happened to me, or anything 
 more grievously grotesque ? 
 
 For a long time I struggled against my natural in- 
 clination, and did my best to root up such a mis- 
 placed fancy from my heart. I knew full well that 
 I could never be happy with an intensely musical 
 helpmate. Why, then, should I doom myself to life- 
 long wretchedness? I would not. I would shun 
 his society; I would not see him when he came to 
 call. I gave strict injunctions to the maid to this 
 effect, telling her that when he came she was to say 
 that I was not at home. 
 
 But it was no use, my admirable resolutions van- 
 ished into thinnest air the very first time I saw him 
 coming up the street, and, fearing lest my heartless 
 instructions should be implicitly carried out, I ran 
 down and let him in before he had a chance to ring 
 the bell, and then pretended (alas, how easily I can 
 pretend!) that I was just passing through the hall, 
 wholly by accident.
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 21 
 
 I felt convinced that I could never be happy with 
 him, and yet I seemed to feel that I should be 
 equally miserable without him ; therefore, since I 
 was destined to be unhappy in either case, I con- 
 cluded I might as well be wretched in his society. 
 Then I told the maid to understand that, when he 
 came to call, I was not at home "to anybody 
 else." 
 
 But I am getting along much too rapidly with 
 my narrative. I have n't mentioned where it was I 
 first met Winthrop ; his name is Winthrop, Winthrop 
 Van der Water ; such a nice name ; a happy combi- 
 nation of the best in Boston and New York. 
 
 But to think that I should have seen him first at a 
 symphony rehearsal, leaning against a radiator near 
 the wall, not far from where Aunt Sophia and I were 
 seated. 
 
 I had been trying to make up my mind, during 
 some Russian music, whether to have a girls' lunch- 
 eon for Cousin Louisa, or a card-party in the even- 
 ing, when suddenly I became conscious that some 
 one was watching me, and I glanced up hurriedly 
 to meet a clear and penetrating gaze which seemed 
 to read my very soul and fathom all my frivolous 
 thoughts of card-parties and luncheons. 
 
 Tall, handsome, interesting, he stood with his 
 head thrown back, drinking in every note of that 
 wild, crashy Russian music, as though his life de- 
 pended upon the verdict of the orchestra. I knew
 
 22 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 him instantly for one of those genuine enthusiasts 
 who prefer the concerts when there are no soloists, 
 and who pay a quarter of a dollar and, with a 
 dreamy indifference to having people trample on 
 their toes, enjoy their music standing up. 
 
 I glanced at him once or twice during the sym- 
 phony, just to see if my theory regarding his being a 
 true devotee was correct, and sure enough it was, 
 for he stayed to the very end of the final movement. 
 I had intended to leave before the second move- 
 ment myself, but I decided to stay just to test my 
 own powers of perception in regard to musical 
 types. , 
 
 He interested me as a clearly defined specimen, 
 whom I could satisfactorily analyze. He had a pon- 
 derous looking book under his arm, which he 
 opened from time to time, this was a score of the 
 music, of course ; then he wrote something down 
 with a pencil occasionally, these were comments 
 upon the rendering of certain passages, no doubt. 
 I came to the conclusion that he was studying har- 
 mony, and therefore came regularly to the rehears- 
 als, while he probably played some instrument with 
 intelligence and feeling. 
 
 The following Friday brought proof of the cor- 
 rectness of my surmises, for my musical friend was 
 there again, in precisely the same spot; and after 
 that I used to see him there regularly, apparently 
 wrapped up in the music, with his eyes fixed upon
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 2$ 
 
 the score -book. Quite often, I thought I caught 
 him staring at Aunt Sophia, and I wondered if he 
 recognized a kindred spirit in her. 
 
 I could not help wondering if I could possibly 
 learn to enjoy music in that way, and I began to 
 endeavor conscientiously to enter into the spirit of 
 every piece, but it was no use. Perhaps if I had 
 begun sooner I might have succeeded, but now 
 it was too late. The more I tried to be appre- 
 ciative and sympathetic, the less I became so, 
 until I really made myself feel quite depressed 
 and wretched. 
 
 One afternoon, I went with Aunt Sophia to a 
 "music at four," " camp-stool" affair which we 
 reached somewhat later than my aunt intended we 
 should, and earlier than I hoped we might, owing 
 to a friendly motor on the electric car which refused 
 to make the wheels go round for nearly half an hour. 
 Aunt Sophia was very much annoyed, as she con- 
 siders it an insult to one's hostess to go late to 
 camp-stool entertainments ; moreover, she likes to 
 have her choice of seats. 
 
 I don't think myself that it makes a particle of 
 difference when one arrives at a camp-stool recep- 
 tion, for, go as early as you may, they have always 
 begun. Some one is singing, no matter at what 
 time the drawing-room is reached, and all the other 
 people, who have apparently been there for hours, 
 look up with annoyance as you enter and make an
 
 24 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 unpardonable racket trying to sink noiselessly into 
 a vacant chair, toward which your hostess nods with 
 a pained smile. 
 
 If, by chance, you manage to slip in during an in- 
 termission, and are about to shake hands, and let 
 fall some cordial utterance, my lady puts her finger 
 impressively to her lips, as she points to some in- 
 strumental celebrity who is about to inflict himself 
 upon the assembled company, and with an apolo- 
 getic blush you subside uncomfortably into the 
 nearest seat. 
 
 On the afternoon in question, somebody motioned 
 Aunt Sophia to a front seat that was unoccupied, 
 and I at once slipped into the hall, determined to 
 steal up-stairs and wait in the dressing-room, I felt 
 so cross and unmusical. My escape was cut off, 
 however, by our hostess, who touched my arm : 
 "There will be some more chairs here in a mo- 
 ment," she whispered, much to my discomfiture, 
 and then who should appear but my symphony 
 man, laden with camp-stools. 
 
 " I want you to know my nephew, Winthrop Van 
 der Water," she whispered, and a moment later he 
 had opened a chair for me, and sat down in another 
 at my side. 
 
 I was about to venture some remark to the effect 
 that I was sorry to have lost so much of the music, 
 when some one began a concerto and robbed the 
 world of one falsehood, which, however, would not
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 2$ 
 
 have materially increased the sum total for which I 
 am responsible already. 
 
 We both listened to the music with breathless at- 
 tention, and said how beautiful and delightful each 
 selection was. I would have rather talked all the 
 time, but I pretended I was enjoying it as much as 
 he was, and, indeed, I applauded one aria so warmly 
 that he insisted upon clapping until he brought 
 about an encore which served me just right. 
 
 He asked if I was fond of music, and I said, "oh, 
 yes," and he remarked that he already knew it, he 
 had seen me at so many concerts. Moreover, he 
 said that he could tell by watching people's faces 
 how much they were enjoying themselves. 
 
 I tried to be as truthful as I could, and replied 
 that I nearly always enjoyed myself. To which he 
 responded, most impertinently, that I must have per- 
 fect taste. At this point I was rather glad to have a 
 man get up and start a recitative. While he was 
 singing it, I determined that I would not admit to 
 Mr. Van der Water that I had ever noticed him at 
 the rehearsals, so, at the end of the recitative, I 
 ventured that I was surprised to know he had ever 
 seen me before, and inquired if he had attended the 
 last three or four concerts. 
 
 Then what do you think he said (after I had 
 seen him there every time with that big book)? 
 That he regretted he had been obliged to miss the 
 last three or four 1
 
 26 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 " Then you must have a double," I exclaimed, 
 foolishly, before I realized that he was only trying 
 to trap me into acknowledging that I had seen him 
 at the concerts, after all. At first I was inclined to 
 be provoked with him for such deception, but, on 
 second thoughts, I made up my mind to laugh it off. 
 Laughing things off is even better policy than 
 " honesty " itself, I find, for, if a thing is deeply im- 
 portant, it 's the surest method of concealment, and 
 if it 's not, why it 's the best fun. 
 
 Later, when the refreshments were served, I in- 
 troduced Mr. Van der Water to Aunt Sophia, and we 
 all talked violin recitals, and sopranos, and quartets, 
 until it was time to go home, and he seemed per- 
 fectly absorbed in every musical topic that Aunt 
 Sophia dragged into the conversation. 
 
 After that afternoon, we ran across him at almost 
 every musicale or concert that we attended, and he 
 invariably came out of the hall the same moment 
 we did, and found our carriage for us. He was so 
 polite and so musical that Aunt Sophia was per- 
 fectly charmed with him, and went so far as to ask 
 him to come to a poky little song recital that she was 
 to give in my honor, as I was visiting her for a few 
 weeks at that time. 
 
 He came, and found it most delightful (so he as- 
 sured Aunt Sophia), though I think that everybody 
 else must have had a frightfully stupid time. Cer- 
 tainly they all looked bored to death.
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 2? 
 
 Mr. Van der Water, however, must really have en- 
 joyed the song recital, for he came to call immedi- 
 ately afterwards to tell us how much pleasure we had 
 given him, and from that time he dropped in upon 
 us very often, and we had most delightful times, ex- 
 cept that he always brought the conversation round 
 to music (and when he did not introduce it I felt 
 obliged to, knowing how fond he was of holding 
 forth upon the subject), while Aunt Sophia, as a 
 matter of course, never spoke of anything else. 
 
 And so the long and the short of it was that we 
 talked music, music, music, and very little else 
 beside. Each time that he came to see us, I was 
 dragged in more deeply, until I felt that it would be 
 impossible ever to extricate myself from such a false 
 position. For, had I not pretended to share his 
 deep and true enthusiasm, and assumed that I 
 agreed with all his lovely theories regarding the 
 superiority of the musical soul ? 
 
 At last my position grew simply intolerable. I 
 could not go on forever making believe, I was not 
 hypocrite enough for that, so I determined to make 
 a clean breast of everything the next time that we 
 met. And then I postponed my confession until 
 the next time but one, and so on. 
 
 Finally, somebody sent Aunt Sophia three tickets 
 for a Wagner concert ; she was, of course, quite 
 charmed at the thought of hearing nothing but this 
 esteemed favorite's compositions for a whole even-
 
 28 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 ing, and in a moment of enthusiasm she suggested 
 asking Mr. Van der Water to act as our escort, in 
 order that he might share the treat in store for us. 
 
 He accepted, as I knew he would when he learned 
 what a heavy concert it was to be, and, when eight 
 o'clock arrived, we were all sitting stiffly erect in 
 those luxurious seats which the first balcony of our 
 beloved Music Hall affords, with our knees uncom- 
 fortably jammed against the seats in front, ready to 
 surrender ourselves to several hours of unalloyed 
 enjoyment. 
 
 There we sat, filled with different emotions : Aunt 
 Sophia brimful of expectant delight, Mr. Van der 
 Water apparently the same, while I remained silent 
 and glum ; the time had come for me to pretend no 
 more. 
 
 After three long pieces, through which I looked 
 as bored as I knew how, Aunt Sophia asked me if I 
 was not feeling well. To which I replied, wearily, 
 that I felt tired and very hot. Then our escort sug- 
 gested that, after the next number, we might step 
 out into the hall, where there was a greater supply 
 of oxygen. 
 
 At the end of the next piece, I said that I should 
 like a breath of air, and asked Aunt Sophia if she 
 would not come, too, but she declined, saying that 
 we might walk about, but for her part she did n't 
 care to risk losing the beginning of the next selec- 
 tion.
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 29 
 
 As I stepped out into the hallway, I drew a deep 
 sigh of relief, for I knew that I was about to free 
 myself of a great weight, which had been slowly 
 crushing me into a musical mockery. We sauntered 
 to an open door at the end of the hall and paused, 
 inhaling the cool breeze. 
 
 " That is the fire-escape out there," my companion 
 remarked, casually. 
 
 " Is it ? " I responded, absently, peering through 
 the doorway. 
 
 " Come and explore it," he urged, stepping out 
 and offering me his hand. " It 's a good plan for you 
 to know where to go in case of fire." 
 
 I followed, and we stood looking down into the 
 darkness. 
 
 " There is no luxury like pure air," I ventured, 
 inhaling a long breath and wondering if he consid- 
 ered it dangerous to let go of my hand, now that we 
 were standing in a comparatively safe spot. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, apparently unconscious of the 
 fact that he was crushing one of my rings into my 
 little finger, "one does not like to be suffocated, 
 even to the strains of Wagner." 
 
 I knew that the fatal moment had arrived. " Do 
 you think me so devoted to Wagner ? " I questioned, 
 faintly. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm quite sure of it," he replied. 
 
 " Then, know that it is not safe to be sure of any- 
 thing in this world," I exclaimed, drawing away my
 
 3<D A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 hand. "Do you want me to tell you the sober, 
 earnest truth for once, I hate Wagner hate him 
 hate him ! " 
 
 I could not see my companion's face as he stood 
 by my side, but I could eloquently imagine his 
 shocked expression. 
 
 " And not only Wagner, but all the other compos- 
 ers," I went on, chokingly ; " I hate and abhor them 
 all. I 'm not really musical, not the least in the 
 world, and I can't let you go on thinking that I 
 am" 
 
 " Is this true ; do you mean what you say ? " he 
 broke in, excitedly. 
 
 " Yes, only too true," I went on, hurriedly. " I 'm 
 a hollow sham, a false pretender; I drifted into it 
 all by trying to please Aunt Sophia, and it was so 
 hard to make up my mind to undeceive you. Be- 
 lieve me, Aunt Sophia is the only one in sympathy 
 with your beautiful musical ideas. I should be glad 
 if I never heard any more music never never ! 
 Now you may despise me all that you want to," I 
 concluded, stepping recklessly backward, and almost 
 precipitating myself through an opening in the fire- 
 escape. 
 
 " Elizabeth, dearest Elizabeth," he cried, catching 
 hold of me, "for heaven's sake be careful, unless 
 you want to kill yourself ! " 
 
 " You might despise me less, then," I murmured. 
 
 "What," he burst forth, vehemently, "do you
 
 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 3! 
 
 think that I could ever do anything but adore you ? 
 Nothing that you could possibly do would make 
 any difference in my feelings toward you ; moreover, 
 / am the one to be despised. I am the real pre- 
 tender, not you ! I am the utterly unscrupulous 
 deceiver. Your little, harmless pretenses were but 
 the sweet sacrificing of your own preferences to 
 another's, but mine were all put forth to gain my 
 own selfish ends, to make you care for me. Oh, 
 Elizabeth, I am not a whit more musical than you 
 are ! " 
 
 It was my turn now to stand mute with astonish- 
 ment while he went on. 
 
 " All my enthusiasm for music was just put on to 
 please you. Those were law books, and never 
 scores of the symphonies, you saw me carry. I 
 would not go across the street for all the old com- 
 posers in the world ! Do you suppose that I would 
 have stood through all those tedious concerts, except 
 to look at you ? I don't care a straw for the most 
 superb performance I only care for 
 
 But why should I chronicle anything so personal 
 as the confession of the second hypocrite ? 
 
 Aunt Sophia was vexed enough with us for stay- 
 ing away so long ; she said, moreover, that she 
 could not understand how anything short of a dead 
 faint could have kept us outside during the three 
 most beautiful selections on the program. She 
 added, severely, that we had lost the " Fire Music ; "
 
 32 A HYPOCRITICAL ROMANCE. 
 
 but my companion whispered that we had found 
 something infinitely better, namely, the fire-escape. 
 
 All the family are delighted that Winthrop is not 
 musical, but Aunt Sophia cannot forgive him as yet. 
 She persists in maintaining that I was always in- 
 tensely musical until I fell in love with a hypocriti- 
 cal young man, who first won my affections by his 
 false pretensions, and then used his wickedly ac- 
 quired influence to destroy that quality of artistic 
 appreciation which she had been years implanting 
 in my soul.
 
 THE FATE OF CLYDE MOOR- 
 FIELD, YACHTSMAN
 
 THE FATE OF CLYDE MOOR- 
 FIELD, YACHTSMAN 
 
 THERE were two things, besides himself, of 
 which Clyde Moorfield was passionately fond, 
 and these were yachting and young ladies. It was 
 a lamentable fact that his two preferences were often 
 hard to reconcile, because the young ladies who 
 suited his fastidious taste were apt to care little for 
 his favorite sport ; nevertheless, he generally man- 
 aged to find one or two who were first-class sailors 
 and who interested him as well, though the combi- 
 nation of these two requirements often gave him no 
 small amount of trouble. His definition of happiness 
 was a fine sailing breeze, a boat built after the most 
 approved models (one which could win him two or 
 three prizes every year), and a pretty girl who could 
 help him reef or be entrusted with the tiller from 
 time to time. 
 
 He had been disappointed in respect to this last 
 requisition so many times that he had come to make 
 it a point not to become interested in any girl until 
 he found out whether or not she was what he styled
 
 36 CLYDE MOOR FIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 " a true salt." If, after an introduction, he received 
 a negative reply to his invariable question, " Are 
 you fond of yachting ? " he soon excused himself, 
 and studiously avoided further advances in so un- 
 profitable a direction. 
 
 Moorfield had been studying law so assiduously 
 for two or three years that during the winter seasons 
 he allowed himself very little recreation, refusing all 
 invitations, and shunning society conscientiously. 
 In summer time, however, he tried to make up for 
 all this self-denial, and he usually succeeded in hav- 
 ing a blissfully selfish time. He knew that he was 
 very selfish, but he gloried in it ; he revelled in 
 pleasing himself exclusively, and he did not care 
 whether other people liked it or not. He would 
 not play euchre, nor help the older ladies out on 
 whist, nor make up a set of tennis, nor, in fact, do 
 anything but suit Mr. Clyde Moorfield ; and he con- 
 sidered that the sooner the majority of bores found 
 this out the better. He had not come away to 
 spend his vacation in entertaining people who did 
 not interest him, and he did not propose to do it. 
 
 He was handsome and lazy, and, in spite of his 
 failure to appreciate them as he should have done, 
 the girls simply adored him. Moorfield was a su- 
 perb waltzer ; but he said that " he did n't care to 
 dance in summer, " and only strolled into the danc- 
 ing hall occasionally to look on, when he would sit 
 and converse with the fortunate girl who pleased his
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 37 
 
 fancy, knowing full well that she would very much 
 like to dance, but never asking her to do so, because 
 he did n't care about it. 
 
 He never took out parties in his boat, having a 
 perfect horror of being surrounded by a lot of people 
 who lost off their hats and screamed whenever the 
 boat went about, and who brought lemons out with 
 them to prevent seasickness. He had no patience 
 with people who were seasick ; and a girl lost all 
 charm for him who was not proof against a ground 
 swell. He felt no sympathy for the poor sufferers 
 who begged to be allowed to lie down in the bottom 
 of the boat ; he only despised them. 
 
 The fortunate young women upon whom he 
 smiled did not fail to appreciate the favor, and an 
 invitation to sail with him was never refused, it 
 was too great an honor ; morever, the lucky recipi- 
 ent of it always took care to be promptly on hand 
 at the appointed hour, for Mr. Clyde Moorfield did 
 not like to be kept waiting. 
 
 He had demonstrated this fact on a memorable 
 occasion when one independent damsel upon whom 
 he had showered much attention had kept him 
 striding up and down the pier for a whole half-hour. 
 When she finally appeared, she found him calm and 
 affable as ever, and even more entertaining and 
 happy-go-lucky than usual, so that she experienced 
 a slight feeling of disappointment, having hoped to 
 ruffle him somewhat by the delay, which none of
 
 38 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 the other girls would have dared to inflict. Never- 
 theless, she thought she recognized in this amiability 
 a greater depth of devotion to her than she had even 
 dreamed of. Alas, her satisfaction was but short- 
 lived ; for never again did Clyde Moorfield ask her 
 to step over the gunwale of his dainty craft. He was 
 polite and even provokingly agreeable whenever they 
 met, but that was all ; he never joined her in her 
 promenade on the piazza, never sat beside her in 
 the dance hall ; in fact, he showed plainly from that 
 day that her society was no longer an item on his 
 nautical program. But after that few girls ever kept 
 the imperious yachtsman waiting ; and if by chance 
 anything delayed them a moment beyond the ap- 
 pointed time, they were profuse in their apologies. 
 
 Moorfield would sit lazily on the wharf by the 
 hour, talking to the sailors and splicing a bit of 
 rope, or fishing for perch, which he invariably pulled 
 in one after the other with the same ease that char- 
 acterized his performance of every other occupation. 
 Here he would remain, deaf to all entreaties to join 
 picnics or go on long drives to beautiful cascades. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Moorfield, do come with us this morn- 
 ing ! " a delegation of timid voices would venture 
 some auspicious day, when there was a dead calm 
 and sailing was out of the question, but without 
 success. He would thank them impressively for 
 their great kindness in asking him, and only regret 
 that his sail required some attention this morning,
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 39 
 
 or he would mention that he must run up to town 
 to get his rudder mended. It was an especial 
 pleasure for him at times to stroll up on to the 
 hotel piazza and watch the picnics start off, when 
 he would seat himself on the rail and view their 
 departure with an amused smile, congratulating 
 himself meanwhile that he was not obliged to ride 
 three on a seat for a dozen miles. He would watch 
 the young ladies come down one by one, all ready 
 for the day's outing, and would thoughtfully pick 
 out one from among them, and say to her, beseech- 
 ingly, just as she was about to step into the wagon, 
 " Oh, Miss Bangs, don't go on that old excursion, 
 but stay and sail around the outer light with me, 
 instead ; " and, ten to one, she would accept his in- 
 vitation on the spot, and desert the picnic without 
 further ceremony. It was no wonder that Clyde 
 Moorfield came to fancy that he was quite irresisti- 
 ble (though he really never shaped such a fancy 
 into so many words) ; for how could he help enter- 
 taining a fairly good opinion of a young fellow whom 
 other people valued so highly ? 
 
 It happened, at about four o'clock one very warm 
 afternoon (that hour sacred to after-dinner naps), 
 that Miss Rose Silsbee and Mr. Moorfield strolled 
 slowly up from the boat landing towards the hotel. 
 
 Rose was considered altogether too young by the 
 other girls, being only sixteen, but she could handle 
 a boat almost as skilfully as Moorfield himself, and
 
 4O CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 could splice a piece of rope or box the compass like 
 any old tar ; and so, in spite of her damaging lack 
 of years, she might have been seen almost daily at 
 the helm of a certain graceful white craft, while its 
 owner sat lazily by, giving her points on navigation, 
 as they flew across the harbor. 
 
 On this particular occasion, however, the sail had 
 been less of a success than usual, for the breeze had 
 wholly died out, and Moorfield had been obliged to 
 pull home, three miles against the tide, with one 
 great clumsy oar. Even the most fascinating com- 
 panionship loses some of its charm under these cir- 
 cumstances, and the two landed, hungry and cross, 
 realizing that dinner at so late an hour was an un- 
 known and probably unattainable quantity, as the 
 dining-room doors closed promptly at three. As 
 they reached the office several trunks were being 
 carried up-stairs, followed by bell-boys with umbrel- 
 las and shawls. 
 
 " Ha, some arrivals by the afternoon coach ! " 
 Moorfield ejaculated. " We 're in luck, for they will 
 have to be given some dinner; see, the door is 
 ajar." 
 
 Their spirits rose instantly at the prospect, and 
 Moorfield, tossing his cap on to the hat -rack, ush- 
 ered Miss Silsbee into the dining-room with a 
 flourish. 
 
 " Where will you sit, madam ? " he said, bowing. 
 
 "Hush," she cried, warningly; "don't you see
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 4! 
 
 we 're not the only ones in the room ? There are 
 two people over there who will take you for the 
 head waiter, in that blue yachting uniform. Oh, 
 look, look," she added, " I really believe they think 
 you are ! " 
 
 "Very well, I'll have a look at them," he re- 
 turned; and before she could stop him he had 
 pulled out her chair with all the dignity befitting 
 the presiding genius of the place ; then, with a mis- 
 chievous glance, he crossed the dining-room, to 
 where a very pretty girl was unmistakably beckon- 
 ing to him. 
 
 Had the light in the room been less dim, Moor- 
 field's yatching suit would hardly have passed 
 muster; but as it was, most of the shutters had 
 been closed for the purpose of getting out the flies, 
 and in the semi-darkness peculiarities in dress were 
 not easily detected. 
 
 The new arrival was even prettier on close in- 
 spection, having fluffy light hair and soft brown 
 eyes, and possessing an air of distinction which 
 made itself felt at once and compelled a certain 
 amount of homage from all who came under its 
 sway ; she also had, in a large degree, that indefin- 
 able quality known as style. An elderly woman, 
 whom she addressed as " auntie," was seated beside 
 her. 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to see where our din- 
 ner is ? " she said, as Moorfield approached.
 
 42 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 " Yes, we 've been waiting a long time," the aunt 
 put in, sharply. 
 
 " I am very sorry ; I will see that you are served 
 at once," he replied, trying to imitate the respectful 
 tone of the head waiter, and at the same time fixing 
 his gaze upon the niece. Then he possessed him- 
 self of a carafe, and deftly filled their glasses, quite 
 as if he were in the habit of performing this office 
 three times a day. After this he walked briskly 
 across the room to where Rose was smothering her 
 laughter. 
 
 " Oh, how could you ? " she cried. 
 
 " I could do more than that for such a pretty girl," 
 he responded. " Now I 'm going to see if we can't 
 have something ourselves. I 'm nearly starved. 
 Suppose we walk through into the little breakfast- 
 room, so as not to spoil the impression that I have 
 made in my new capacity." 
 
 While the hungry sailors were regaling themselves 
 in the small breakfast-room, Miss Lucy Wainwright 
 was remarking to her aunt, " What a very handsome 
 head waiter that was ! I presume he must be one 
 of those students we hear so much about." 
 
 "He did seem quite gentlemanly," her aunt re- 
 sponded, " but he was n't very attentive ; he did n't 
 come back to see if we had everything we wanted." 
 
 The Wainwrights had come down to be with 
 some cousins, who happened to sit at the very next 
 table to that which Mr. Clyde Moorfield graced
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 43 
 
 with his presence. When, therefore, at supper, he 
 strolled unconsciously across the dining-room and 
 dropped into his seat, resplendent in a boiled shirt 
 and cutaway, Miss Wainwright grasped her cousin's 
 arm. 
 
 " Who is that ? " she whispered, excitedly. 
 
 Her cousin told her. 
 
 "Is n't there a head waiter who looks just like 
 him ? " 
 
 " Why, no, indeed. What makes you ask ? " ques- 
 tioned the other. 
 
 "Well, then, I mistook him for a waiter," Miss 
 Wainwright said, desperately, and therewith pro- 
 ceeded to give an account of her afternoon's en- 
 counter. 
 
 " Oh, what a joke ! " laughed her cousin, " to 
 think that you should have taken the elegant Mr. 
 Moorfield for a waiter ! " 
 
 " It was a very mean thing for him to do," the 
 other said, in an injured tone, "very mean and 
 ungentlemanly, and I never want to see him 
 again." 
 
 " Oh, but he is the great beau of the hotel ! " 
 
 "That makes no difference to me. I can't bear 
 him, and I don't care to meet him ; so be kind 
 enough not to present him to me, for I don't wish 
 to be rude, and if you do present him, I shall be." 
 
 So it came to pass that several days elapsed, and 
 still Mr. Clyde Moorfield had not met the lovely
 
 44 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 Miss Wainwright. This was not his fault, for he had 
 made repeated efforts in that direction, without suc- 
 cess, for she was always disappearing whenever he 
 chanced to come up, or always starting off some- 
 where each time that he joined the group in which 
 she was. At first, Moorfield thought that this must 
 be accidental, but he presently perceived that it was 
 intentional ; and having reached this conclusion, he 
 determined to be no longer thwarted. It was a 
 novel sensation for him to feel that he was actually 
 being avoided he, who was used to having people 
 run after him on all occasions. He was accustomed 
 to having his own way, and that at once ; so he 
 decided upon a line of action, and then took Rose 
 Silsbee into his confidence, knowing that she would 
 assist him. 
 
 On the following morning, soon after breakfast, 
 Moorfield walked leisurely across the piazza and 
 down the road, apparently bound for the village. 
 He was hardly out of sight, when Miss Silsbee, who 
 had been promenading with Miss Wainwright, said 
 to her : 
 
 "You must run up for your hat, and come for 
 a little row with me." 
 
 " I 'm afraid that you '11 tip me over," that young 
 woman responded. 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! You can ask any of the boat- 
 men if I 'm not perfectly reliable," laughed Rose. 
 
 "Very well, I will trust myself with you if you
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN'. 45 
 
 will be very careful ; for I am frightfully timid on 
 the water, and always expect to be drowned." 
 
 A few minutes later they were paddling about the 
 bay; and at the same time Mr. Clyde Moorfield 
 was calmly retracing his steps towards the boat 
 landing. Rose pulled energetically for a while and 
 then rested upon her oars. 
 
 " Now I am going to show you all the points of 
 interest," she said. She turned around and began 
 describing the scenery and commenting upon the 
 picturesque aspect of the old fort opposite them. 
 Suddenly Miss Wainwright exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, where are your oars ? " 
 
 Sure enough, they had slipped into the water, 
 while Rose was discoursing upon the beauties of 
 the landscape, and now floated at some distance 
 from the boat. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " cried Miss Wainwright, in 
 distress. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," replied Rose, encourag- 
 ingly ; " nothing dreadful is going to happen to us. 
 Look, there is a man on the wharf, and I am going 
 to beckon to him." 
 
 " Oh, but he won't understand ! " 
 
 " Wait and see," Rose returned, confidently, and 
 she waved her hand towards the figure on the pier. 
 
 Just then Mr. Clyde Moorfield might have been 
 seen replacing his marine glass in his pocket. Then 
 he stepped into his small boat and pulled rapidly
 
 46 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 towards the helpless craft, murmuring, " Rose, thou 
 shalt have a ten-pound box of candy when next I go 
 to town." 
 
 " See, see, the man is coming," cried Miss Wain- 
 wright, joyfully. " How well he understood your 
 signal ! I should never have known what you 
 meant in the world." 
 
 "That's because you're not a sailor," Rose 
 remarked, with an air of superiority, which filled 
 her companion with admiration. 
 
 In a moment more, however, Miss Wainwright 
 exclaimed, in a different tone, " Oh, if it is n't that 
 Mr. Moorfield ! " 
 
 " Why, so it is," Rose exclaimed. " How very 
 nice of him! How do you do, Mr. Moorfield," 
 she called out. " Do you see what has happened 
 to us poor helpless creatures ? We 've lost both 
 oars, and might have drifted out to sea if you 
 hadn't seen us and come to the rescue." This 
 was stretching the truth slightly, as the tide was 
 carrying them swiftly ashore ; but Miss Wainwright 
 believed it implicitly, and shuddered at the dreadful 
 thought. 
 
 " And you told me that you were perfectly reli- 
 able ! " she said, reproachfully, to Rose. 
 
 "Well, I am. Mr. Moorfield, come and stand 
 up for me. Oh, I beg your pardon, I believe you 
 have n't met Miss Wainwright. Miss Wainwright, 
 allow me to present our preserver, Mr. Moorfield."
 
 O e 
 
 II 
 
 w 3 
 
 r <
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 4/ 
 
 Moorfield brought his boat alongside, and Miss 
 Wainwright extended a grateful hand to him over 
 the gunwale. 
 
 " This is the second time that you have been of 
 service to me, I think," she said, smiling. She had 
 forgiven him the first offence. 
 
 That evening, Moorfield actually crossed the 
 dance hall and invited Miss Wainwright to try 
 a waltz with him, thereby greatly astonishing all 
 the young ladies to whom he had confided his 
 intention of not dancing during the summer ; they 
 sat regarding him with ill-concealed amazement, as 
 he guided his fair partner through one waltz after 
 another, apparently enjoying each more than the 
 preceding one. That evening, too, he asked the 
 new arrival if she wouldn't go sailing with him 
 the next afternoon ; but she thanked him and said 
 that she did n't enjoy sailing in the least, and could 
 never be persuaded to trust herself in any kind of 
 a sailboat ; she added, moreover, that she was made 
 seasick by the slightest motion. 
 
 Moorfield tried to convince himself that the 
 expression of such sentiments was more than suffi- 
 cient to extinguish what little interest Miss Wain- 
 wright had awakened in his fickle breast ; and the 
 following afternoon he went sailing alone, hardening 
 his heart, and leaving her playing tennis with young 
 Camden from the West. Moorfield did not take 
 a very long sail, however, in spite of there being
 
 48 CLYDE MOOPFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 a fine breeze, but glided back and forth near the 
 shore, where he could hear the voices and laughter 
 from the tennis ground, in which he seemed to feel 
 an unusual interest. Finally, he moored his boat 
 and went ashore, just in time to see the tennis play- 
 ers disperse and to catch a glimpse of Miss Wain- 
 wright and young Camden strolling off together 
 towards the grove. 
 
 Again and again Moorfield said to himself that 
 any girl who could not appreciate his favorite sport 
 was lacking in the most important feminine attribute ; 
 and day after day he sullenly unfurled his sail and 
 sped away across the bay in solitary enjoyment of 
 his beloved pastime. But somehow he failed to 
 derive from it the usual satisfaction. He found 
 himself continually wondering what Miss Wain- 
 wright was doing on shore ; and even a spanking 
 breeze brought him no consolation. 
 
 Then followed a time when, day after day, his 
 idle boat might have been seen swinging at her 
 moorings, while the owner went on long and dusty 
 expeditions for ferns, or played tennis with the 
 young ladies. He had always declared that he 
 saw no pleasure in sitting on damp, uncomfortable 
 rocks, and wasting one's time in merely looking at 
 the water ; but now he suddenly became an enthusi- 
 astic devotee to that harmless recreation, and was 
 to be seen for hours at a time contentedly perched 
 upon some sharply pointed projection, reading
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 49 
 
 poetry to Miss Lucy Wainwright, who remained 
 blissfully unconscious of the fearful and wonderful 
 transformation that her presence had wrought in the 
 young yachtsman. In the morning he would walk 
 down to the pier and view his boat sadly from the 
 landing, and then he would return to the hotel piazza. 
 to watch Miss Wainwright work embroidery, or to 
 ask her to take a walk over to the cliff with him. 
 
 His subjugation seemed complete when he rode 
 off one morning to a clambake, on the back seat of 
 the crowded picnic wagon, in charge of the hampers 
 and luncheon baskets, and sandwiched in between 
 two small boys, upon whom he found it necessary 
 to exercise all his powers of eloquence in order to 
 keep the contents of the hampers intact. 
 
 Whenever yachting was mentioned, Miss Wain- 
 wright freely expressed her disapproval of it. She 
 said she " could n't understand how any one could 
 find enjoyment in a boat which was always tipped 
 way over on one side, and which was constantly 
 shifting over to the other side, just as one had fairly 
 succeeded in getting used to the latest position ; then 
 the boom constantly swung back and forth, endan- 
 gering every one's life each time it passed over their 
 heads." She said that she " had noticed, moreover, 
 that there was invariably either too much wind, so 
 that the sail had to be reefed and the topsail furi- 
 ously hauled down, or else the wind died out alto- 
 gether, and left the pleasure seekers to toil ashore
 
 50 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 in the blazing sun, or to drift about in a fog." She 
 concluded by declaring that she " never had an easy 
 moment when any one she cared for was in a 
 sailboat." 
 
 Moorfield, at such times, sat gloomily by, refrain- 
 ing from joining in the conversation. He admired 
 Miss Wainwright very much, but he told himself 
 that if it came to an absolute choice between any 
 young woman and his yachting, the latter must 
 have the preference. 
 
 The time was now rapidly drawing near for the 
 great annual regatta, which was, undoubtedly, the 
 event of the season to all yachtsmen. Moorfield's 
 boat was entered, as usual, and in such perfect con- 
 dition that its owner felt quite sure of winning the 
 first prize, though he knew that the race would be 
 a close one, as several very fast boats were entered 
 against him. During these days immediately pre- 
 ceding the race, Moorfield seemed to have returned 
 to his old allegiance ; the piazza saw him but sel- 
 dom, and the tennis courts no longer formed a 
 background for his athletic figure, and the other 
 girls whispered that Miss Wainwright's charms, 
 although great, were not sufficient to eclipse the 
 annual regatta. Moorfield still hovered about her 
 in the evening, but early morning found him at the 
 helm of his beloved boat, skimming across the bay 
 and experimenting on the amount of canvas that 
 she could safely carry.
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 5! 
 
 If Miss Wainwright felt at all chagrined at the 
 apparent falling oft of the young yachtsman's de- 
 votion, she gave no sign, but remained to all out- 
 ward appearance wholly unconscious of it. She 
 seemed to enjoy the society of the other swains 
 equally well, and took long walks with young Cam- 
 den, who was always on hand. She was, without 
 doubt, one of those calm, happy natures, which 
 accept gladly all the good things offered to them 
 without sighing for those withheld. She evidently 
 enjoyed Moorfield's society when he was with her, 
 but was equally happy and contented when he was 
 elsewhere, in fact, hardly seeming to note the 
 difference. 
 
 Any one, however, who had watched her criti- 
 cally on one particular afternoon, when a tremen- 
 dous and unexpected squall suddenly sprang up, 
 might have discerned an unusual amount of excite- 
 ment visible upon her expressive features. The 
 peaceful bay was filled with angry whitecaps, and 
 the small boats came scudding home like mad. 
 The guests at the hotel, grouped about the piazza, 
 eagerly watched the few boats that were still outside 
 in the gale. 
 
 " I suppose that Moorfield is somewhere out 
 there," somebody remarked, casually, and somebody 
 else replied, " There 's no need to worry about him, 
 he has more lives than a cat." 
 
 Miss Wainwright did not speak to any one, but
 
 52 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 stood looking out from the end of the piazza, with 
 tightly compressed lips, and with her eyes fixed 
 upon a tiny speck far out across the harbor. It 
 was just supper-time, and the others all gradually 
 drifted into the dining-room without noticing that 
 one lonely figure still remained motionless in a dis- 
 tant corner, disregarding the fury of the gale, which 
 blew her hair wildly about, and only deserting her 
 post when the yachtsman's pretty white boat swung 
 securely at its moorings. 
 
 That evening she seemed to be in unusually high 
 spirits, and when she met Moorfield after supper, 
 she greeted him with a gay unconcern which con- 
 vinced him that she had been very little troubled by 
 his exposure to the terrific squall. He resented 
 her calm indifference, which contrasted strongly 
 with the interest shown by the others, who crowded 
 round to hear his description of his afternoon's 
 experience, and he made an effort to enlarge upon 
 his imminent peril, telling graphically how he had 
 narrowly escaped being capsized, in order to draw 
 forth some expression of feeling from her. His 
 words, however, apparently failed to produce the 
 desired effect, as she only remarked lightly that she 
 " supposed that sort of thing was what a yachtsman 
 enjoyed." He remembered that she had said that 
 it worried her dreadfully to have any one that she 
 cared for out on the water, and he meditated grimly 
 that her attitude towards him had been clearly
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 53 
 
 demonstrated. He persuaded himself that he re- 
 gretted his devotion to so heartless and unfeeling a 
 young woman, and decided that he had been rightly 
 served for allowing himself to admire any one whose 
 tastes were so little in sympathy with his own. 
 
 Moorfield pictured to himself at intervals during 
 the next few days the probable result of an engage- 
 ment between them (a picture which gave him 
 more satisfaction than he wished to acknowledge), 
 and he forced himself to conclude that they could 
 never be happy together. Her first request would 
 be for him to give up yachting, he felt sure of that. 
 Yes, she would probably ask him to sell his boat at 
 once. That was something that he could not do ; 
 he would never relinquish yachting, no, not for 
 any woman ; so it was just as well that she cared 
 nothing about him. Moorfield felt sure that this 
 was absolutely so, as he dwelt upon her indifference 
 on the day of the squall. 
 
 The days sped quickly by, until only one day 
 remained before the long-talked-of race, and Moor- 
 field, in consequence, remained on shore just long 
 enough to swallow the amount of food necessary to 
 sustain life, and actually failed to exchange a word 
 with Miss Wainwright for over twenty-four hours. 
 
 The next morning dawned, the perfection of a 
 yachtsman's day. The sky was dotted with a few 
 fleecy clouds, and a fine stiff breeze ruffled the sur- 
 face of the water. Moorfield came down to break-
 
 54 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 fast in the highest of spirits, brimming over with that 
 sense of good-will towards all the world which is 
 apt to accompany the gratification of one's own 
 desires. He saw, in his mind's eye, his boat flying 
 through the water and rapidly increasing the dis- 
 tance between her and the boats following. As he 
 passed through the office, Miss Wainwright was 
 standing at the desk, and he fancied she smiled 
 less brightly than usual, in return to his cheery 
 good-morning. 
 
 " I 'm glad that you have so fine a day for your 
 race, Mr. Moorfield," she said, in rather a subdued 
 tone. " When do you start ? " she added. 
 
 " At eleven," he rejoined, pulling out his watch. 
 " I suppose that you will come down to the landing 
 to wish me good luck? " 
 
 " I should like to, but I 'm afraid I can't." 
 
 Something in her tone attracted his attention, 
 and he inquired, anxiously, " Is anything the matter, 
 Miss Wainwright ? " 
 
 In response, she pointed to a dispatch which she 
 held in her hand. 
 
 " My father is ill, and they have telegraphed for 
 me to come home," she said, simply, "so I shall 
 take the twelve o'clock train." 
 
 Moorfield's high spirits suddenly evaporated. 
 
 "I'm dreadfully sorry," he exclaimed, looking 
 greatly distressed. " Is n't there something I can 
 do for you ? "
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 55 
 
 " Thank you very much, but I can't think of any- 
 thing, unless you want to order a buckboard to 
 take me over to the station. I was just going to 
 see about one. I presume I ought to start soon 
 after eleven, as it is a four-mile drive." 
 
 " Yes, you certainly should start as soon as that," 
 he replied, thoughtfully. Then he added, " But I 
 don't see what I am to do without you. I shall be 
 the picture of despair, I assure you." 
 
 "Ah, but you will have your boat for consola- 
 tion," she returned, endeavoring to speak lightly. 
 
 " Yes, truly, I had forgotten that," he said, imi- 
 tating her careless tone. " I see you appreciate the 
 extent of my requirements." 
 
 " I shall have to go and finish my packing now," 
 she exclaimed, hurriedly, " so perhaps I had better 
 say good-by at once, since you will be off before I 
 start." 
 
 She extended her hand to Moorfield, who grasped 
 it warmly, and appeared quite unwilling to let it go 
 again. 
 
 " I hope we shall meet again," she said, faintly. 
 " The acquaintance has been a very pleasant one 
 to me." 
 
 "I am just beginning to realize how pleasant it 
 has been to me, now that you are going away," he 
 said, soberly, while he looked steadily into her eyes, 
 which dropped before his gaze ; " and now that I 
 know, you may be sure that we shall meet again,
 
 56 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 and it will be very soon, he added, with decision. 
 "Good-by, I will go and see about your buckboard 
 at once." 
 
 She watched him disappear, and then slowly went 
 up-stairs, with a mist gathering before her eyes. 
 When she reached her room she looked out of the 
 window and caught sight of Moorfield wending his 
 way towards the boat landing. 
 
 " He is sorry to have me go," she said to herself, 
 " but he still has his yacht race." 
 
 At eleven o'clock, promptly, something resembling 
 a swarm of big white butterflies skimmed across the 
 water. The bre"eze filled the snowy sails and the 
 foam flew merrily, as the many boats scudded swiftly 
 before the wind, and the practised eyes of the yachts- 
 men sparkled with pleasure as they steered towards 
 the distant bell-buoy. 
 
 Miss Wainwright, arrayed in a dark travelling 
 suit, stood, bag in hand, waiting for the buckboard 
 to appear. 
 
 " I hope that Mr. Moorfield did not forget to give 
 the order," she remarked to her aunt, who was wait- 
 ing to see her depart. 
 
 After bidding her aunt good-by, she glanced over 
 her shoulder at the fleet of white sails, and at the 
 pier crowded with gay spectators, and alive with 
 flags and fluttering streamers which waved in the 
 breeze; then she turned with a sigh towards the 
 buckboard which had just driven up to the door.
 
 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 5/ 
 
 As the driver jumped out and extended his hand to 
 assist her, a sudden wave of color mounted to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Moorfield, is that you? How very 
 kind ! But I thought " 
 
 She faltered, looking over her shoulder towards 
 the flying sails. He made no reply, but helped her 
 into the buckboard and sprang in after her. 
 
 " And you gave up the race," she murmured, re- 
 proachfully, " just to drive me over to the station ? 
 Oh, Mr. Moorfield ! " 
 
 He laughed derisively. 
 
 "The race! Is there a race ? I had quite for- 
 gotten it." Then he continued more gently, " Do 
 you suppose that all the yacht races in the world 
 are anything to me, when you are going away ? " 
 
 Before they reached the station, Moorfield had 
 learned with much satisfaction that, far from being 
 indifferent on the afternoon of the squall, Miss 
 Wainwright had suffered untold agony until she saw 
 him once more safely on shore. As the train came 
 into sight, she murmured : 
 
 "Oh, there is one thing which I want you to 
 promise me, Clyde, dear." 
 
 " Anything in my power, dearest," he replied, 
 feeling that to give up yachting forever would be a 
 joy rather than otherwise. 
 
 " It is this," she went on, hurriedly ; " I know that 
 I am often very selfish, though I don't mean to be ;
 
 58 CLYDE MOORFIELD, YACHTSMAN. 
 
 and so I am going to get you to help me to try not 
 to be so any longer. You shall begin by promising 
 not to give up your yachting on my account. I 
 want you to enjoy it just as much as if I could go 
 with you. You will promise, won't you ? " and she 
 stepped on board the train. 
 
 " I will do anything to please you, my love," he 
 answered, standing wrapped in admiration of this 
 final revelation of her unselfishness until the train 
 had steamed far out of sight. 
 
 Yet in spite of this promise, Clyde Moorfield 
 ceased to be a yachtsman from that moment. His 
 interest in his old pastime seemed to have suddenly 
 departed ; and at the end of a month he had sold his 
 boat to a friend, who had several times offered to 
 take it off from his hands in case he ever wished to 
 dispose of it. 
 
 The other fellows said that Clyde was " very 
 much engaged now," but declared that he " would 
 get over it in time ; " they gave him six months. 
 At last accounts, however, two years had elapsed, 
 and he had failed to fulfil their predictions. 
 
 Mrs. Clyde Moorfield often asks him why he 
 does n't go off on a nice long cruise, though I sus- 
 pect she is none too anxious to have him do it ; but 
 he always replies that somehow or other he has lost 
 his interest in yachting, and, what is more, he cannot 
 understand how he ever could have cared so much 
 about it.
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 
 REVERSED
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS 
 REVERSED 
 
 I LITTLE thought that I should ever be called 
 upon to fill the rbk of the world-famous Trojan, 
 especially as I had always bemoaned the fact that I 
 was not blessed with my full share of the good looks 
 with which my enemy Paris was so plentifully en- 
 dowed. I say enemy advisedly, for I disliked him 
 from the first, and have always cherished a whole- 
 some disdain for him, while I regarded his willingness 
 to give up both wisdom and riches, merely for the 
 sake of a good-looking woman, as the very height of 
 imbecility, which could not have failed to bring upon 
 him condign punishment. 
 
 Being an old bachelor myself, and blessed with 
 what I considered a fair amount of common sense, 
 I felicitated myself that so far I had not fallen a 
 victim to the charms of any member of the fair sex. 
 Possibly this may have been due to the fact that I 
 had always avoided the danger, and had let the fair 
 ones severely alone. My friends often tried to in- 
 veigle me into society, but I would not be tempted. 
 
 61
 
 62 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 I was contented, and determined to let well enough 
 alone. I would not court unhappiness, nor would I 
 call upon anybody's pretty sisters no, not I. 
 
 On a certain winter's evening, a little over a year 
 ago, I had been enjoying a very cozy dinner with 
 my three friends, Weston, Hollingsford, and Mitchell, 
 charming fellows, who, though somewhat younger 
 than I, yet always showed a willingness to dine chez 
 mot, which was not tempered by any discrepancy in 
 years. On this particular evening dinner was over, 
 and Mitchell was just dropping a second lump of 
 sugar into his cup of black coffee, when the conver- 
 sation drifted in the direction of the German opera. 
 
 " Madame Flambeau is, without doubt, as ugly a 
 woman as ever existed," I incidentally remarked. 
 
 " Oh, no," broke in Weston ; " indeed she is not. 
 I have a cousin, by whose side she would be con- 
 sidered a perfect beauty." 
 
 I hastened to declare that I did not believe it 
 possible, when Hollingsford asserted that he had a 
 cousin whom he would match against any homely 
 woman that Weston could produce. 
 
 " I don't believe that your cousin is a circum- 
 stance to mine," he continued, enthusiastically. 
 " She would take a prize in any exhibition, and cre- 
 ate a sensation that would fill the heart of the ten- 
 thousand-dollar beauty with despair. I have no 
 hesitation in saying that she is the plainest woman 
 in the whole world."
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 63 
 
 " Look here," interrupted Mitchell, who had, up 
 to this point, seemed quite absorbed in studying the 
 weather indications presented by the bubbles float- 
 ing across the surface of his coffee ; " / have a 
 cousin, too, whom I 'm ready to put up against any 
 two women that you can produce, and I will wager 
 any amount that she will knock Hollingsford's 
 cousin into the middle of next week." 
 
 " Impossible," responded that worthy gentleman ; 
 " I '11 never yield the prize to any one but Maria 
 Agnes Palmer, only daughter of my beloved Aunt 
 Mary, who always used to urge my mother to let me 
 spend my vacations with her, in order that she 
 might make my life miserable, until I came to re- 
 gard the opening of school as a happy release. She 
 belonged to Macaulay's class of old Puritans, who 
 looked upon bear-baiting as a sin, not because it 
 gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure 
 to the spectators, and Maria Agnes is just like her 
 mother, so every one tells me, both in looks and dis- 
 position." 
 
 " I say, Weston," exclaimed Mitchell, " what fun 
 it would be to bring them all together, and let 
 Lloyd, here, decide who is the ugliest ; then we will 
 abide by his decision, as he is, of course, the only 
 disinterested one. How could I, for instance, ever 
 regard my Cousin Kate Mitchell with an impartial 
 eye, when I remember how she comes to see my 
 sisters just so often, for the sole purpose of telling
 
 64 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 how injurious cigarettes are, how very extravagant 
 I am considered, and what expensive roses she 
 heard that I sent to Miss Wellington on the night 
 of her reception, which I attended, after having re- 
 gretted that business duties would prevent my 
 coming to her (Kate's) musicale that same evening 
 as though I could be in two places at once ? " 
 
 " Capital ! " cried Weston. " We will invite them 
 all to dinner, and Lloyd shall sit in judgment, and 
 the cousins of the defeated candidates shall pay for 
 the dinner. What do you say, Lloyd ? Will you 
 refuse to face such a galaxy of beauty ? " 
 
 I replied that, under the circumstances, I would 
 come to the dinner with pleasure, though they knew 
 that it was against my principles to mingle in femi- 
 nine society at all, but I begged that I might not be 
 forced to decide so weighty a question. I was, how- 
 ever, overruled, and before I knew it had consented 
 to shoulder the responsibility of selecting the least 
 attractive cousin, and had, moreover, said that I 
 should be most happy to take the whole party to 
 the theatre in the evening. 
 
 We finally came to the conclusion that during the 
 dinner I should have ample time to decide which 
 cousin carried off the palm of ugliness, and to her, 
 when dessert came on, I should present a bonbon- 
 niere, which, in form of a gilded apple, should 
 surmount the tray of bonbons. 
 
 "And thus shall the judgment of Paris be re-
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 65 
 
 versed," gayly exclaimed Mitchell, as he conde- 
 scendingly pocketed a couple of my best cigars 
 before bidding me good-night. "Only remember 
 that you must escort the heroine of the golden apple 
 to the theatre yourself, after having shown her such 
 marked consideration. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " he added. 
 " To think of Lloyd really accompanying ladies to 
 the theatre of his own free will ! We must keep a 
 sharp lookout for the cousins, fellows, if we are 
 going to expose them to the battery of his fascina- 
 tions. Poor things ! I hope their heads will not be 
 completely turned." 
 
 I joined the laugh with the others, but after they 
 had gone I sat down by the fire and thought what 
 an idiot I had been to allow myself to be drawn 
 into such juvenile nonsense. Was this all that my 
 consistency amounted to ? Ought my good resolu- 
 tions, long preserved unbroken, to be thus lightly set 
 aside for anybody's cousins ? Should they prove 
 ever so repulsive and disagreeable, they nevertheless 
 wore petticoats and belonged to that class of cold 
 and heartless schemers whose society I had for- 
 sworn since the day, long years since, when my best 
 friend, Richard Jackson, had died of a broken heart, 
 and I had determined thenceforward to have noth- 
 ing more to do with the treacherous sex. After 
 all, it made very little difference to me. Cousins 
 might come and go without affecting me in the 
 least. I had long ago become invulnerable, and
 
 66 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 had learned coldly to pass the schemers by on the 
 other side. 
 
 In less than three weeks from this time the night 
 for the eventful dinner arrived. It was to take 
 place in my apartments, as I had heard that my sis- 
 ter, Mrs. Winchester, was to be in town, and 
 happy thought ! knowing that she would expect 
 to dine with me, I arranged to have her come and 
 help me to receive the cousins, for whose arrival I 
 now waited with much greater interest than I would 
 have willingly acknowledged to any one could be 
 aroused within me merely by the arrival of three 
 very ugly women. It was probably the fact of their 
 unusual ugliness that interested me so much, and I 
 had several times caught myself speculating upon 
 the probable immensity of Miss Mitchell's mouth 
 and the possible magnitude of Miss Palmer's nose. 
 I had even calculated in a scientific way the relative 
 importance of these two given features. Admitted 
 that each was just as ugly as it could be, which was 
 the more important, a nose or a mouth ? Both were 
 quite necessary, but there had been times when I 
 had felt that I could dispense with my nose ; but 
 my mouth never. I was determined to be most 
 conscientious in my decision. 
 
 This was the first time that I had invited any 
 ladies to dine with me, save an occasional distant 
 relative from the country, and my sister, who always 
 condescended to spend a long and unhappy evening
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 6? 
 
 with me once a year. How much good advice she 
 could get into one evening, and what unalterable 
 opinions she had on every subject, from politics to 
 laundry bills ! No one else could be held respon- 
 sible for her opinions ; she entered the world fully 
 armed and equipped with them. It was bad enough 
 for women to have opinions at all, and even when 
 they had the sense to get them from some reason- 
 able man, they always lost sight of the essential 
 points, and permitted every little personal prejudice 
 full sway in the end. 
 
 I could not but feel, however, a slight flutter of 
 excitement at the thought of receiving three of the 
 much-avoided sex at once, besides my sister. I 
 vaguely wondered if the man had dusted the rooms. 
 I knew that women objected very much to dust. 
 Whenever I heard it said that any woman was " a 
 model housekeeper " a vision arose before me of some 
 one wearing a white apron, who appears flourishing 
 in one hand a dusting cloth and in the other a 
 feather duster ; who invades the peaceful study or 
 the tranquil sitting-room, and with her weapons of 
 warfare begins her work of devastation. She fills 
 the air with minute particles, and the dust rises at 
 her approach ; she moves all the papers, and alters 
 the positions of the pipes and match-boxes ; then 
 she takes down all the books, and rubs the dust into 
 the edges with the cloth before putting them all 
 back in the wrong places. I went over to the man-
 
 68 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 tel and blew violently to see if it was dusty ; evi- 
 dently it was, for I sneezed. How stupid of James ! 
 I took out my silk handkerchief and switched it 
 nervously up and down the mantel-shelf until I suc- 
 ceeded in knocking off my best pipe just nicely 
 colored, too. Women were a perfect nuisance any- 
 how, and had always made trouble for every one 
 since the advent of Eve. Nevertheless, I could not 
 control a desire to glance in the mirror each time 
 that I went by it an offence of which I am sel- 
 dom guilty and as I straightened my tie for the 
 sixth time I was dimly conscious of a faint satisfac- 
 tion at the thought of perhaps making somewhat of 
 an impression in my role of genial host upon an in- 
 voice of femininity which had not been spoiled by 
 too much flattery and adoration. I was only forty, 
 after all, and if not handsome, my hair had not yet 
 begun to grow thin on top, and my teeth were really 
 remarkably fine ; the genial smiling host was cer- 
 tainly quite my style. I knew these thoughts to be 
 unworthy of me as a scholar and scientist, but we 
 are all unworthy of ourselves now and then. 
 
 Steps in the hall caused me to take up a paper 
 and assume a careless position in my easy-chair by 
 the fire. My sister had arrived and also Mitchell, 
 by whose side appeared the first of the cousins. 
 I rose hastily and met them with great cordiality. 
 " I am so very glad to know you, Miss Mitchell. 
 This is my sister, Mrs. Winchester, who has kindly
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 69 
 
 consented to preside over our little party, and who 
 will, I know, have the goodness to show the ladies 
 where to leave their wraps." Before my first guests 
 had taken off their things Hollingsford appeared, 
 accompanied by his cousin, Miss Palmer, and closely 
 followed by Weston and his cousin, Miss Winifred 
 Weston. 
 
 It was not until all were fairly seated at table 
 that I succeeded in getting a good square look at 
 the three cousins, and then I know that I did 
 stare. Good heavens ! there had been some dread- 
 ful mistake. I looked from Hollingsford to Weston 
 and from Weston to Mitchell, but without eliciting 
 a responsive glance. Then I looked once more at 
 the cousins ; they were all three young and very 
 beautiful. Slowly the truth dawned upon me : I 
 was being made game of; I had been selected as 
 a fitting victim for an amazing practical joke. 
 Once I thought I caught a faint twinkle in Mitch- 
 ell's perfidious eye, which convinced me of the 
 fact. I doubted if these were their cousins at all ; 
 it was impossible that every one of the three should 
 have such a pretty cousin. I would give them no 
 satisfaction, however; they should not gather from 
 my serene bearing that I recognized any departure 
 from the original program ; so I smiled and con- 
 versed with the cousins one and all in a way cal- 
 culated to show that I was perfectly at my ease. 
 
 Miss Mitchell was a brilliant brunette, with
 
 70 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 laughing brown eyes and very rosy cheeks and dark 
 wavy hair ; she was dressed in a gown of dark blue 
 velvet which became her wonderfully, a fact of 
 which she seemed quite aware. Miss Palmer and 
 Miss Weston were both blondes, though of quite 
 different types. The former was petite and charm- 
 ing, with blue eyes, pink cheeks, and very fluffy 
 light hair; while the latter was tall and graceful, 
 with large gray eyes, shaded by the longest of black 
 lashes ; she had a wonderfully sweet smile, which 
 disclosed the whitest of teeth; she wore her hair 
 brushed straight back from her forehead, and 
 fastened in a simple knot at the back. Her dress 
 was of plain dark green silk, while Miss Palmer 
 wore a charming suit of light gray. 
 
 Surely the enemy had invaded my very camp, 
 but I would give no one the pleasure of knowing 
 what a blaze of wrath I was inwardly stifling as 
 I calmly passed the olives, and begged the fair ones 
 to try the salted almonds. It was not that I really 
 objected to the pretty girls, but it was the principle 
 of the thing. My confidence had been abused, and, 
 moreover, the wretched men had dared to invite 
 their cousins to come and laugh at me in my own 
 house. Oh, it was too much ; it was adding insult 
 to injury. But had those confounded fellows al- 
 lowed their cousins to share the joke which they 
 seemed to be enjoying so thoroughly ? No, I would 
 not believe them capable of such baseness. All
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 71 
 
 
 
 this indignation I smothered beneath a surface of 
 politeness and gay repartee. Miss Mitchell smiled 
 upon me most enchantingly, admired my pet 
 etchings, and thought me " so very kind to take 
 them to the theatre afterward." Miss Palmer 
 looked at me with the frankest of big blue eyes, 
 and seemed to possess the wonderful faculty of 
 drawing out one's opinions and preferences for the 
 sole purpose of showing how perfectly she agreed 
 with them all. She seemed to have always thought 
 just as I did on every subject, as nearly as I could 
 ascertain; but ever and anon I fancied that I 
 caught a significant smile passing from her to 
 Weston, and once I felt sure that Miss Palmer 
 actually winked at Hollingsford. 
 
 This was more than flesh and blood could stand. 
 I knew that the color was mounting to my cheeks, 
 and that my temper was giving way. With a 
 supreme effort I turned and began to devote my- 
 self to Miss Winifred Weston, in whose gray eyes 
 I discerned a sympathetic quality which somehow 
 reconciled me to the fact that she was not either 
 old or ugly. I found her so very sweet and inter- 
 esting that I almost had forgotten that any one else 
 was present, until I realized that dessert was upon 
 the table, and just in front of me I saw staring me 
 in the face, one small golden apple, which surmounted 
 an inviting dish of bon-bons. 
 
 Conversation suddenly seemed to flag, and I
 
 72 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 knew that all eyes were upon the fatal apple. How 
 I wished it a thousand miles away, and guarded by 
 the fearful dragon of the Hesperides ! Miss Kate 
 Mitchell's eyes were twinkling, and Miss Palmer's 
 glanced mischievously, while Miss Weston cast a 
 sympathetic glance at me, I was sure, and my sister, 
 who had slowly recovered from her first mute 
 astonishment at my apparently new departure, bent 
 upon me a questioning look. 
 
 The unrivalled impudence of Hollingsford rose 
 to the emergency. " What is this ? " he cried, gayly. 
 "Not an apple of discord, I hope. I see by the 
 expression of Lloyd's eye that he is going to present 
 it to one of the young ladies." 
 
 What a pleasure it would have been to have 
 obliged Hollingsford to swallow it then and there ! 
 Had he told Miss Weston that I was to select the 
 least attractive cousin, and present the apple to her ? 
 Now they were all waiting to see me give myself 
 away, make a fool of myself, lose my temper, or do 
 something equally unbecoming. My breath came 
 rapidly ; I reached out my hand with a nervous 
 motion toward the apple, with a wild desire to seize 
 it and hurl it wildly at the smiling and deceitful 
 Mitchell across the table. 
 
 No, I could not give it to Miss Weston, and so 
 make her think that I considered the others better 
 looking, when they neither of them could hold a 
 candle to her in any respect. But then, if I gave it
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 73 
 
 to either of the others, I was pledged to escort that 
 one to the theatre; to sit by her; to talk to her. 
 No, indeed, I would do nothing of the sort, to be 
 laughed at by Miss Mitchell, to be made fun of by 
 Miss Palmer. I would give it to my sister first, and 
 I prepared to murmur something idiotic about 
 " age before beauty." 
 
 The pause was in reality a brief one, but it was a 
 very bitter one, when suddenly an angel of light 
 came to my rescue in the guise of Miss Weston, 
 who herself reached across to the accursed dish and 
 took the golden apple in her dainty fingers. 
 
 " If this is an apple of discord," she cried, gayly, 
 " it is a dangerous thing, and we should beware how 
 we trifle with it. Take warning by the fate of the 
 first Paris, Mr. Lloyd, and do not call down upon 
 your head the wrath of Juno and Minerva. The 
 modern solution is quite different ; Paris must keep 
 the apple himself, and with it his dangerous 
 opinions. Then," she added, presenting it to me 
 with a smile, " when the judgment is reversed, and 
 Paris, instead of Aphrodite, receives the apple, surely 
 no one can complain." 
 
 I accepted it with a grateful glance calculated to 
 convey all the admiration I longed to express, while 
 I replied that " Paris certainly had nothing to com- 
 plain of when Aphrodite herself bestowed so great 
 a favor upon him." 
 
 It was a delightful and happy conclusion, after
 
 74 THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS REVERSED. 
 
 all, and I rose from the table in the highest of spirits, 
 which were not lessened by the visible shade of dis- 
 appointment depicted upon the faces of several of 
 the party at my having been allowed to escape so 
 easily. I offered my arm to Miss Weston, coupled 
 with the hope that she would accept me as her es- 
 cort for the evening, which she did, and what a per- 
 fect evening it was ! And that was the beginning 
 of the end yes, the end of my old bachelorhood. 
 A year ago I would never have believed that such 
 a thing could happen. It was wholly preposterous, 
 impossible; now it seems the most natural thing in 
 the world. What poor, unstable, human creatures 
 we are, all of us ! Still, if we must change, let it be 
 for the better, as in my case. Mitchell, Hollings- 
 ford, and Weston had their little joke; but "he 
 laughs best who laughs last," and Weston has lost 
 his pretty cousin into the bargain. I don't know 
 how she ever consented to have me. She says that 
 she married me to get rid of me, but my sister, to 
 whom all jokes are very weighty and incomprehen- 
 sible affairs, says that it was a very queer way of 
 getting rid of me, she thinks. 
 
 Among my dearest possessions I cherish one 
 small golden apple, which I will never part with, 
 save to one to whom, should she require it, I might 
 return my treasure, vowing that Paris was right, 
 after all, for it belonged to the queen of love and 
 beauty, and to her alone.
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON 
 SENSE
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COM- 
 MON SENSE 
 
 WHATEVER lesser or greater articles of faith 
 we have the foolishness (or wisdom) to 
 question, there is one to which we all subscribe. 
 One which rich and poor, and high and low, adopt 
 in pleasing unison ; the wise man, in his wisdom, 
 still adheres to it, and even the fool has wits enough 
 not to despise it. 
 
 This is the doctrine of " common sense." 
 
 "Nothing avails you if you have not common 
 sense," we hear declaimed at frequent intervals 
 during our journey from the cradle to the grave. 
 We early learn to reverence and respect it, though 
 we may fail to doff our caps to age, or to be reason- 
 ably civil to our betters. 
 
 As we increase in years, we generally value still 
 more highly "sound common sense," and fancy 
 that most of the ills which have beset our pathway 
 have crept in when this admirable commodity was 
 absent. (And so, no doubt, they have.) 
 
 And when old age advances, we ever throw the 
 weight of our experience into the balance with " cool 
 
 77
 
 78 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 common sense," of which we prate insufferably to all 
 young persons, as though their chance of happiness 
 depended solely on the attainment of this one 
 desirable quality. 
 
 Most of the luckless beings who alight upon the 
 surface of this earth arrive here in a very foolish 
 state, and needs must spend the best years of their 
 lives in fostering the little grain of sense which 
 they have been endowed with at the start. 
 
 Mrs. De Forrest Bristol's daughter Juliette was 
 not one of these. She came into the world, 
 Minerva-like, armed and equipped with an almost 
 incredible amount of common sense. She was 
 born preeminently sensible, and at an age when 
 other children behaved themselves (or misbehaved 
 themselves) like the unreasonable babies that they 
 were, she bore herself with an intelligence and dig- 
 nity which quite electrified her parents and other 
 relatives. 
 
 She early scorned a baby's rattle as a source of 
 entertainment, preferring to watch the movements 
 of those around her, while listening to their con- 
 versation. And if she did sometimes consent to 
 bite upon a rubber ring, it was because she realized 
 that by so doing she hastened the arrival of her 
 least progressive teeth. 
 
 Juliette never screamed violently for " no cause 
 whatsoever," as did her brothers and sisters in
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 79 
 
 their infancy, nor did she show exaggerated glee 
 over some brightly colored ball or painted top. 
 She never made the entire household wretched be- 
 cause her dinner chanced to be delayed, or woke 
 them up at some unearthly hour solely because her 
 morning nap had been abridged. 
 
 She seemed to comprehend, without the least ado, 
 that dolls were stuffed with sawdust, or cotton-wool, 
 and to accept the lamentable fact with philosophic 
 calmness; she understood that dolls were merely 
 playthings and not alive, and, therefore, did not weep 
 or make a fuss when they were injured or destroyed. 
 No, she was far too sensible for that. 
 
 Juliette's keen perception early did away with 
 myths regarding Santa Glaus, whom she discerned 
 at once as "only Uncle Charlie done up in fur 
 and with a painted face on," and, after that, no 
 urging or persuasion could induce her to hang up 
 her stocking "just for a make-believe man to play 
 he came and filled it." So she received her presents 
 with the older members of the family, and was duly 
 informed from whom they came. 
 
 The "fairies" and the mischief-making "brownies" 
 she dismissed with a disdainful wave of her small 
 hand, and banished " Mother Goose " and " Non- 
 sense Rhymes " into the farthest corner of the 
 nursery shelves, while pointing out to her surprised 
 mamma that the " Arabian Nights " were " wrong, 
 wrong stories " right straight through.
 
 8O A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 If at times Juliette disobeyed her parents, she in- 
 variably received the necessary punishment with an 
 emotion akin to gratitude, because she realized that 
 any chastisement administered was for her good. 
 
 When any of the other children slapped her, she 
 never attempted to slap back, because she could fore- 
 see that, by so doing, she would provoke another and 
 still harder slap, and so be worse off than before. 
 
 Mrs. Bristol never needed to urge this daughter 
 to brush her hair or wash her face and hands, for 
 Juliette at once perceived how much the application 
 of a sponge and hair-brush contributed towards an 
 attractive personal appearance. The necessary 
 warnings which were fruitlessly bestowed upon the 
 other children were never lost upon Juliette ; she 
 did not rush pell-mell into the dripping grass in her 
 best shoes, or swallow quarts of deadly ice -water 
 when overheated, or eat green apples, or touch 
 " poison ivy " to see if it was really poisoned. 
 
 When she was eight years old Juliette protested 
 that she must really be allowed to change her name 
 to Julia ; that seemed to her so much more sensible a 
 name. She expressed much wonder at her mother's 
 having chosen such a sentimental name for any 
 child, and Mrs. Bristol, who really was a very 
 sentimental woman and doted upon high-flown names, 
 assented, somewhat ruefully, to the arraignment of 
 her taste in this respect, and to the substitution 
 of Julia. Nor did she dare to own to her stern
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 8 1 
 
 mentor, that when she had selected the much-scorned 
 " Juliette " her wayward fancy had strongly leaned 
 towards " Hildegarde." 
 
 Julia grew up a most obedient and thoughtful 
 child, who could be trusted to look out for the other 
 children, who were several years her seniors, and to 
 prevent their getting into mischief. 
 
 She always carried her waterproof, umbrella, and 
 rubbers when it looked the least bit cloudy, and, in 
 consequence, was never drenched by unexpected 
 showers, although it was astonishing to note how 
 often the weather cleared, leaving the thoughtful 
 Julia to trudge home laden with the emblems of her 
 forethought not in use ; whereas, if it did rain, the 
 other children usually scrambled under her umbrella 
 and reached home quite as dry as she. 
 
 Julia was very much respected by her schoolmates, 
 as such a highly sensible girl must needs have been, 
 but she was seldom asked to share the foolish secrets 
 which delighted so many of the schoolgirls, or to 
 take part in any youthful escapades. Julia, the 
 others knew, had too much sense for any such diver- 
 sions. So they asked her to show them how to 
 work their difficult examples, and then went off and 
 ate their chocolate creams and pickles with some 
 one else. 
 
 All the teachers held Julia in high esteem ; they 
 always knew what to expect of her and where to 
 find her, and were not disappointed. She studied
 
 82 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 faithfully because she realized that if she wasted her 
 precious school -days she would be very sorry in 
 after years ; moreover, she knew that at her age the 
 mind grasped new ideas more readily than at a later 
 date, and understood that information then acquired 
 would remain with her all through her life. 
 
 Miss Mills, the oldest teacher at the academy, 
 declared that in all her long experience she had 
 never come across a mind so logical and finely 
 balanced as Julia's ; she regarded her with steadily 
 increasing interest, and pronounced her " a most re- 
 markable young woman," yet Miss Mills's favorite 
 pupil was Elsie Brown, a perfect flyaway, who never 
 could remember where the lesson was, and when 
 she did, forgot to learn it. 
 
 Although Julia was not the oldest sister, her 
 brothers invariably consulted her on questions of 
 importance, and brought her their torn garments to 
 mend, appreciating her sensible advice and clever 
 needle work. But they confided their youthful 
 woes, their towering aspirations, and idle day- 
 dreams to their other sisters, who were not quite 
 as intelligent as Julia, and it was Rose or Wini- 
 fred who helped to manufacture highly decorative 
 missives to be dispatched in old St. Valentine's 
 behalf. 
 
 Julia's brothers were very proud of her ability, 
 for she excelled in everything which she attempted ; 
 she could throw a ball, swim, ride, row, or play tennis
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 83 
 
 with the best of them, and seemed to understand 
 just how things should be done, even before she had 
 been shown the way. 
 
 Her brother's friends, too, equally admired Julia's 
 prowess and held her up as an example to their sis- 
 ters, but it was Rose or Winifred whom they invited 
 to walk with them, or to go for a paddle in their 
 canoes. 
 
 This certainly seemed a very curious mistake for 
 them to make, for the young fellows knew that 
 Julia was in every way superior to her sisters, who 
 were really very senseless young women, foolish 
 enough to fancy that the young men who took them 
 out canoeing were very clever and remarkably fine 
 fellows, whereas, their sister could have told them 
 that they were very commonplace. 
 
 The young men all appreciated Julia's powers of 
 conversation, for, after they had talked to her, they 
 went away declaring that she was as intelligent and 
 bright a girl as they had ever met, and if they sent 
 back bunches of violets and boxes of candy to her 
 sisters and not to her, it was because they felt that 
 she was quite too sensible to value such trivial 
 things. 
 
 Julia enjoyed remarkably good health, although 
 in early childhood she had been more delicate than 
 all the other children, for she had always taken the 
 best care of herself. While her sisters were often 
 very reckless about taking cold, she always went
 
 84 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 provided with extra wraps, and her precautions in- 
 variably preserved her health, unless perchance, on 
 some occasion, she insisted upon putting her wraps 
 on some one else more thinly clad than she. Her 
 common sense, although it kept her well, did not 
 however insure her sisters, and so she often was 
 obliged to nurse them, and take them gruel, and 
 bathe their aching heads with weak cologne, which 
 was almost as tiresome as having some ailment her- 
 self. 
 
 Julia was always popular at parties because she 
 danced so gracefully and talked so well, and yet 
 her sisters usually got more favors in the German 
 than she, for everybody knew she was too sensible 
 to mind whether she had favors or not, while other 
 girls were very much provoked if they did not re- 
 ceive a goodly number. 
 
 Julia was, with all, a very pretty girl, but no one 
 ever mentioned the fact because all knew that she 
 thought more of intellectual worth than of mere su- 
 perficial beauty, which was only " skin deep, " and 
 bound to fade away in a few years ; so no one 
 dreamed it would have pleased her to have been 
 told her " eyes were brilliant " or her " teeth like 
 pearls. " 
 
 They saved such silly speeches for her sisters, 
 and talked to her of science, literature, yes, even 
 politics they could discuss intelligently with her. 
 And she had sense enough to recognize the value
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 85 
 
 of such conversation, though possibly she would 
 have very much enjoyed the other kind, at 
 times. 
 
 Julia would play on the piano for hours at a time 
 while all the others danced, and nobody felt troubled, 
 because all knew that she could play dance-music 
 more easily and better than any of the rest, and 
 was too sensible to mind whether she danced, her- 
 self, or not. Moreover, if the other girls were called 
 upon to play, they would invariably expect some man 
 to hover close to the piano to turn the music over, 
 while Julia always said that it was much more sen- 
 sible for all the men to dance, and then, she 
 played without her notes. 
 
 There was one specially attractive man who 
 seemed particularly fond of Julia, but she was far 
 too sensible to offer him any encouragement. 
 
 He never would converse with her intelligently 
 on any of the weighty topics which usually inter- 
 ested her, but revelled in a perfectly nonsensical 
 discourse, which would have certainly disgusted Julia 
 had she not had the sense to recognize beneath this 
 flippant speech, a fine and sterling character, which 
 reconciled her to a great deal of his frivolous con- 
 versation (and he favored her with a most generous 
 amount). He used to talk to Julia just as foolishly 
 as if she had been Rose or Winifred, and would 
 make complimentary remarks about the color of 
 her eyes, or the Greek outline of her profile, in-
 
 86 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 stead of talking literature, or ethics, as did her other 
 friends. 
 
 Julia, who could not but feel regretful at the su- 
 perficial way in which so fine a mind expressed 
 itself, strove patiently to talk to him on more 
 improving subjects, although her zeal was wholly 
 misinterpreted by Rose and Winifred, who said 
 that she was not so fond of talking sense as she 
 pretended. 
 
 This young man even went so far astray from 
 paths of common sense as to beg for a lock of 
 Julia's hair, which she, of course, refrained from giv- 
 ing him, and actually stole one of her photographs 
 from her eldest brother's dressing - table, after she 
 had most sensibly refused to give him one. This 
 she regarded as a dreadful piece of folly, but she 
 had sense enough to make no fuss about it, and not 
 to mention it to her two sisters ; so the young man 
 kept the picture. 
 
 When he came to call, he did not even ask to see 
 the other members of the family, but told the maid 
 that if Miss Julia was not in, he would come again 
 some other time. 
 
 Julia was far too sensible to favor such a line of 
 action and always called in Rose and Winifred, who 
 did not know that he had specially refrained from 
 asking for them, and freely took part in the conver- 
 sation, not dreaming that he might have actually 
 preferred to see Julia alone. At first, this used
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 8? 
 
 greatly to annoy the caller, who considered that he 
 was being treated shabbily, but, after some little 
 time, he became reconciled to Rose and Winifred 
 and never failed to ask for the " young ladies." 
 
 This same man was extremely fond of chess, and 
 used to drop in very frequently to play with Julia, 
 who generally could beat him (she played so fine a 
 game), and after they had ended a long and scien- 
 tific struggle, he would suggest that, after such a 
 contest, they really ought to step out on to the cool 
 veranda to see the moon and get a breath of air. 
 And she would readily assent, knowing that it was 
 very beneficial to fill one's lungs with pure fresh air 
 before retiring for the night. 
 
 Now, although Rose and Winifred did not play 
 chess, they often hovered near and watched the 
 game, and when the visitor suggested that they ad- 
 journ in search of oxygen or moonlight, Julia's 
 common sense could not ignore the fact that pure, 
 fresh air was also beneficial for Rose and Winifred, 
 who in their turn had not the sense to realize that 
 the young man might perhaps prefer a tte-&-tete 
 with Julia, but joined the chess-players without 
 waiting for further urging, which they undoubtedly 
 would never have received. 
 
 As they inhaled the evening breezes on the cool 
 veranda, the young man would devote himself to 
 Julia, while Rose (who was invariably on hand) sat 
 idly thrumming her guitar ; she made a very pretty
 
 88 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 picture as the moonlight fell upon her, as both the 
 others could not fail to realize, though Julia was the 
 first to call attention to the fact. And the visitor, 
 having once had his attention directed towards the 
 picturesque musician, glanced frequently at her as 
 he continued his conversation with her sister, and 
 it was hardly strange that his mind sometimes 
 wandered from the intelligent discourse he was 
 enjoying, to Rose's fitful melodies, or that he even 
 irrelevantly asked her to sing him this or that pet 
 song, instead of answering at once some question 
 which Julia had propounded. 
 
 As the long summer evenings crept by, the visi- 
 tor's interest in Rose's songs increased, owing to 
 the heat, which lessened his enthusiasm for chess 
 (which never could have equalled Julia's), who would 
 have played willingly (with him) no matter to what 
 altitude the mercury had climbed. 
 
 Yes, the young man's interest in chess had cer- 
 tainly declined, and though he had declared, in 
 times gone by, that he enjoyed this favorite game 
 above all else, he now showed no desire to indulge in 
 it at all, and, as they sat upon the porch, his conver- 
 sation (which, I regret to say, showed little of the 
 intellectual quality which Julia had endeavored to 
 inculcate) was oftener addressed to Rose than to 
 her sister. 
 
 In fact he hardly noticed that Julia often slipped 
 away and left him there with Rose ; or if he did,
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 89 
 
 apparently he did not mind it, for Rose was very 
 charming, although not intellectual in the least, and 
 looked at him with an undisguised admiration which 
 Julia (even had she felt it) would have been quite 
 too sensible to have exhibited. 
 
 And so, at last, Rose and the visitor drifted away 
 from Julia altogether, and she, seeing that her 
 society was easily dispensed with, had too much 
 sense to intrude where her company was not partic- 
 ularly desired. 
 
 Therefore it came about that when the young 
 man came to call, he asked for Rose, who, not being 
 sensible at all, did not feel called upon to urge her 
 sister Julia to join them. 
 
 And one day, Rose and the young man, who had 
 been so devoted to her sister, became engaged, and 
 he forgot that he had stolen Julia's picture, or had 
 considered chess the finest game in all the world, so 
 much greater was his enthusiasm for music (espe- 
 cially that played by Rose on her guitar). 
 
 When the engagement was announced to Julia, 
 she kissed her sister, and extended her hand to the 
 young man who had once wanted a lock of her hair, 
 but when the latter gaily said that he should claim 
 the privilege of saluting his future sister, she swiftly 
 turned and left the room. 
 
 " I always thought that Julia barely tolerated 
 me," the young man said, " but now I almost feel 
 as though she actually dislikes me." To which
 
 90 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 
 
 Rose, who knew her sister better, only answered 
 evasively, "Never mind, she will get over it in 
 time." 
 
 And Julia went and locked herself into her room 
 and sat for hours at her desk gazing at a small 
 package of letters fastened together with an elastic 
 band (she deemed blue ribbon very foolish), which 
 letters she read over slowly several times before she 
 tore them up. After that she sat for a long time 
 trying to convince herself that Rose would after all 
 make the young man a great deal happier than she 
 could ever have hoped to; but her good common 
 sense refused this consolation, and told her plainly 
 that this was not the case ; so she sat motionless, and 
 watched the scrap-basket where she had thrown the 
 torn-up package of letters ; but she was far too sen- 
 sible to cry. 
 
 And Rose married the man who used to play so 
 many games of chess with Julia, and no one ever 
 dreamed (except Rose, and she never told the 
 dream) that Julia cared. She was as sensible and 
 practical as ever, and it was owing to her clear head 
 and clever management that all the wedding festivi- 
 ties went off so smoothly. 
 
 "When you are married, Julia," Winifred cried, 
 enthusiastically, after the bride had taken her de- 
 parture, " you won't need any one to manage things 
 ioi you, you understand so perfectly how everything 
 ought to be done."
 
 A LITTLE STUDY IN COMMON SENSE. 9 1 
 
 Julia did not reply at once, but turned and walked 
 over to a long window, and stood there looking out 
 for some time on to the veranda, where, in the silver 
 moonlight, she had thoughtfully discussed so many 
 intellectual themes with the young man who had 
 just driven away with Rose amid a shower of rice. 
 " I am too sensible ever to marry," she answered, 
 quietly. 
 
 And so indeed she was.
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY
 
 NO BUSINESS TO-MORROW, MY DEAR.'"
 
 MR. KURD'S HOLIDAY 
 
 " IV TO business to-morrow, my dear," Mr. Hurd 
 1 \l announced, cheerfully, to his better half, as 
 he stepped into the sitting-room and deposited sev- 
 eral brown paper bundles upon one of the chairs. 
 
 " Why, to be sure," she responded, brightening. 
 " I had almost forgotten that it will be a holiday ; 
 what are you going to do to celebrate ? I suppose 
 that we might all go off somewhere for the day," 
 she concluded, thoughtfully. 
 
 Mr. Hurd shook his head. " There are a num- 
 ber of things about the house which I am intending 
 to look into to-morrow; it is only a few days ago 
 that you were complaining that I was not more 
 domestic, so now I am going to turn over a new 
 leaf. I have come to the conclusion that we are 
 constantly paying out money to incompetent work- 
 men for little odd repairs that I could just as well 
 do myself. Any man with brains and the proper 
 tools at hand can turn off a good many dollars' 
 worth of work in his spare moments," he went on, 
 as he removed the paper wrappings from the several 
 bundles. 
 
 95
 
 96 MR. HUR&S HOLIDAY. 
 
 "Are you sure that you are feeling as well as 
 usual, Theodore ? " his wife inquired, watching him 
 in anxious astonishment, while she recalled her 
 many fruitless efforts in the past to awaken in him 
 a desire to help about some slight household detail 
 which sadly needed attention. 
 
 " Never better, my dear," he answered, unrolling 
 a bottle of glue and setting it upon the mantel-piece. 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Well, you see, Theodore, it is such a new de- 
 parture for you, that I could n't help wonder- 
 ing if-" 
 
 " Well, if what ? " 
 
 " If anything were the matter ; if you were quite 
 yourself. You 're not feverish, are you, Theodore ? " 
 she concluded, running her fingers over his forehead. 
 
 Mr. Hurd smiled benignly, as he produced a 
 small can of paint and a brush which he set down 
 next to the glue. " I '11 tell you just how it hap- 
 pened, my dear," he said. " On my way down 
 town I overtook Levering, and as we walked along 
 together I asked him casually how he was going to 
 celebrate to-morrow. ' As I usually spend my holi- 
 days,' he replied, ' in repairing and tinkering up 
 things about the house, and doing my best to freeze 
 out the carpenter and the plumber, beside sorting 
 over old papers and putting things to rights that I 
 seldom have a chance at.' After I left him I be- 
 gan to think how many holidays I had wasted when
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY. 97 
 
 I might have been really accomplishing something, 
 and have had money in my pocket to boot. 
 
 " I have reformed, my dear," he concluded, open- 
 ing the last of the paper bundles, as you will see 
 to-morrow ; here are half a dozen new tools which 
 I find I need if I am to do anything of this kind 
 really well. Is n't that a nice little hammer ? and 
 you remember that we had n't any chisel or screw- 
 driver that a man could properly work with." 
 
 Mrs. Kurd gazed at her husband, while tears rose 
 to her eyes. " Theodore," she said, huskily, " you 
 have realized one of my dearest hopes. With all 
 your faults, you have always been far ahead of other 
 men, and now now I am almost afraid you are 
 too perfect ; you 're sure that you do feel quite well, 
 and have n't any sharp pain darting through your 
 chest ? " 
 
 The following morning Mr. Hurd began to carry 
 out his good resolutions immediately after break- 
 fast ; and when the younger children urged him to 
 go for a walk, he informed them that " father had 
 some very important work to do, but that they 
 might watch him if they liked." 
 
 Mrs. Hurd met him soon afterwards mounting 
 the attic stairs, followed by a procession of willing 
 helpers. " Where are you going, Theodore ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " It is a long time since we had the tank cleaned 
 out," he responded, " and I see no need of paying
 
 .98 MR. HUR&S HOLIDAY. 
 
 an incompetent and expensive plumber, who brings 
 another man to stand around and look at him, for 
 doing a simple thing like that." 
 
 "Very well, dear," his wife said, encouragingly, 
 "only are you sure that you understand all about 
 it?" 
 
 " Of course I do," he replied, a trifle indignantly, 
 and Mrs. Kurd, realizing that she ought to have 
 more confidence in him than to suggest such a pos- 
 sibility, retired meekly to her own room, where she 
 quietly settled herself to her embroidery. "It is 
 such a comfort to have Theodore interested in 
 these little household matters," she murmured, 
 contentedly. 
 
 "It is an education for the children, too," she 
 meditated, as she listened to them running up and 
 down stairs to bring their father first one thing and 
 then another, and heard his voice from above in- 
 structing them to start all the faucets running in 
 the bathroom, and to bring him a pail and two or 
 three sponges. 
 
 In the course of five minutes her youngest son 
 appeared at her elbow. " What is it, Johnnie ? " 
 she questioned. 
 
 "Father wants his other pair of glasses," he 
 announced; "he's just smashed his best ones." 
 
 " What, those beautiful new pebbles ! " Mrs. 
 Hurd cried, regretfully ; " how did it happen ? " 
 
 " Oh, he was just looking down into the tank, and
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY. 99 
 
 they dropped off and struck on a piece of lead 
 pipe," Johnny answered, skipping gayly away with 
 the other pair of glasses. To him these little casu- 
 alties added greatly to the enjoyment of the 
 occasion. 
 
 In a short space of time, a rap at Mrs. Kurd's 
 door caused her to look up from her work. In the 
 doorway stood the cook, apparently much agitated. 
 " Oh, mum," she gasped, breathlessly, " somethin's 
 a leakin' ! Will yez come down to the kitchen ? 
 Sure an' the ceilin 's all wet and drippin' down on 
 me." 
 
 Mrs. Kurd sprang up. " They must have let the 
 bath-tub overflow," she exclaimed. " Come, we 
 must all turn to with mops, cloths, and all the 
 sponges we can get hold of." 
 
 "I suppose you know, Theodore, that you have 
 flooded the house," she called up -stairs, adding, 
 " Quick, Johnny, bring me down all those sponges 
 this very minute." 
 
 As Johnny came leisurely down -stairs with the 
 necessary sponges, he remarked, gleefully, " Pa 
 couldn't clean it out much of any, after all; he 
 says that no one but the plumber can get at it." 
 At this point, having reached his mother's side, he 
 whispered : " He 's broken his other glasses, too, 
 but he said we need n't say anything to you about 
 it." 
 
 A little later in the morning, when the house-
 
 100 MR. KURD'S HOLIDAY. 
 
 hold had once more resumed its usual atmosphere 
 of tranquillity, Mr. Kurd entered the sitting-room 
 with an air of quiet determination. " I am going 
 to adjust that new gas-burner, that I bought so 
 long ago," he remarked, displaying it. 
 
 " Oh, Theodore, don't you think you had better 
 leave it till the gas man comes ? " his wife remon- 
 strated. 
 
 " Nonsense," he responded, " I should hope that 
 I could screw on a simple fixture like that. Boys," 
 he added, "just run down cellar and bring me up 
 the tallest steps, and then ask Jane if she knows 
 where that monkey-wrench was put." 
 
 Mrs. Hurd withdrew once more to the seclusion 
 of her own apartments, after a timid protest regard- 
 ing the danger of allowing the gas to escape too 
 freely. She embroidered peacefully for a few 
 moments, and was beginning to congratulate her- 
 self that all was well, when a dull thud, accompanied 
 by a crash, caused her to spring to her feet. 
 
 " Oh, what has happened ? " she called out, in 
 agonized tones. " Are you killed, Theodore ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hurd rushed frantically down-stairs in time 
 to catch sight of her husband picking himself up 
 from the floor where he had apparently been seated 
 amidst shattered fragments of several glass globes 
 which had accompanied his sudden descent, while 
 the voices of the children questioned, anxiously, 
 " Have you hurt yourself, papa ? "
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY. IOI 
 
 Before his family could ascertain how badly he 
 had been injured, he rose majestically, swelling 
 with righteous indignation, and even refusing to 
 allow Mrs. Kurd to examine the cut on his left 
 wrist, which was bleeding freely from too close a 
 contact with one of the defunct gas-globes. 
 
 " It is shameful to keep a pair of steps like that 
 in the cellar of any respectable house," he thun- 
 dered, crunching the broken glass under foot. " They 
 are only fit for kindling wood ! They should have 
 been chopped up long ago, long ago ! I never in 
 my life saw such a shiftless set of people. Nobody 
 takes a bit of interest in anything about the house, 
 but everything is left for me to attend to, and I I 
 have nothing more important to do than to spend 
 my time regulating the contents of the attic and the 
 cellar, and now look at that ! " and he pointed up 
 wards to the half-adjusted gas-fixture. Mrs. Hurd 
 turned her eyes in that direction and allowed them 
 to rest regretfully on the chandelier, which was 
 bent far out from its usual position and no longer 
 hung at right angles from the ceiling. 
 
 "Never mind that, Theodore," she said, con- 
 solingly, " I 'm thankful that it broke your fall ; we 
 shall have to get the gas man here to fix it, and he 
 can finish adjusting the new burner at the same 
 time, so please say you won't attempt to do any- 
 thing more to it just now, won't you, Theodore ? " 
 And Mr. Hurd said he would n't.
 
 102 MR. NURD'S HOLIDAY. 
 
 After luncheon, Mrs. Hurd urged that it would 
 be a good chance for them to make a long-talked-of 
 call on their new neighbors across the way. 
 
 " I 've been waiting for you to go with me, Theo- 
 dore," she ventured, persuasively, but he shook his 
 head and insisted that he did n't feel like making 
 calls. 
 
 " Then I '11 run over without you," she said, re- 
 signedly, thinking that he might be feeling some- 
 what lame after his fall from " the tallest steps." 
 
 " I sha' n 't be gone long," she said, pleasantly, 
 looking into the library, where her husband was 
 settled comfortably with his pipe and one of the 
 magazines. " Why don't you take a nap while I 'm 
 gone ? " she suggested, pausing, with her hand on 
 the front door-knob; then she went cheerfully on 
 her way. 
 
 When Mrs. Hurd returned, three-quarters of an 
 hour later, a strong odor of paint greeted her nos- 
 trils, mingled with another unmistakably like ben- 
 zine. " Johnny," she inquired of her youngest boy, 
 who was buried in a book in a distant corner of the 
 library, " where is your father ? " 
 
 " Oh, he 's up-stairs, painting the back entry," he 
 responded. " I was helping him, but I got some 
 paint on me and he sent me down here." 
 
 " On you" his mother exclaimed, scrutinizing him 
 hastily, " say, rather, all over your lovely new suit. 
 Oh, Johnny ! how could you be so careless ! "
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY. 1 03 
 
 Mrs. Kurd hurried up-stairs, guided by an in- 
 creasing odor of paint, which plainly bespoke the 
 continuance of Mr. Kurd's good resolutions. As 
 she opened the door into the back entry, her hus- 
 band's voice called to her to " Look out for paint ! 
 I 've painted the door on both sides," he concluded ; 
 but this warning came too late, for already her vel- 
 vet cape had swept against the newly coated surface. 
 
 This was more than flesh and blood could with- 
 stand, and Mrs. Kurd's pent-up indignation burst 
 forth. 
 
 " I should think that you had done enough harm 
 for one day, Theodore," she exclaimed, reproach- 
 fully ; " my best cape is entirely ruined, and you 
 know it is n't paid for yet ! I meant to have told 
 you that the bill for it came only yesterday." 
 
 " Go back, don't come out here, my dear," Mr. 
 Kurd cried excitedly, " we 've just met with an 
 accident; they will happen in the best regulated 
 families, you know." Here his voice took on a more 
 persuasive tone, as he cast a hurried look at his 
 wife, who stood like some avenging spirit in the 
 doorway, and then he stooped down and continued 
 to rub the carpet energetically with a roll of cloth 
 which he held in one hand. 
 
 " Have you decided to paint the entry carpet with 
 a whole roll of my emergency bandages, Theodore ? " 
 Mrs. Kurd said, coldly. " I thought you had bought 
 yourself a new brush for that purpose." Then she
 
 104 MR - HURD^S HOLIDAY. 
 
 relented slightly at sight of his dejected countenance, 
 as he knelt upon the floor. " What was the catas- 
 trophe this time ? " she questioned, mournfully. 
 
 " I was opening that largest pot of paint, and 
 very excellent paint it is, too," he responded volu- 
 bly, " when Johnny knocked my elbow, wholly by 
 accident, my dear, and sent the contents all over 
 the floor; so we have had rather bad work here 
 with it, but it's pretty much all up, now," he an- 
 nounced, with an effort at great cheerfulness, as he 
 gave a final rub with the emergency bandage. 
 
 " After all, this carpet is about worn out," Mr. 
 Hurd went on, " so a little paint on it does n't mat- 
 ter; moreover, I told the boys that they might as 
 well begin to take it right up, and I would see about 
 getting a new one to-morrow. They 're workers, I 
 can tell you ! Why, they have taken out all the 
 tacks already ; and, by the way, Johnny stepped on 
 one and ran it into his foot, and I told him he had 
 better let you look at the place, to see if there was 
 any danger of his having lockjaw, or anything of 
 that sort." 
 
 "I will go and bathe his foot in hot water at 
 once," she replied, turning to depart. Then she 
 paused and looked across the back entry at her hus- 
 band, who stood confronting her in his shirt-sleeves. 
 " May I ask why the stopper is out of that bottle of 
 benzine ? " she queried. 
 
 " Oh," he answered, meekly, putting in the cork,
 
 MR. HURD'S HOLIDAY. 1 05 
 
 " I got a little paint on my own coat, and I thought 
 that benzine would take it off. I 've heard you say 
 that it was the best thing " 
 
 Mrs. Hurd lifted her skirts gingerly, and stepped 
 across the entry carpet. " I will take your coat and 
 get off the paint, Theodore," she said, reassuringly, 
 " if you will promise me one thing : promise me that 
 you will, under no circumstances, help any more 
 about the house." 
 
 " Very well," he assented, " then I won't melt up 
 any of that glue I brought home to mend the chairs 
 with." 
 
 " No, no, indeed," she protested, earnestly ; " if 
 you have any love for me, Theodore, say that you 
 will do nothing of the sort. It is all very well for 
 ordinary men, men who have n't your talents and 
 ability, to do such things, but with you it is quite 
 different; you are capable of something better. 
 Spend your holidays any way you like. Go to the 
 club, go fishing, eat, smoke, play billiards, but give 
 me your word that, whatever happens, you will 
 never be helpful about the house again ! " 
 
 And, with his hand upon the benzine bottle, Mr. 
 Hurd took a solemn oath that he never would.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A 
 BONNET
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A 
 BONNET 
 
 MISS ELIZABETH MOORE was quite a phi- 
 losopher in her way, though no one would 
 have been more astonished than she to have been 
 told so. In fact, I doubt if her ideas about philoso- 
 phers were at all distinct. Had you insisted upon 
 a definition, she would have told you that Thorn- 
 bridge, being a busy place, had no use for a class of 
 individuals who talked instead of working, and who 
 spent their time in thinking about things instead of 
 buckling down and doing them. 
 
 Thornbridge was a town in which the spirit of 
 work reigned supreme, and the thrifty inhabitants 
 had very few idle moments in which to grow un- 
 happy or discontented ; they lived in an ideal and 
 Arcadian atmosphere, which was as yet unspoiled 
 by any current from the great sea of manufacturing 
 interests. The beauty of the country was, however, 
 beginning to attract a rapidly increasing summer 
 population to the picturesque old town, who, with 
 their fancy cottages and wonderful equipages, filled 
 the sturdy inhabitants with a kind of awe, which
 
 1 10 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 soon gave place to a hearty dislike, as the invaders 
 increased in numbers, and, without saying by your 
 leave, proceeded to erect casinos and bowling-alleys 
 and numberless other things for their own benefit, 
 into which the worthy natives received no invitation 
 to enter. Moreover, the knowledge of the fact that 
 the land obtained from the honest farmers for a 
 mere song was sold again to others for five and six 
 times the original amount aroused their righteous 
 indignation, which was not lessened by the visita- 
 tions of cruel and sweetly smiling ladies, who, on 
 some pretense or other, found their way into the 
 neat cottages and farmhouses, and who, by virtue 
 of a few fair words and a surprisingly few silver 
 coins, carried off old clocks, old spinning-wheels, and 
 old china from the simple farmers' wives and 
 daughters, to whom a little ready money seemed so 
 much more precious than the few household treas- 
 ures which they gave in return. 
 
 The substantial old farmhouse occupied by Miss 
 Elizabeth Moore and her niece, Delight, was on the 
 very outskirts of the village, and stood alone upon a 
 little breezy promontory commanding a charming 
 view of the village below. The house and several 
 acres of land had been Elizabeth's share of old 
 Farmer Moore's property after his death, and in 
 vain had been the offers of the relentless summer 
 boarders who would have liked to build upon this 
 desirable spot.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. Ill 
 
 Miss Elizabeth was firm on these occasions, 
 though firmness was by no means one of her ruling 
 characteristics ; she was, as her niece Delight often 
 said, much too impulsive, and had not her niece 
 been on hand to see that she remained unfaltering 
 in her resolutions at some such time, it is just possi- 
 ble that Miss Elizabeth might, dazzled by the offer 
 of so much money, have sold the house and land, 
 and realized what seemed to her an enormous for- 
 tune by the transaction. 
 
 At the time of which I speak it was a perfect 
 summer evening, with just the faintest breeze rus- 
 tling through the honeysuckles on the porch. Miss 
 Elizabeth sat stiffly in her high-backed rocker, with 
 her knitting in her hands, and her busy needles 
 clicked regardless of the fast-settling darkness, for 
 she always thought with scorn of those who had to 
 " look on " to knit. 
 
 Delight, quite unconscious of the graceful picture 
 she made, was seated upon the upper step, with her 
 head resting against one of the posts, about which 
 the honeysuckle twined, forming a leafy background 
 with its swaying tendrils and tassels, and contrasting 
 charmingly with the wavy brown locks, which re- 
 mained unruffled by the breeze. Her fine dark eyes 
 were fixed with an intensely thoughtful expression 
 upon a distant hill, and her hands were clasped in 
 her lap with a firmness which denoted a mind bent 
 upon solving some important problem.
 
 112 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 " No, Aunt Lizzie," she was saying, " we cannot 
 spare one cent to spend on a bonnet for me. You 
 know that the eggs did not bring in what we ex- 
 pected, and it will take the last of my school money 
 to pay for the flour on Saturday." 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " exclaimed Miss Elizabeth, " I 
 guess that man can afford to wait awhile for his 
 money. His daughter 's not in need of a bonnet, 
 judging by what I saw of combined tail-feathers and 
 flower-gardens on her head last Sunday. And as 
 for ribbons, why, she must have bought the stores 
 out. You must get you one with that kind of a high 
 crown, Delight," she added. 
 
 " Perhaps I may, after the term is over," replied 
 her niece, in a decided tone, which did not prevent 
 Miss Elizabeth from entering a final protest. 
 
 "The term over, indeed!" she exclaimed, indig- 
 nantly; "and the longest terms and the smallest 
 pay ! I declare it makes me provoked to think of 
 your teaching those aggravating little boys day in 
 and day out for an independence, and then not get- 
 ting yourself a bonnet even. It was only Tuesday 
 week when Deacon Jones told me that there was n't 
 a girl in the village with your ability that's what 
 he said and everybody with eyes knows that 
 there's not one that can hold a candle to you in 
 looks, if you 're not so stout and robust as Matilda 
 Robinson. If it was n't for the opening of the fair 
 I would n't feel so bad, but to see all the fine sum-
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 113 
 
 mer people in that old faded white thing, with the 
 ribbon worse than none, why " 
 
 " I 've thought how I can fix it up very nicely, 
 Aunt Lizzie," interrupted the girl. "And, after 
 all, what 's a bonnet ? A bonnet is not every- 
 thing." 
 
 " What 's a bonnet ! " repeated Miss Elizabeth. 
 " A bonnet is everything. Don't interrupt me. I 
 have n't lived in Thornbridge almost half a century 
 to have my experience go for nothing. A first-class 
 stylish bonnet or hat on a woman's head is the next 
 best thing to a crown of glory. No man ever yet 
 realized the importance of a bonnet. A man wears 
 a hat to keep his head warm or cool, or to shade his 
 eyes, and he hasn't intelligence enough to know 
 that a woman does not do the same. What sensible 
 woman ever bought a bonnet just because it was 
 warm, or cool, or shady? What she wants is to 
 have it become her, and if she is once satisfied that 
 it really does, she '11 find, and her friends '11 find, 
 that she will wear that bonnet, and that heat and 
 cold, or light and shade, are n't the consideration. 
 And so," concluded Miss Elizabeth, after pausing 
 for breath, " you just remember that the bonnet is 
 first as well as topmost. Get on a first-class bonnet, 
 and whether you are in Thornbridge, or sailing up 
 the aisle of St. Peter's in Rome, you can look the 
 whole world in the face and wear just whatever 
 kind of dress you like."
 
 114 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 Delight listened with great enjoyment to her 
 aunt's earnest discourse; but all Miss Elizabeth's 
 eloquence failed to alter her niece's determination, 
 and the following morning saw her depart for 
 school, taking with her the necessary money to 
 pay for their last barrel of flour. 
 
 " And nothing left for bonnets," mused her aunt, 
 in a tone of resignation, as she watched Delight's 
 trim figure disappear down the road, wearing the 
 neat but well-worn black gown, which had been 
 made over and turned until even Delight's ingenuity 
 had reached its limit. 
 
 After finishing the morning's work, which Miss 
 Elizabeth never allowed to be a long process, she 
 put on her sun-bonnet, and, trowel in hand, stepped 
 out into the garden to spend an hour among her 
 flowers, for the garden was her chief pride and joy. 
 She had gone only a few steps when she became 
 aware that a light wagonette was stopping at the 
 gate, and a handsome, athletic young fellow, who 
 had reined up a pair of spirited grays, jumped lightly 
 to the ground, and helped two elegantly dressed 
 ladies to alight. He remained, inspecting the 
 horses, while they advanced up the path toward 
 Miss Elizabeth, who at once put them down on the 
 list of would-be purchasers of her land, and pre- 
 pared to meet them with a dignity and firmness 
 v.-hich should do credit to Delight's admonitions. 
 So she held her trowel still in hand, and bowed
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 11$ 
 
 stiffly from the depths of her sun-bonnet in return 
 to their cordial salutation. 
 
 Young Mrs. Boylston, the elder of the two visit- 
 ors, did most of the talking. " This is Miss Moore, 
 I believe," she began, condescendingly ; " at least 
 they told me at the post-office that Miss Moore 
 lived here." 
 
 "Yes, I am Miss Moore," responded Miss Eliza- 
 beth, shortly. 
 
 " You certainly have a most charming view here, 
 and the location is perfect. I suppose the view of 
 the village is even prettier from the piazza," Mrs. 
 Boylston suggested. 
 
 Miss Elizabeth remained immovably in the path. 
 " Yes," she said, dryly, " it is somewhat ; but," 
 she added briefly, " it 's no use for you to look at it, 
 for the place is not for sale, not one square inch 
 of it." 
 
 The ladies seemed much amused at this, and 
 Mrs. Boylston hastened to explain that they did not 
 care to buy any land. " I have all the land I can 
 manage now, Miss Moore, and my sister and I are 
 merely driving about the country to find from which 
 of the high points the view is prettiest, and," 
 she added, sweetly, " we thought that perhaps you 
 would ask us up on your fine breezy piazza for a 
 moment." 
 
 Miss Elizabeth thawed at once, and endeavored 
 to atone for her previous incivility by bringing the
 
 Il6 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 most comfortable chairs for them to rest upon, and 
 begging that they would make themselves at home 
 and stay as long as they chose. " I would ask you 
 in," she added, " but I know it 's nicer out here in 
 the breeze." 
 
 " We should like to take a peep at your house if 
 you 're willing," both the ladies exclaimed, and Miss 
 Elizabeth led the way into the cosy sitting-room, 
 which they inspected with apparent interest. "I 
 see you have one of those old clocks, Miss Moore," 
 remarked the younger lady, advancing towards the 
 tall timepiece in the corner. " I don't suppose 
 you care much for an old clock like this. I would 
 rather like to take one back to remember Thorn- 
 bridge by. Don't you want to sell it to me ? " 
 
 Miss Elizabeth bridled up at once. " No, I don't 
 think of putting up my things at auction just yet ; 
 and as for relics, you will have to look for them 
 somewhere else. Moreover, a clock that 's in first- 
 class condition, and keeps the best of time, is not 
 much of a relic to my mind, if it is old." 
 
 The visitors, beginning to realize that they 
 would hardly reap the desired harvest here, pre- 
 pared to withdraw, after thanking Miss Moore for 
 her kindness. Mrs. Boylston, however, whose eyes 
 rested lovingly upon the heavy brass candlesticks, 
 determined to make one final effort in that 
 direction. 
 
 "I wish I knew where I could buy some candle-
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 1 1/ 
 
 sticks," she exclaimed. "We have such trouble 
 getting our rooms lighted up here, where there is 
 no gas. I don't care for very nice ones; almost 
 anything would do, such as those, for instance," 
 pointing to the ones on the mantel. " Of course I 
 know that you would not part with those," she 
 hastily added, seeing Miss Moore preparing to 
 bridle, "but if you could tell me where to go " 
 As she spoke, Mrs. Boylston glanced into the mirror 
 over the fireplace and straightened her bonnet, and 
 at that moment Miss Elizabeth's mood changed like 
 a flash. She would sell the old brass candlesticks ; 
 she did not care for them, and she did n't believe 
 Delight did ; and there would be some money for 
 the new bonnet. 
 
 She surprised the ladies by remarking, " Well, I 
 don't know as I care so much for the candlesticks, 
 but it is quite against my principles to sell things. 
 Still, just to oblige you, I might be willing to part 
 with them." 
 
 Mrs. Boylston's eyes brightened with pleasure, 
 but she only said, in a careless tone : " It would 
 save me a good deal of trouble if you will let me 
 have them. I will give you fifty cents for the 
 pair." 
 
 "Very well, you may have them," said Miss 
 Elizabeth, stiffly, already regretting that she had 
 not shown them the door instead of humiliating 
 herself to this extent. She had thought that the
 
 Il8 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 candlesticks would be worth more ; but she was no 
 judge of their value, and fifty cents would hardly 
 buy Delight the sort of new bonnet she desired. 
 She stepped into the china closet to get a piece of 
 paper in which to wrap up the candlesticks, when, 
 looking around, she saw that her visitors had 
 followed, and were remarking that her old blue 
 china just matched some that they had. Would n't 
 she sell those two platters and the blue and white 
 bowl ? She would give a dollar for each platter and 
 fifty cents for the bowl. Miss Elizabeth prepared 
 to be indignant and to reject this offer with scorn, 
 but instead how she happened to do so she 
 could not have told, except that the idea of that 
 bonnet obliterated all others she found herself in 
 possession of three crisp dollar bills, and through 
 the window she caught sight of the handsome young 
 man stowing something under the seat, while the 
 ladies talked and laughed in an animated way that 
 grated terribly upon her ears. 
 
 Somehow she could not seem to settle down 
 again to her work. She took up the trowel and 
 tried gardening, but only for a few moments, then 
 she came indoors again and sat down in her high- 
 backed chair and rocked ; sat there absolutely idle, 
 if one whose thoughts are so active can be termed 
 idle. And the more she thought, the more she 
 became convinced that Delight would not be 
 pleased with the transaction. Then she decided
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 1 19 
 
 not to tell her where the money had come from 
 until some time after the bonnet had been 
 purchased. 
 
 Delight came home that afternoon in unusual 
 spirits, and Miss Elizabeth watched at the doorway 
 with pride and satisfaction as she approached with 
 glowing cheeks and parted lips, which disclosed 
 two rows of the whitest little teeth. 
 
 "Visitors at school to-day, Aunt Lizzie," she 
 began, seating herself upon the steps, "and such 
 interesting ones, too. None of your old fogies who 
 insist upon making the boys recite something that 
 they don't know." 
 
 "Tell me all about it, dearie," said her aunt, set- 
 tling down with her knitting, and beginning to won- 
 der how she should ever bring in the money for the 
 bonnet successfully. 
 
 "Well, you see, auntie, they arrived just a few 
 minutes before recess, with dear old Judge Felton, 
 who always has been so kind to me; two beauti- 
 fully dressed ladies, and, oh, such a very handsome 
 young man ! The judge introduced them as Mrs. 
 Boylston, her sister, Miss Hollis, and her brother- 
 in-law, Mr. Harold Boylston. Judge Felton made 
 some embarrassing remarks about my being his pet 
 school-marm, and I realized how very shabby my 
 old black dress looked ; but they were most agree- 
 able, and staid and talked to me all through recess, 
 after which they drove off in a very stylish wagon-
 
 I2O THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 ette. Mr. Boylston seemed very much interested 
 in my method of teaching the boys, and said he 
 should like to come up again some day, if I was 
 willing." 
 
 " How very nice of him ! " remarked Miss Eliza- 
 beth, dryly. 
 
 " Yes," continued her niece, " and the Boylstons 
 are the people who have built that lovely new house 
 at the other end of the village, where we saw the 
 tennis-courts being marked out." 
 
 Miss Elizabeth did not broach the bonnet ques- 
 tion that evening, but decided to wait until a more 
 favorable moment arrived. 
 
 The following afternoon she sat down with her 
 knitting to await her niece's return, and she had 
 just begun to wonder if Delight were not later than 
 usual, when she heard voices, and one of them was 
 distinctly masculine. As they reached the gate, she 
 recognized the same young man who had driven the 
 spirited grays, and he carried her niece's books with 
 the same careless ease that had characterized his 
 management of the horses. He lifted his hat and 
 departed, and Delight smilingly approached her 
 aunt. "That was Mr. Boylston," she remarked. 
 
 " He is evidently very much interested in your 
 method of teaching," Miss Elizabeth said, a little 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Yes, he really is very much interested in the 
 school work, and he says that he thinks of teaching
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 121 
 
 for a couple of terms, just for the practise, now that 
 he has finished college." 
 
 " Oh ! " said her aunt, doubtfully. Then she con- 
 tinued, " Do you realize that it is only three days 
 before the fair, and you have n't done a thing about 
 that bonnet ? " 
 
 " So it is," replied Delight, gravely, preparing to 
 concentrate her whole mind upon this vital subject ; 
 " but I had a bright idea to-day while the boys were 
 doing mental arithmetic, and I 'm sure you '11 think 
 my new bonnet a success when you see it, and not 
 a cent of expense, either." 
 
 " No, dear ; you are to have a brand-new, stylish 
 bonnet, and it shall cost something ; and here is 
 the money for it," she added, drawing the three 
 bills triumphantly out of her pocket. 
 
 " Why, Aunt Lizzie, where did that come from ? " 
 cried her niece, in surprise. 
 
 "Never mind; the fairies are around sometimes, 
 and why not here as well as elsewhere ? " 
 
 But no, Delight would not be satisfied. She 
 would not use the money till she knew where it 
 came from, and, little by little, she drew the truth 
 from her unwilling aunt. And then it was that 
 Miss Elizabeth began to realize what a very dread- 
 ful thing she had done. How could she for an in- 
 stant suppose that Delight would use a cent of such 
 money? How could she have tolerated even the 
 slightest suggestion of such a transaction ? Had n't
 
 122 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 she a particle of pride left ? Oh, it was too humili- 
 ating! and Delight burst into tears. Miss Eliza- 
 beth was in the depths of despair ; she had thought 
 that she was doing it for the best, but she saw now 
 that it was a great mistake. She would send the 
 money back, however ; take it back herself, if nec- 
 essary ; anything, if Delight would only not feel so 
 badly. 
 
 Here her niece's indignation against Mrs. Boyl- 
 ston broke forth : " To think of entering people's 
 houses on false pretenses, for the purpose of cheat- 
 ing them out of a few things which they did not 
 know the value of. Three dollars, indeed ! And 
 that young Mr. Boylston was with them at the time ; 
 and then he dared to walk home with me after that 
 up to the very gate ! Interested in school-teach- 
 ing ! I presume he wishes to have as much fun 
 out of the natives in his way as his sister-in-law 
 does in hers ; but he will find that his amusement 
 has ceased where I am concerned." 
 
 There was to be no school on the following day, 
 but Delight came down earlier than usual, and Miss 
 Elizabeth timidly watched her determined expres- 
 sion and decided step as she moved about the 
 house, seemingly unconscious of her aunt's strenu- 
 ous efforts to atone for her unpardonable offense 
 by preparing as many of her favorite dishes as pos- 
 sible. Delight, however, exhibited but very little 
 appetite for breakfast, but noticing the expression
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 12$ 
 
 of deep gloom settling over her aunt's face when 
 she had twice refused to taste the delicately browned 
 waffles, she impulsively threw her arms about Miss 
 Elizabeth's neck, and, kissing her, exclaimed : 
 
 "Don't you worry a bit more about anything, 
 auntie. I am the most ungrateful girl living, and 
 you are the sweetest and most unselfish creature in 
 the whole world. I will make things all right, and 
 you shall see me in a bonnet which you shall be 
 proud of." 
 
 The breakfast dishes cleared away, Delight set 
 to work at once upon the old and well-worn bonnet. 
 It was a light straw, trimmed with buff ribbons, 
 which had long since faded into a doubtful white. 
 The straw was still in very good condition, although 
 the shape was sadly out of style. Miss Eliza- 
 beth eyed it mournfully, but Delight set to work 
 with an amount of assurance which could not but 
 inspire the most skeptical with confidence. She 
 soaked the old straw thoroughly in water, and then, 
 taking possession of the brown bread mould, shaped 
 the crown skilfully over its top, and, after bending 
 the brim of the bonnet up at just the proper angle, 
 fastened it firmly in place by winding string about 
 it and left it to dry. " That shape will be just the 
 latest agony," she announced to Miss Elizabeth. 
 " And now for my ribbon. I 'm going to dye it 
 cardinal." 
 
 She produced a small package of red powder,
 
 124 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 and, after dissolving it in water, plunged in all the 
 faded buff ribbon, which came forth a beautiful 
 shade of dark red ; and, when it was ironed out, 
 even Miss Elizabeth acknowledged that it could 
 hardly have been told from new. "Though it is 
 perhaps a trifle stiff," she added. 
 
 " Do you suppose that those old pink roses would 
 take the color, too ? " questioned Delight, a moment 
 later. 
 
 To which her aunt replied, " We can see," and 
 brought them down forthwith. 
 
 Delight let them sink deep into the red liquid, 
 and then drew them carefully out, and hung them 
 to dry near the stove. They really looked remark- 
 ably well. 
 
 By this time the straw was dry and pressed 
 firmly into shape, and it now only remained to 
 be trimmed. Here Delight showed herself mis- 
 tress of her art, for her bows never flopped down 
 when they should have stood up, nor stuck out 
 where they should have gone in, and she caught 
 up the red roses on one side in just the most be- 
 coming way, showing enough to let you know that 
 they were red roses, and yet not too much, to thrust 
 upon your consciousness the fact that they were not 
 perhaps the most perfect kind of roses. 
 
 At last it was finished, and the successful artist 
 tied the bow under her chin, and stood before the 
 old-fashioned mirror inspecting her morning's work.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 12$ 
 
 " It is perfectly lovely," Miss Elizabeth declared, 
 with enthusiasm, " and I should think it had come 
 straight from Paris." 
 
 After dinner Delight arrayed herself in her best 
 gown (it was a pale gray cashmere, and perfectly 
 simple, but it fitted her graceful figure without a 
 wrinkle), and then, after adjusting the new bonnet, 
 which still filled her aunt with awe and admiration, 
 she drew on her silk gloves, and prepared to start out. 
 
 Miss Elizabeth did not dare to ask any questions 
 with regard to her mission, but she did venture to 
 call after her in a frightened tone, " Don't do any- 
 thing that you may be sorry for, Delight." 
 
 " No, Aunt Lizzie," she returned, in a calm voice, 
 as she moved slowly down the walk, stopping only 
 long enough to put one dark -red rose into her 
 buttonhole. 
 
 A little later in the afternoon Mrs. Boylston was 
 languidly reclining in a hammock on the airy 
 upper veranda which overlooked the wide lawn, 
 where her sister and young Mr. Boylston had been 
 engaged in a game of tennis, for which, however, 
 they seemed to feel very little enthusiasm, as they 
 had returned to the upper piazza. Miss Hollis had 
 dropped into a steamer chair, and young Boylston 
 was sitting upon the balustrade deeply intent upon 
 trying to balance his racquet upon one finger. At 
 this moment a servant appeared, bringing word that 
 Miss Moore would like to see Mrs. Boylston.
 
 126 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 "Miss Moore?" queried the lady. "Who can 
 she be? Well, ask her to come up here. Why, 
 she must be the woman who sold me the candle- 
 sticks and those fascinating platters," she continued. 
 " I saw a platter like them in town not long ago, 
 and the man at the shop asked me seven dollars for 
 it, and I got mine for a dollar apiece, Harold." 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed her brother - in - law, 
 jumping up, " I call that a most shameful business, 
 cheating country people out of their few household 
 gods ? To my mind, it 's the smallest kind of 
 swindling when the rich cheat the poor, and I 
 should n't think you would be overproud of the 
 transaction." 
 
 The conversation was suddenly arrested by the 
 arrival of Miss Moore upon the scene. It was a 
 trying ordeal for her, but she boldly faced the 
 enemy's guns, and, with sparkling eyes and head 
 erect, advanced without flinching. Both the ladies 
 rose, and greeted her with a cool friendliness which 
 hardly disguised their evident surprise at receiving 
 a call from the pretty schoolmistress. Harold 
 Boylston's pleasure was quite evident, and he 
 brought forward a large arm-chair, saying, " Won't 
 you sit here, Miss Moore ? " 
 
 But Delight remained standing. "I wished to 
 see you only for a moment, Mrs. Boylston," she 
 began, in a clear voice, "to return some money 
 which my aunt received from you the other day.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 12? 
 
 We are not in the habit of parting with our house- 
 hold possessions, which we value rather for their 
 family associations than for their actual worth, which 
 you doubtless appreciate better than we." Mrs. 
 Boylston winced. " Pray accept the platters and 
 the candlesticks," she continued, "if they please 
 you, as it is a great pleasure for simple country 
 people like ourselves to contribute in any way 
 toward the happiness or amusement " (here her 
 eyes rested coldly upon Harold) "of those who, 
 like yourself, can so easily gratify every wish. We 
 are only too glad to give them to you, Mrs. Boyl- 
 ston. Good afternoon," and, thrusting the three 
 dollars into that offended lady's hand, Miss Moore 
 swept from the piazza with the scornful air of a 
 princess. 
 
 " Is n't she just superb ? " exclaimed young Boyl- 
 ston, warmly. " She crushed you completely, Nelly, 
 and " 
 
 " To think of an ignorant country girl like that 
 daring to confront me with such impudence ! " cried 
 Mrs. Boylston, angrily. 
 
 "You didn't get half you deserved," rejoined 
 Harold, swinging himself over the railing, with 
 asperity. I wish she had told you what she really 
 thought of you. If that is your idea of an ignorant 
 country girl, it 's not mine ; and as for style, why, 
 there was an atmosphere about that bonnet which 
 few of your New Yorkers could rival. I 'm off for
 
 128 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 a constitutional, ladies, so you can fight it out 
 between you." 
 
 As he disappeared across the lawn, Mrs. Boylston 
 sank back into her hammock with a sigh. " I do so 
 hate scenes," she murmured; "and Harold of late 
 seems to take pleasure in saying unkind, cutting 
 things to me. I 'm sure I have never objected to 
 his flirting with any number of country girls, and 
 I don't know why he should be so ugly about a few 
 old candlesticks. But I shall have those things sent 
 right back this very evening. After that girl's absurd 
 conduct, I would not have them in the house another 
 night." 
 
 Meanwhile Delight was walking briskly along the 
 shady lane. She felt that she had passed through 
 the trying ordeal with success ; perhaps her display 
 of pride and spirit had made her appear ridiculous, 
 and even now they were probably laughing at her ; 
 but she did not care. They might laugh on the 
 surface, but they knew down in their hearts that she 
 had had the best of the encounter ; and Mr. Boyl- 
 ston had really looked quite as if he thought so, too. 
 How becoming a tennis suit was to him ! 
 
 Just at this point she arrived at the cross-roads, 
 where, much to her amazement, she encountered 
 that very individual turning the corner with a calm 
 and unruffled demeanor, which told no tales of his 
 brisk run across the fields. Delight, however, re-
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 1 29 
 
 sented his assured air, and showed none of the sur- 
 prise which she felt at his sudden appearance, but 
 regarded him with perfect indifference. 
 
 " Are you provoked with me, too ? " he inquired, 
 in an injured tone. " I declare, I am so afraid of 
 you that the power of speech has quite deserted me 
 after the magnificent way in which you sailed into 
 Mrs. Boylston just now. I 'm not sure that you will 
 have anything to say to me, though I can't see why 
 I am responsible for people who are only my con- 
 nections by marriage. Please may I walk home 
 with you, Miss Moore ? " 
 
 Delight, who had determined upon her course of 
 action, replied ironically that she was glad to see 
 that fright had not robbed him of the use of his 
 legs as well as of his tongue, but that it would be 
 quite unnecessary for him to go any farther in that 
 direction. 
 
 "I am glad of that," he responded, gayly. "I 
 hate to do necessary things, and I know you do, 
 only you won't acknowledge it. When I walk with 
 a pretty girl I do it not because it is necessary, but 
 because it is agreeable." 
 
 " Agreeable to whom ? " interrupted Delight. 
 
 " To both of us," replied Boylston, looking into 
 her eyes with one of his most irresistible glances. 
 
 "Speak for yourself," replied his companion, 
 coolly. 
 
 " That 's a very dangerous remark to make to any
 
 I3O THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 impetuous young fellow," responded he, medita- 
 tively; "it played the dickens with poor John 
 Alden, you know, and left Miles Standish disconso- 
 late." 
 
 " It is certainly a rather superfluous remark to 
 make to you, Mr. Boylston," said Delight, who found 
 it most difficult to remain stern and unbending. 
 
 Boylston decided to try a different tack, so he 
 stopped suddenly, and lifting his hat said, gravely : 
 " If my company is really distasteful to you, Miss 
 Moore, I will not thrust it upon you any longer, but 
 will bid you good-afternoon." 
 
 "Good-afternoon," responded Delight, sweetly, 
 continuing to walk rapidly away from him, and with- 
 out a glance in his direction. 
 
 This was not satisfactory, however, and Harold 
 Boylston started at once after the departing figure. 
 " On second thoughts," he said, reaching her side, 
 " I think I won't say good-afternoon just yet." 
 
 " Second thoughts are not always the best," re- 
 plied Delight, greeting his sudden reappearance with 
 perfect indifference. 
 
 " I don't care about their being so always ; it is 
 enough satisfaction to have them best just now," 
 said Boylston, who saw with much pleasure that a 
 reassuring twinkle was beginning to manifest itself 
 in his companion's eyes. 
 
 " It is no use," she laughed, " I really can't be 
 provoked with you, you 're so absurd."
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 131 
 
 ' I don't know why you should be provoked with 
 me," Boylston protested, with an air of injured inno- 
 cence. " I have n't done anything worse than to tell 
 my sister-in-law what I thought of her little bric-a- 
 brac transactions, in not the most complimentary 
 terms, either. Why did n't your aunt snub her, as 
 she deserved, on the spot ? I do not see how she 
 came to let my worthy connections indulge in their 
 favorite pastime. I 'm afraid she has not your 
 spirit. I wish you had been there to give them a 
 piece of your mind." There was such an unmis- 
 takable ring of sincerity in his voice that Delight 
 could not but relent, and then, as Aunt Elizabeth 
 must be vindicated, she told him all about the 
 bonnet. 
 
 " It is a perfect stunner," cried Boylston, enthusi- 
 astically, regarding her with undisguised admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " Only my fingers are rather pink still," said De- 
 light, drawing off one of her silk gloves and eyeing 
 her finger-tips ruefully. " But," she continued,"! 
 was very cross to Aunt Elizabeth when I came home 
 and found out what she had done. I was just hor- 
 rid, but you can't think how humiliated I felt." 
 
 "Yes, I can," broke in Boylston, warmly. "I 
 know just how you felt ; you hated us all, and knew 
 that I was just as bad as the rest, only worse." 
 
 " Yes," assented Delight, frankly, " I thought a 
 great many unpleasant things about you, and said
 
 132 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 that I did not care to amuse the summer residents 
 in company with old clocks and candlesticks." 
 
 " I '11 renounce my claims to being a summer 
 resident and become a native, if you '11 only restore 
 me to favor and be friends," he protested. 
 
 By the time Miss Moore's gate had been reached 
 this request had evidently been granted, and Miss 
 Elizabeth, who had been anxiously awaiting her 
 niece's return, was much astonished to see her come 
 back quite on the best of terms with that very same 
 not-to-be-tolerated young man. 
 
 She showed no surprise, however, when Delight 
 introduced Mr. Boylston, but invited him to come in 
 and rest awhile after his walk, which he did without 
 waiting for further urging, and spent a good long 
 hour. His last words before taking leave were : " I 
 shall be on the lookout for that lovely red bonnet at 
 the fair to-morrow." 
 
 When he had gone, Miss Elizabeth listened with 
 great interest to the afternoon's proceedings. At 
 the end of the recital she drew a long sigh of relief. 
 " But it does n't seem as though you snubbed the 
 young man much," she finally remarked. 
 
 " I tried my best, Aunt Lizzie, but he would n't 
 be snubbed," said Delight, thoughtfully. 
 
 That night Mrs. Boylston's man brought up a 
 bundle addressed to Miss Moore, which, when 
 opened, was found to contain two platters, a blue 
 and white bowl, and a pair of brass candlesticks.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 133 
 
 Harold Boylston had promised to escort the 
 ladies to the agricultural fair, and they insisted 
 upon his being in constant attendance upon them, 
 and upon his telling them all about the horses, the 
 cows, and the sheep. Miss Hollis made him ask 
 first how many inches the prize squash measured, 
 and then how much the largest bunch of grapes 
 weighed, while Mrs. Boylston sent him to inquire if 
 she could buy any of the prize apples afterwards, 
 until his much-tried patience quite gave way. For, 
 in the distance, he saw Delight's red bonnet, now 
 pausing beside the fancy sheep, while he must needs 
 examine squashes, and then inspecting the prize 
 bantams, while his sister-in-law dragged him over 
 to look at a kind of lawn-mower that would roll the 
 grass in the most approved style. Morever, his 
 interest in lawn - mowers was not increased by his 
 knowledge of the fact that his own classmate, 
 Charlie Felton, who had proved to be old Judge 
 Felton's nephew, was by Delight's side, and acted 
 as though he expected to remain there for the rest 
 of the day. 
 
 He suddenly slipped away, just as Mrs. Boylston 
 was looking at the Plymouth Rock hens, and 
 hastened towards the fascinating red bonnet. De- 
 light seemed very glad to see him, and Felton 
 greeted him with evident surprise. 
 
 " Why, where did you come from, Boylston ? " 
 
 " I 'm so glad to see you, Charlie, and my sister
 
 134 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 and Miss Hollis are dying to speak to you. Don't 
 you see them over there ? I '11 take care of Miss 
 Moore while you run over and say how d 'ye do." 
 
 "I should be charmed to see them again, of 
 course," exclaimed Felton, whose countenance, how- 
 ever, failed to express the greatest pleasure at the 
 immediate prospect ; " but I have promised to 
 show Miss Moore some of my uncle's prize apples 
 first, so I '11 see you a little later," and Felton pre- 
 pared to move on. 
 
 His friend was not to be thus easily baffled. 
 " I 'm going to show Miss Moore the giant turnips," 
 he persisted, "while you just speak to my sister. 
 See, she 's is waving her parasol now." 
 
 There was nothing for Felton to do but to go, 
 and his friend smiled with satisfaction at his re- 
 luctant departure. " Suppose we walk down to the 
 end of the grove, where there is n't such a crowd, 
 and where we can cool off," he suggested. 
 
 " But you were going to take me to see the giant 
 turnips," protested Delight ; " and, besides, if we go 
 off there, Mr. Felton will never find us." 
 . " I don't intend that he shall," was Boylston's 
 mental comment, but he only said : " Oh, I don't 
 think he will have any difficulty. You don't sup- 
 pose that I really wanted to show you giant turnips, 
 do you ? I hate such things. It is bad enough for 
 such unpalatable substances as turnips to exist 
 without their having the effrontery to grow to any
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 135 
 
 such unwieldy size. I was only trying to offset 
 Felton's apples. But if you're so interested in 
 those monstrosities, we will go up into that hot 
 place and look at them." 
 
 As Delight expressed no great desire to do so, 
 they strolled down through the grove which led out 
 of the grounds, and Boylston espied an inviting 
 rustic bench, on which they might rest in the shade 
 of the tall pines. 
 
 Felton, meanwhile, had been cordially welcomed 
 by Mrs. Boylston and her sister, who at once appro- 
 priated him in a manner he hardly relished. Harold 
 had disappeared, and he saw no means of escape, 
 so he asked the ladies to come up and look at the 
 prize turnips, where he hoped to encounter that 
 deceitful individual. 
 
 Harold, however, was not in the vicinity of the 
 turnips. About this time, Mrs. Boylston casually 
 remarked, "I wonder what has become of Harold," 
 and Felton at once rose to the emergency. 
 
 " He is probably having hard work to find us in 
 this crowd. Now, if you ladies will take a seat on 
 that bench, I will look him up." 
 
 "Oh, no matter, Mr. Felton," they exclaimed, 
 reassuringly, "don't trouble yourself about him." 
 They were both more than satisfied with his society. 
 
 " It is no trouble at all," he hastened to assure 
 them. " I will find him in just one moment," and 
 he dashed off into the yard.
 
 136 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 " What a handsome fellow he is ! " commented 
 Mrs. Boylston ; " and so very obliging and energetic. 
 Now Harold is so lazy." 
 
 " He is too obliging," Miss Hollis rejoined. " He 
 need not have been so anxious to find Harold ; it 
 was just an excuse to get away. I don't see why 
 you wanted to see Harold, when we have had so 
 much of his society, and I 'm sure he was grumpy 
 enough when I asked him about those ugly little 
 pigs with their tails all out of curl. You see if 
 Mr. Felton comes back with Harold, that's all. 
 What uncomfortable seats these are. I wish the 
 man who made them had to sit in them for the rest 
 of his life." 
 
 " There would n't be much rest of his life if he 
 did," replied her sister. 
 
 " Don't," faintly murmured Miss Hollis. " How 
 can you joke in this hot, wretched place ? " 
 
 During this time, Felton, who had reached the 
 yard, was pausing a moment to think. " I might 
 have known Boylston would skip off and leave me 
 for the rest of the day, but I '11 get even with him 
 on the monopolizing business. He is probably 
 down in the grove." So saying, Felton hastened 
 in that direction, and was soon rewarded by a 
 glimpse of the most attractive red bonnet not far 
 away. 
 
 " Now I call this true enjoyment," Boylston was 
 just saying. " This is my first experience of agri-
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 137 
 
 cultural fairs, and I think they are the best fun in 
 the world." 
 
 At this point a most unwelcome voice inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " So this is the way you show Miss Moore prize 
 turnips, is it ? Boylston, you are a man of excellent 
 taste." 
 
 " That 's why I let the turnips alone," responded 
 Harold. 
 
 " It is perfect up here in the shade," continued 
 Felton, " and I 'm sorry to break up your tite-a-tete, 
 but your sister sent me after you, and she wants 
 you immediately. I told her I would send you back 
 at once. You will find her up there by those tur- 
 nips you spoke of." 
 
 Harold Boylston rose reluctantly. " Suppose we 
 all go up together to see those apples, Felton ? 
 Won't you come up, Miss Moore ? " 
 
 " No ; I think I will cool off a little longer," said 
 Delight, glancing mischievously at Felton, who had 
 dropped into Boylston's seat. "And remember 
 that your sister is waiting for you." 
 
 Boylston strode off, leaving the field and the 
 rustic bench in possession of his friend, who took 
 no pains to conceal his pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. Boylston and Miss Hollis saw him approach 
 through the crowd. " Here we have been sitting 
 alone on this board for a perfect age," they both 
 cried. " What have you done with Mr. Felton ? "
 
 138 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 " What did you send him after me for ? Could n't 
 you do without me for a few minutes? Felton 
 knows a sight more about pigs and turnips than I 
 do. I did my part hunting up an interesting man 
 for you, and it 's not my fault if you can't hold on to 
 him for five minutes. I could n't very well chain 
 him up for you." 
 
 " I did n't send him for you, Harold. I just said 
 I wondered what had become of you, and off he 
 rushed ; but I supposed, of course, he would come 
 back." 
 
 " I told you he would n't," put in her sister. 
 " And now, Harold, please find the wagonette and 
 drive us home. I am tired to death of animals and 
 vegetables, and I think agricultural fairs are per- 
 fectly horrid. I have been once to see what they 
 are like, and now that I know, I shall never come 
 again." 
 
 Harold found the horses without a word, and 
 drove them home in solemn silence. Mrs. Boylston 
 was most enthusiastic about the lovely view as they 
 drove along, but he was only conscious that he had 
 left Felton in possession of the rustic seat and the 
 bewitching owner of the red bonnet. 
 
 Felton had always spent his vacations with his 
 uncle in Thornbridge, and he and Delight were old 
 friends. This time he had only run down for two 
 or three days, and Boylston learned with pleasure 
 the following day that he had gone back to town.
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 139 
 
 During the weeks which followed, Boylston be- 
 came what Miss Elizabeth termed "steady com- 
 pany." He and Delight were the best of friends, 
 and as her vacation had begun, he had ample chance 
 to indulge in ideal drives, walks, and talks. But 
 the best of friends must part, and the brightest days 
 will end, and Harold's good times were brought to 
 a close by a telegram from his father, which an- 
 nounced that his immediate presence in town was 
 both desirable and necessary. He had really for- 
 gotten during the last few weeks that there were 
 such words as time or town. Now he suddenly 
 realized how very pleasant it had all been, and how 
 he should miss Delight's dark eyes and enchanting 
 smile. He tried to persuade himself, however, that 
 it was all a fleeting summer episode. He should 
 not think so much about Delight when he was once 
 in town, and she she would forget him, of course, 
 very soon. Would she ? This last thought did not 
 give him the satisfaction that he had expected to 
 derive from it. He decided to take the evening 
 train up to the city, and in the afternoon he went 
 up and bade Delight and Miss Elizabeth good-by. 
 Delight took his announcement with a calmness 
 which did not please him as it should have done, 
 and she was provokingly silent while Miss Elizabeth 
 protested how much they should miss him. He had 
 determined to leave in the highest of spirits, in 
 which they were to share ; but his efforts did not
 
 140 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 seem to be crowned with success, and his jokes 
 failed to call forth any response from Delight's 
 abstracted gaze. At last he rose to go. 
 
 " I shall look for a continuation of my good times 
 next summer, Miss Moore," he said, shaking hands 
 with Delight. 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Boylston. We shall always be 
 glad to see you," she replied, quietly, steadily re- 
 turning his searching look. And Boylston, lifting 
 his hat, walked rapidly down through the long rows 
 of hollyhocks, which he fancied closed behind him, 
 shutting him out from all that was best and most 
 beautiful. 
 
 His sister was not going back to town until the 
 following week. Having packed his valise and 
 swallowed a hasty supper, he set out for the station, 
 after refusing the ladies' offer to drive him down to 
 the train, as he hoped that the walk would make 
 him feel better. By the time he reached the station, 
 however, he felt much worse. If Delight had cared 
 anything for him she could not have said good-by 
 so calmly. Would she forget him as soon, as he 
 had gone ? He knew that he could not forget her 
 for one moment, nor could he deceive himself longer 
 on that score. He loved her, and always should love 
 her, not less as time went on, but more and more. 
 How unfeeling he had been to leave without a word ! 
 He deserved her utmost scorn. 
 
 While he stood waiting for the down -train, the
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 train from the city came in, and he caught sight 
 of Felton alighting with bag, fishing-tackle, and 
 tennis -racquet. He had come down for his vaca- 
 tion. 
 
 " How d 'ye do, Boylston ? " he called out, cheer- 
 fully. " So you 're off on the eight o'clock train, 
 are you ? " 
 
 Boylston's feelings underwent a sudden change. 
 A wild jealousy took possession of him, and with it 
 came a sudden determination. The eight o'clock 
 train was rapidly coming into sight. 
 
 " I say, Felton," he cried, grasping him by the 
 hand. 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded Felton. 
 
 " Go up and spend the evening with my worthy 
 relatives. I had to rush off quite suddenly, and 
 I fancy that they are rather upset. I '11 be ever- 
 lastingly grateful if you'll go there to-night, 
 Charlie." 
 
 Felton hesitated. He had meant to stroll over to 
 the Moore's, but he would have the field there to 
 himself, now that Boylston had gone, so he promised, 
 and departed. 
 
 Harold entered the station, and deposited his bag 
 in the waiting-room. When he emerged upon the 
 platform again, the last car of the down-train was 
 just disappearing from view. 
 
 " Lost your train, Mr. Boylston ? " queried the 
 station-master.
 
 142 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, calmly. "There is nothing 
 now till the midnight train, is there ? " 
 
 Delight was sitting on her favorite step, with her 
 head resting among the honeysuckles. She had just 
 returned from a walk to a neighbor's, where she and 
 Miss Elizabeth had been invited to tea. She had 
 pleaded a headache, and had come home, leaving 
 her aunt to enjoy herself with the others. 
 
 The moon was slowly rising above the hills, but 
 Delight was quite unconscious of the fact. Two 
 large tears were rolling down her cheeks, as she sat 
 there, silent and motionless. In her hand she held 
 her red bonnet, which she had taken off ; she looked 
 at it, scornfully, and at last tossed it impatiently on 
 to the step by her side, and buried her face in the 
 honeysuckles. 
 
 Can Aunt Lizzie have returned so soon ? She 
 must not find her crying. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Moore," said an unmistak- 
 able voice. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Boylston, where did you come from ? " 
 she said, faintly, sinking back into the depths of the 
 vines. 
 
 " From the station, to be sure. I lost the eight 
 o'clock train, you see," he added, " so I thought I 
 would come up and say good-by over again." 
 
 "Was the first good-by so pleasant that you 
 wanted a repetition ? " she murmured. 
 
 " No, it was not," he exclaimed, quite fiercely, sit-
 
 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 143 
 
 ting down on the step beside her, but he rose again, 
 immediately. " What is this ? " he cried, producing 
 a much-flattened object. 
 
 " My bonnet," she responded, beginning to laugh. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm so sorry," he said, holding it up, and 
 regarding it ruefully. " That lovely bonnet ! " 
 
 "It's no matter," laughed Delight; "for I had 
 decided to indulge in a new one." 
 
 Boylston still held it up mournfully. "There 
 can never be another as pretty or as interesting. 
 You may get a very beautiful one, but you can never 
 have another bonnet like this. I shall never feel 
 the same toward any other bonnet. Delight," he 
 cried, impetuously, " have you been crying ? You 
 were just a little sorry to have me go ? I could not 
 go until I had made sure of that. Dearest, I love 
 you. Will you be my wife ? " 
 
 When Miss Elizabeth returned, later in the even- 
 ing, she was more than astonished to find that the 
 recently departed Boylston was not on his way to 
 the city, and that Delight's headache was completely 
 cured. 
 
 And Felton, true to his word, spent a long and 
 quiet evening with Mrs. Boylston and her sister, 
 after assuring them that he had left Harold just 
 boarding the eight o'clock train. It was a great 
 satisfaction to him to feel that his friend was safely 
 back in town.
 
 144 THE EVOLUTION OF A BONNET. 
 
 And Harold Boylston thought kindly of Felton as 
 he stepped aboard the midnight train. " I never 
 appreciated, before," he said to himself, "what a 
 first-rate fellow Felton is."
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC 
 
 MRS. HUDSON especially disliked picnics, and 
 never went on them if she could possibly help 
 doing so, but in this instance, circumstances over 
 which, at best, she had very little control decidedly 
 got the upper hand of her and forced her to submit 
 gracefully. 
 
 Circumstances, in the guise of a dozen or more 
 young people, attacked her on every side in the 
 breakfast-room, on the hotel piazza, and even in the 
 seclusion of her own apartment, to which she fled in 
 vain for refuge. Here the enemy tapped aggres- 
 sively, and entered triumphantly, to seat themselves 
 upon her trunks and continue their persuasions ; 
 they said that none of the mothers would go on a 
 picnic up the river with them, but that she was so 
 lovely they knew she would n't refuse ; moreover, 
 they added that all the girls in the hotel adored her, 
 and the young men had been heard to declare that 
 she was " perfectly fine." They concluded by say- 
 ing that they would rather have her than any one 
 else, for everything depended upon the chaperon ;
 
 148 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 
 
 there were plenty of stupid people that they could 
 get if they wished to, but they wanted somebody 
 bright and interesting, like herself. 
 
 When Mrs. Hudson crossed the parlor, two or 
 three sweet young girls twined their arms about 
 her, and if she stepped into the office for a moment, 
 a couple of young fellows joined her and hung upon 
 her casual remarks with breathless interest. 
 
 In short, there was nothing for a kind-hearted 
 woman to do but to consent to chaperon such appre- 
 ciative young people. 
 
 "Mother says that she would have gone if she 
 were not so timid in a boat," one of the girls an- 
 nounced ; and " Aunt Mary is afraid of the river in 
 the evening, on account of her sensitive throat," put 
 in another ; " we 're so glad that you 're not one of 
 the delicate kind, Mrs. Hudson." 
 
 Mrs. Hudson smiled faintly. She was miserably 
 timid in a boat herself, and also wretchedly sensitive 
 to the dampness of the river, but she made up her 
 mind that even an attack of bronchitis would be 
 preferable to dispelling the exalted illusions which 
 were cherished regarding her. 
 
 The young people, having obtained her unwilling 
 consent, at once went ahead with their preparations, 
 after assuring her that she need n't worry about any- 
 thing, unless she felt like looking after the luncheon, 
 which was only a trifle, of course. The charge of 
 this small detail she readily assumed, and, in conse-
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 149 
 
 quence, brought down upon herself the wrath of 
 the not too obliging proprietor, who overheard her 
 speaking about it to the head waiter, and availed 
 himself of the occasion to announce that he was 
 tired of this lunch business, that he had had enough 
 of it, and that he had already told the young people 
 so, two weeks ago. 
 
 These and other similar remarks made the pro- 
 spective chaperon wish that she had undertaken 
 to superintend any other detail than this, despite 
 its triviality. She discovered soon, however, that 
 there was a still more serious phase attendant upon 
 the getting up of a small picnic. If it had been a 
 big picnic, everybody would at least have had an invi- 
 tation ; but being a small one, only a select few could 
 be so favored. And the pioneers went ahead and 
 asked whom they chose, and then screened them- 
 selves behind the fact that it was " Mrs. Hudson's 
 picnic." It was useless for her to assure the indig- 
 nant relatives and supporters of those not asked 
 that she had nothing to do with it, for they did not 
 believe her, and the result was averted glances, when 
 she entered the dining-room, in place of the usual 
 friendly greetings. 
 
 The morning dawned in cloudy uncertainty, 
 which is by far the most aggravating thing a pic- 
 nic day can do. Mrs. Hudson ventured feebly that 
 it looked like rain, but was at once overruled and 
 convinced that the day would be all the finer for a
 
 150 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 
 
 cloudy beginning, and that they might feel sure of 
 superb moonlight to come home by. 
 
 About noontime the sun peeped cautiously out for 
 a half -hour, and, by so doing, confirmed everybody 
 in the belief that it had cleared off gloriously. 
 
 With a deep sigh, born of desperate determination, 
 Mrs. Hudson stepped unsteadily from the boat land- 
 ing on to the gunwale of the boat which was waiting 
 to receive the chaperon, and nearly capsized it at 
 the start. 
 
 " I asked you not to step on the gunwale, Mrs. 
 Hudson," exclaimed the young man who was assist- 
 ing her, with as much politeness as he could sum- 
 mon after fishing up his coat and one of the cush- 
 ions, which had been jerked overboard. 
 
 " Yes, I heard you," gasped Mrs. Hudson, humbly ; 
 " but I did n't know what the gunwale was ; if you 
 had said you meant the edge I should have been 
 more careful." 
 
 Five other boats and one canoe were needed to 
 contain the entire party, and finally, after much dis- 
 cussion and changing about, the picnickers were 
 found to be actually " all aboard." 
 
 Mrs. Hudson having discovered what the gunwale 
 was, grasped it firmly with both hands as she sat in 
 the stern of the boat, and a moment later acquired 
 more wisdom by getting her fingers pinched against 
 the end of the pier as she swung about. 
 
 "Where is the luncheon?" somebody inquired
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 151 
 
 loudly. " Did n't you bring it down with you, 
 Tom ? " somebody else called out. In response to 
 this, Tom was seen to leap ashore and disappear in 
 the direction of the hotel. 
 
 " We 'd better start ahead," some one shouted, and 
 the other boats were promptly headed up-stream. 
 
 Mrs. Hudson leaned against the damp cushions 
 in the stern and watched the scudding clouds a 
 little uneasily. By the time that the " picnic pines, " 
 which were two miles up the river, came into sight, 
 the scurrying clouds had begun to descend in pat- 
 tering raindrops. Out came the mackintoshes and 
 up went umbrellas, but every one remained cheerful. 
 "Only a shower," several voices announced gaily. 
 
 It proved to be a very heavy one, and Mrs. Hud- 
 son tried to hold her umbrella over the oarsman 
 nearest her ; he begged her, however, to shelter in- 
 stead his pet banjo, which was tucked under one of 
 the seats. " Just keep that dry, Mrs. Hudson," he 
 said, "and I don't care how wet I am." Mrs. 
 Hudson took off the cape of her mackintosh and 
 wrapped it around the banjo, and held her umbrella 
 tenderly over it while she sat with her feet in a pool 
 of water, and the boat grew momentarily more and 
 more wet and slippery. 
 
 " Here we are, " somebody called out, and Mrs. 
 Hudson peered from under her umbrella, and had 
 the satisfaction of seeing the picnic pines rising 
 gloomy and damp before her. It was still raining,
 
 152 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 
 
 though less heavily, as the unhappy chaperon, with 
 the precious banjo clasped to her heart, jumped 
 heavily from the boat into eight inches of soft mud, 
 and clambered up a steep and slippery bank, fol- 
 lowed by the dripping picnickers. 
 
 " Don't any of you think of sitting down unless 
 you wish to have pneumonia," she exclaimed, warn- 
 ingly, as she stood under a sheltering tree and 
 peeped at the banjo to see if it was injured. 
 
 " This won't last long, " several voices assured 
 her ; " it 's beginning to break away already," and 
 sure enough, a bit of blue sky was really visible, and 
 a moment later the drops ceased to fall. Mrs. Hud- 
 son picked her way over the wet pine-needles and 
 murmured, " I hope it will dry off a little before we 
 have our supper." 
 
 " Where is that other boat with the supper in it ? " 
 one of the young men inquired, and everybody now 
 looked anxiously down the river for it, but no boat 
 was in sight. 
 
 " It 's great fun to be up here in the wet without 
 any supper," one or two began to grumble. 
 
 " I don't believe they '11 come at all, now," another 
 said gloomily; "they probably put back when it 
 began to rain." 
 
 "And took it for granted that we would do the 
 same," concluded a third, mournfully. 
 
 "Perhaps we had better go back, then," Mrs. 
 Hudson suggested timidly, casting a longing glance
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 153 
 
 toward the boats, but nobody seconded her motion, 
 and the young people began to explore the grove or 
 Seated themselves on the rocks near the water to 
 watch for the missing boat. 
 
 The chaperon spread her mackintosh upon a 
 board and sat patiently down upon it. She tried to 
 be bright and cheerful, and thought up all the jokes 
 and conundrums that still lingered in her memory, 
 and even told one or two funny stories, a most un- 
 usual feat for her. 
 
 In the course of half an hour a welcome speck 
 " hove into sight," and all set up a grateful shout, 
 " The supper ! It has come at last." And a few 
 minutes later the delinquent Tom scrambled ashore, 
 all unconscious of the anxiety he had occasioned, 
 exclaiming, " I should have been here before if I 
 had n't anchored under the bridge to wait for the 
 shower to be over." 
 
 Seated cross-legged about a friendly rock, the 
 picnickers joyfully passed the sandwiches around in 
 a couple of moistened box-covers, and regaled them- 
 selves with ginger pop and hard-boiled eggs, which 
 were not boiled as hard as they should have been. 
 
 " Now this is something like ! " they cried out, as 
 the salt, wrapped in a piece of newspaper, went from 
 hand to hand. One of the young men knocked the 
 head off a bottle of olives, cutting his finger in the 
 process, and then set the bottle down beside 
 the chocolate cake, where some one immediately
 
 154 MRS - HUDSON'S PICNIC. 
 
 tipped it over, thereby saturating the cake with 
 brine. 
 
 This did not injure the cake any, however, aa*. 
 several critics tested it and declared that it was " de- 
 licious," and tasted much improved in consequence. 
 All kept asking Mrs. Hudson if it was n't great fun, 
 and she tried to say conscientiously that it was, 
 though she had hardly recovered from the effects of 
 having a bottle of ginger ale poured over her, be- 
 fore one of the young men, in his efforts to open 
 a box of sardines with his knife, sent the whole of it 
 into her lap upside down. 
 
 Mrs. Hudson shuddered as she raised her bottle 
 of ginger ale to her lips ; she had always considered 
 it the height of depravity to drink from a bottle. 
 She picked up a hard cracker. and bit it thoughtfully, 
 after brushing off a stray ant which was running 
 over it, and mentally decided that no kind-hearted 
 impulse should ever again put her in a like position. 
 
 Supper ended, the young people, after offering to 
 help the chaperon clear up the remains, strolled off 
 in different directions, leaving her to restore to the 
 empty baskets unaided, the remainder of the hotel 
 property. As she walked to the water's edge and 
 threw overboard the last empty bottle, she heard the 
 voices of the young people singing snatches of pop- 
 ular airs, and the twang of the banjo assured her 
 that the instrument had come ashore unscathed, 
 thanks to her protecting mackintosh. But now,
 
 MKS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 155 
 
 once again, the rain-drops began to patter down. 
 Alas for any possibilities of moonlight ! 
 
 " Come, we must go at once," Mrs. Hudson in- 
 sisted ; " it is raining again." 
 
 The picnickers beat a hasty retreat to their boats, 
 which were unpleasantly wet and uncomfortable by 
 this time. The weary chaperon was handed hastily 
 into her boat, and staggered wildly towards the stern 
 of it, assuring those who were helping her that she 
 was " all right," an assertion which she immediately 
 proved to be false by tripping over a foot-rest in the 
 darkness, and sitting down sooner than she had in- 
 tended in consequence, and causing the boat to tip 
 far to starboard. 
 
 An ominous snap sounded and she rose hastily, 
 but, alas ! too late, exclaiming, " Oh, what have I 
 done ? Why did you put it there ? I 've spoiled 
 that lovely banjo ! " 
 
 Harder and faster came down the rain, as silently, 
 and with all possible speed, the six boats and the 
 one canoe flew homewards. Never had two miles 
 seemed so long before to Mrs. Hudson. She sat in 
 terrified suspense, expecting that every moment 
 would be her last, as she was rushed along in the 
 darkness. Once they ran aground upon a small 
 island, and again they struck the moorings of an 
 absent fishing craft sharply ; but at last a welcome 
 thump told that the pier had been safely reached. 
 
 The rain fell fast and pitilessly as Mrs. Hudson
 
 156 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 
 
 stood upon the wharf and waited the arrival of the 
 canoe, which had fallen far astern of all the other 
 boats. 
 
 Now as they watched for it, vague and appalling 
 suspicions flitted through the chaperon's tired brain. 
 Had the canoe been upset ? Had the occupants 
 been drowned ? What should she say to their fond 
 parents if that were the case? She could never 
 return to the hotel to face their heartrending re- 
 proaches. While she was meditating upon some 
 means of escape from such a dreadful possibility 
 the canoe glided quietly up to the wharf, but in the 
 anxiety that she had endured in those ten awful 
 minutes Mrs. Hudson felt that she had added ten 
 years to her age. 
 
 " We have had a magnificent time in spite of the 
 showers," cried the picnickers, as they flocked into 
 the hotel office, wet and bedraggled. Mrs. Hudson 
 would have smiled at the word " showers " had she 
 felt energetic enough to do so ; but as it was, she 
 only ordered hot lemonade and dragged her tired 
 frame up-stairs. 
 
 She arose the next morning with a severe cold on 
 her chest (which lasted for many weeks), and de- 
 scended to be greeted by the reproaches of the 
 mothers of those who went upon the picnic, because 
 she let them stay out in the rain, and to be coldly 
 avoided by those others who were not favored with 
 an invitation to " her picnic," and as she sat alone
 
 MRS. HUDSON'S PICNIC. 1 57 
 
 and miserable in the parlor, with her chuddah shawl 
 drawn up about her ears, these words were wafted 
 towards her through an open window : " If we could 
 have had a real jolly chaperon, it might have been 
 some fun, but she is a perfect stick, and the only 
 thing that she could do was to sit down on Harry 
 Carter's banjo and smash it."
 
 A BAG OF POP-CORN
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN 
 
 JEREMIAH TUFTS was packing up his things 
 " to go home," he told his friend Sam Wilkins ; 
 though when he stopped to think the matter over, 
 he had to own to himself that the place he was 
 about to leave was in reality much more his home 
 than the one for which he was bound. 
 
 Sam had dropped in upon him, and was watching 
 with a troubled look his preparations to leave the 
 place he had occupied for so many years. It was 
 hard for Sam to get over the shock which he had 
 experienced when his friend had suddenly an- 
 nounced his decision to return East ; and he tried 
 in vain to reconcile Jeremiah's usual calm and stolid 
 demeanor with his apparent feverish anxiety to be 
 off at once. He sat on a rude chair, which Jeremiah 
 had always considered one of his triumphs in furni- 
 ture manufacture, and puffed his clay pipe. Jere- 
 miah was nailing up in a large packing-case such 
 of his household goods as he deemed worthy of 
 transportation. 
 
 "I hope you'll help yourself, Sam, to anythin' 
 
 161
 
 1 62 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 that strikes you as available," he remarked, taking 
 a nail out of his mouth and preparing to drive it 
 into the case ; " I sha' n't tote any of the furniture 
 away with me," he added, reflectively. " It ain't 
 much of anythin' to speak of, but it might come in 
 handy, some of it." 
 
 This liberality elicited no response from Sam, 
 who continued to regard him seriously, shaking his 
 head. " It ain't natural and I can't say it seems 
 right to me," he said at last. 
 
 " Why, not, I should like to know ? Why ain't 
 it right and natural to give away a lot of old things 
 I 've got no further use for ? " 
 
 " You don't understand me, Jeremiah. It wa' n't 
 the furniture I was referrin' to ; it was to yourself, 
 man. Here you've lived and worked among us 
 quiet and contented these twenty years, and every- 
 thin' about here 's seemed to suit you. I 've heard 
 you say time and ag'in that no place ever combined 
 to satisfy you like this, and now, all of a sudden, 
 you pack up and say you 're goin' to leave us. 
 There 's somethin' extraordinarily wrong the matter 
 with you, Jeremiah, I 'm afraid, and I wish you 'd 
 let me ask the doctor to come 'round and take 
 a look at you." 
 
 Jeremiah, having finished nailing up the packing- 
 case, drew himself slowly up on top of it, and sat 
 there, regarding his friend. " Don't you be a wor- 
 ryin' about me, Sam. I wa' n't never better in my
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 163 
 
 life. Moreover, I 'd like to make one remark, which 
 is, if it ain't right and natural for a man to want to 
 go and end his days in his own native town, I want 
 to know what is right and natural." 
 
 " Yes, if you have a home a-waitin' for you ; but 
 you've told me many a time that you hadn't a 
 relation in the world. And you 've allowed how 
 you was pretty much a pilgrim and a stranger 
 altogether." 
 
 Jeremiah cleared his throat. " You don't under- 
 stand," he said, " it 's the old associations and p'ints 
 of interest ; and," he hesitated, " I 'd mighty like to 
 look up a few of the old friends." 
 
 " If you 'd been anxious about lookin' them up, 
 I should have thought you 'd have sot about it before 
 this. Likely you 'd have found more of 'em standin' 
 around to receive you ten years ago than you will 
 now." 
 
 A deep shade of melancholy rested upon Jere- 
 miah's face. " I wish I had started ten years ago," 
 he said, sadly. He was silent for a moment, and 
 then went on : "I 've been savin' up somethin', and 
 I believe it 's enough to answer for my bein' toler- 
 ably comfortable from now on, with a margin to pay 
 for a respectable monument in the old buryin'-ground 
 on the hill." 
 
 His friend again shook his head doubtfully. " It 
 won't do," he said. " There 's somethin' you 're 
 keepin' back, Jeremiah. You've always been fair
 
 164 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 and square with me, old man ; what 's started ye 
 off?" 
 
 Jeremiah heaved a deep sigh. " You always was 
 as curious as a woman," he said. 
 
 " I reckon it 's a good failin' to resemble 'em as 
 much as we can," Sam remarked, placidly ; " they 
 generally get there." 
 
 Jeremiah had opened a small black trunk which 
 stood in one corner of the room, and taken out a 
 white pasteboard box. He removed the cover and 
 displayed a quantity of very old and yellow pop- 
 corn, which was running out of a torn, crumpled 
 paper bag. 
 
 " It 's on account of this bag o' pop - corn I 'm 
 goin' home," he said ; "all on account of this." 
 
 " What ! " gasped Sam, confirmed in his suspi- 
 cions that Jeremiah had taken leave of his senses. 
 " Goin' East on account of a bag of pop-corn ! Man, 
 are you crazy ? " 
 
 " I should n't wonder if I was," Jeremiah said, 
 calmly; "but I'm goin', Sam, nevertheless. Don't 
 look at me like that. I '11 tell you about that pop- 
 corn. It wasn't just the bag of pop -corn, 'twas 
 somethin' more. 'T was a note, Sam, a note that 
 went with it, writ to me thirty years ago." From 
 his breast pocket he carefully drew a rumpled piece 
 of paper, which he regarded mournfully, while Sam 
 watched him in amazement. Then he held it out 
 to Sam with a trembling hand. " I guess I may as
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 165 
 
 well let you read it, since it was thirty years ago," 
 he said. " You '11 find the writin' pretty much faded," 
 he added, drawing the back of his hand across his 
 eyes. 
 
 Sam took the letter, and, searching in his pocket, 
 succeeded in securing a pair of spectacles, which 
 he slowly adjusted, and then fixed his most profound 
 attention upon the scrap of paper. 
 
 " I don't mind your readin' it out, now you 're 
 at it," Jeremiah timidly suggested; and with a 
 good deal of difficulty his friend deciphered the 
 following : 
 
 DEAREST JEREMIAH : Knowing your liking for pop-corn, 
 I put this note at the bottom of the bag, feeling sure that 
 you '11 not be long in reaching it ; so you cannot be very far 
 on your journey before you know that what I said last night 
 was all a mistake. I did n't suppose you really meant it when 
 you said you were going away. If I had I should have begged 
 you not to go, for you must know that I do care for you, dear 
 Jeremiah, more than for all the world besides. I know that 
 you will forgive me and come back some time ; and when you 
 do, you will find me waiting, as ever, and forever yours, 
 
 AMANDA WELBY. 
 
 Sam took off his spectacles, and looked at Jere- 
 miah. " Well, that 's very pretty. But what 's a note 
 writ thirty years ago to do with your goin' off ? " 
 
 " It seems to me you 're mighty stupid," said Jere- 
 miah, fretfully ; " can't you understand, I never got 
 it in all these long, long years ? " and he sat down 
 and buried his head in his hands.
 
 1 66 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 " Well, I declare ! " murmured Sam. 
 
 Jeremiah paced up and down the room with his 
 hands in his pockets. 
 
 " Amanda Welby was the finest girl in all the 
 county," he went on, excitedly ; " all the boys were 
 after her, to take her to the fair, or to the circus, or 
 to see her home from meetin'. But somehow she 
 always seemed to rather take a particular shine to 
 me, until I came to feel about sure that Amanda 
 thought a good sight of my keepin' company with 
 her ; in fact, she 'd as much as told me so once or 
 twice. All at once I had a chance to go West and 
 make my fortune, as they all said, and I thought I 'd 
 go for a while, as there was n't much of an openin' 
 in Greenboro. When I came to spring it upon 
 Amanda, I thought she did n't care, for she kind 
 o' laughed and asked me ' why I s'posed she 'd 
 care so much about my goin' East or West.' I 
 might have known she did n't mean it, after the 
 kindness she 'd showed me along of mother's fu- 
 neral ; but I was angry, and went home and packed 
 up my things that night. In the mornin', just as I 
 was startin' out, I saw her little cousin runnin' over 
 with a bundle in his hand. ' Cousin Amanda said 
 to be sure to give you this,' he called out. I snatched 
 it from him and untied the string and looked inside. 
 It was pop-corn ! Amanda had sent me a bag of 
 pop-corn ! That was pretty tough. Addin' insult 
 to injury, that 's what it seemed to me. When I saw
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN. l6/ 
 
 him comin' over, I rather thought to myself that 
 she 'd been a reconsiderin' ; and when I laid eyes 
 on that pop-corn, I tell you I was mad. I grabbed 
 the bag to throw it down in the road right there ; 
 but on second thoughts I opened my valise and 
 tucked it in, to remind me of the heartlessness and 
 perfidy of women. From that day to this I have 
 never tasted one grain of pop-corn, but I kept that 
 bag shut up in a box where it was a warnin' against 
 the whole lot. If ever I saw a face that I liked 
 the looks of, I 'd just go home and take off the 
 cover of that box, though 't warn't very often that 
 I did it, for I never saw any one t' attracted me as 
 Amanda did. Well, I 'd kind of begun to think I 'd 
 stay here always, and I had n't so much as seen 
 that old white box for years, when I come across it 
 a few days ago. I was sortin' out some old things, 
 and the box fell out, and when I opened it the bag 
 was broken open, and the note was stickin' out of 
 it like the finger of fate. Oh, Sam, to think of my 
 waitin' thirty years to read it ! " 
 
 Sam rose and laid his hand on his friend's 
 shoulder. " Don't excite yourself so, Jeremiah," he 
 said, " but think it over, calmly, and I reckon you '11 
 decide to stay here with your friends. Don't go 
 back East just for sorrow and disapp'intment. 
 You can't calculate that any woman's been waitin' 
 around thirty years for you. Most likely she took 
 up with the next one that come along."
 
 1 68 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 " I don't know 's I 'd blame her if she did," pro- 
 tested Jeremiah. 
 
 "And she may be dead and gone long afore 
 this," Sam concluded solemnly. 
 
 Jeremiah bowed his head submissively. 
 
 His friend was silent for a few moments, and 
 then ventured, " Don't you think you 'd better make 
 up your mind to stay with us ? " 
 
 Jeremiah rose majestically. " Stay with you ! " 
 he exclaimed, almost scornfully; then noting his 
 friend's grieved expression, he continued more 
 gently : " I 'm sorry to leave all of you folks here, 
 but I wouldn't stay longer 'n it takes to get my 
 things off, if you gave me every gold mine in this 
 State, and the rest of the country thrown in ! " 
 
 Those inhabitants of Greenboro, who had lived 
 there for the past thirty years, and had witnessed the 
 gradual changes going on around them during that 
 time, could not easily have understood the emotions 
 which struggled in the breast of Jeremiah Tufts as 
 he slowly wended his way up the main street of the 
 village and looked about him. The picture of the 
 place as he left it had always remained clearly im- 
 printed on his mind ; and although in coming back 
 he had prepared himself for a goodly number of 
 improvements and changes, he had expected noth- 
 ing like the transformation which greeted his eyes. 
 
 He turned his steps toward the old tavern, but on
 
 A SAG OF POP -CORN. 169 
 
 reaching the spot he was confronted by a large 
 modern hotel which was pervaded by an air of 
 bustle and activity, and presented itself in all the 
 doubtful glory of electric bells and bell-boys with 
 brass buttons. The quiet composure of the old 
 tavern, with its portly proprietor smoking his long 
 pipe with his feet upon the piazza rail, was a thing 
 of the past. Jeremiah surrendered his valise to a 
 porter, and wrote his name submissively in an im- 
 posing register which one of the brisk clerks pushed 
 towards him. After a late dinner served in a 
 countless number of little dishes, he started out to 
 make the acquaintance of this new Greenboro. The 
 boyish enthusiasm which he had felt as he stepped 
 lightly off the train was rapidly leaving him, and he 
 walked slowly down the street, feeling that he was 
 like the Greenboro of thirty years ago, a thing of 
 the past. He saw a postman with a shiny bag 
 going about distributing letters, and watched the 
 bright electric cars which ran to the next town, 
 rushing by him, until he began to question whether 
 this was really Greenboro after all. Everywhere 
 the old stores had disappeared and large blocks 
 had arisen in their stead. 
 
 He caught a glimpse of the old burying-ground 
 on the hill, however, which reassured him, and he 
 turned his steps towards it. On the way he passed 
 a new and thriving grocery store which bore on its 
 sign a familiar name. He went in and asked if he
 
 I/O A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 could see Deacon Holden. The deacon had 
 always been a good-natured man in whom Jeremiah 
 had found a firm friend on many occasions when he 
 and the other village youths had indulged in juve- 
 nile pranks. The clerk looked at him in astonish- 
 ment and remarked coldly that " the old deacon had 
 been dead these fifteen years." Jeremiah quite 
 resented his calling the deacon old, for he thought 
 of him as he had seen him last, in the prime of life, 
 with his genial smile, measuring out sugar for his 
 customers, and putting in a little extra after the 
 scales tipped, instead of scooping some out as the 
 clerk before him was doing. 
 
 Jeremiah walked sadly over to a counter where 
 he saw a pile of pop-corn in bags, and, obeying the 
 dictates of a contrite spirit, he bought a bag and 
 strolled down the street eating some as he went. 
 The flavor of it seemed to bring back, as if it were 
 only yesterday, a night when he drove Amanda 
 home from the county fair, by moonlight. He 
 remembered what an ideal flavor the pop-corn had 
 that he ate during that drive. This did not taste 
 at all like it, and he thrust the bag into his pocket 
 and strode towards the cemetery. He could not 
 make up his mind to turn his steps towards the 
 little white cottage which used to stand half a mile 
 beyond, in the cross-road. He felt sure that he 
 would find it gone or deserted, and learn that its 
 former occupants were dead or scattered.
 
 A BAG OF POP- CORN. I /I 
 
 He entered the old burying-ground, appalled at 
 the number of white marble slabs which had arisen 
 to testify to the changes that thirty years had 
 wrought in Greenboro. He walked to the upper 
 end of the ground, where under, an old elm, 
 he found one familiar spot. Here two simple slate 
 tablets marked the resting-place of his mother and 
 father. The lichens which covered the stones 
 wholly obscured the lettering, but to Jeremiah all 
 the letters presented themselves as clearly as when 
 he first watched them cut upon the stones. He sat 
 down on a little iron stool that he had placed there 
 almost thirty-five years before, and looked affection- 
 ately at the old stones. Here, at all events, he felt 
 at home. 
 
 Some one had kept the lot in perfect order. It 
 was not overgrown with weeds like many others up 
 in that old corner where the white marble was 
 almost an unknown quantity, and Jeremiah won- 
 dered who could have planted myrtle on the two 
 graves. Were there then some old friends who still 
 felt an interest in his mother and father? He 
 walked a short distance to the Welby lot, and then 
 paused in fear, not daring to read the names on the 
 additional stones there. But at last he nerved him- 
 self and stepped near enough to read the inscrip- 
 tions. He read the names of Amanda's father and 
 mother on two rather pretentious tablets, and then 
 turned tremblingly towards a third and smaller
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN, 
 
 stone. It bore the name of Jerusha: she was 
 Amanda's younger sister. A wave of thankfulness 
 swept over him ; but it was only a momentary 
 relief, for, as he threaded his way along an adjoining 
 path, his eye fell upon another stone. He stopped, 
 and stood fixedly confronting it, while a cold chill 
 crept over him as he read again and again the 
 words : " Amanda, beloved wife of Ezra Parks, in the 
 ayth year of her age." 
 
 Jeremiah dropped on his knees by the stone and 
 buried his head in his hands. So she had married 
 Ezra Parks, great awkward Ezra Parks. Surely 
 she never could have cared for him, for time and 
 time again Jeremiah had heard her say she could n't 
 bear the sight of him. What would he not give to 
 know whether those few short years had been 
 happy ones. He who had been her husband could 
 never tell him ; for a few feet distant another stone 
 marked the spot where Ezra himself had been laid 
 nineteen years later. 
 
 Jeremiah pressed his lips against Amanda's 
 name, cut in the cold slate. " After thirty years 1 1 
 have come back, dear," he murmured. " Oh, if I 
 had only known it sooner ! It was cruel, too cruel ! 
 Yes, I forgive you for marryin' him 1 I know you 
 waited waited for one word from me, which 
 never came." He turned away, bitterly, murmur- 
 ing, " I will go back to the West. Sam was right ; 
 there 's only sorrow and disappointment here ! "
 
 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 173 
 
 He returned to his little iron seat, and sat there 
 watching the sun go down. The glory of the sun- 
 set seemed to mock his loneliness; but the two 
 mounds of myrtle brought him a sort of consolation, 
 such as the actual presence of his mother and father 
 might have brought him. At last he rose and 
 started down the hill. As he passed Amanda's 
 grave he thought how bare and deserted it looked ; 
 and he determined to bring some flowers to leave 
 there before he went away. 
 
 He mechanically turned his steps towards the little 
 white cottage. Perhaps it might be still standing, 
 after all, and he might get some flowers from the 
 well-remembered garden to put on Amanda's grave ; 
 she used to be so fond of the flowers in that garden ; 
 he turned a bend in the road, and suddenly came in 
 sight of the small, white cottage. It looked the 
 same, in every particular. Here, alone, nothing 
 had changed, save the trees, which had grown so 
 much taller and denser. Neat and trim seemed 
 everything, with the same clusters of roses shading 
 the porch ; and as he neared the spot he could see 
 that smoke curled up from the wide brick chimney ; 
 but no sound could be heard about the house except 
 the chirp of the crickets. He remembered how, in 
 the old times, of a summer evening, Mrs. Welby's 
 pleasant face could be always seen on the little 
 porch, as she sat with her knitting, while the three 
 girls sat on the steps and chatted and laughed with
 
 1/4 A SAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 the friends who dropped in. The flowers were 
 much as of old in the garden. As Jeremiah ap- 
 proached the fence and looked over, a delicate odor 
 of mignonette was wafted towards him, which 
 seemed to efface those thirty years and make him 
 a boy again. 
 
 A slender figure was moving gently about, with a 
 watering-pot, at the end of the garden, and he stood 
 and watched her until his eyes grew misty; for 
 something in the way she moved reminded him of 
 Amanda. He would at least go in and ask her if 
 he might have some flowers. He opened the gate 
 and walked up the path, in the dusk, so quietly that 
 she did not hear him until he stood almost beside 
 her ; then, as she suddenly turned to fill the water- 
 ing-pot from a pail near by, she saw him standing 
 there, and, in her astonishment, she dropped the 
 watering-pot. Jeremiah gallantly stooped and re- 
 stored it to her, while something, he knew not 
 what, brought his heart up into his mouth. 
 
 " I ask your pardon for comin' upon you so un- 
 expected," he began, hat in hand ; then he paused. 
 
 " It was a bit sudden," she said, a little nervously, 
 and beginning to tremble, she could not tell why. 
 
 Surely, he thought, her voice is very like 
 Amanda's. 
 
 " I wanted to get a few flowers to put on a grave 
 in the buryin'-ground," he went on, " and I thought, 
 if you did not consider it too great a liberty, I 'd ask
 
 'FOR HEAVEN'S SAKK, UK YOU AMANDA?'"
 
 A SAG OF POP- CORN. 175 
 
 you to give me just a- He stopped and gasped, 
 " For heaven's sake, be you Amanda ? " 
 
 Some familiar tone in his voice made her start, 
 and she came a step nearer. 
 
 " Yes, I am," she replied, hesitatingly, " though 
 there 's few to call me Amanda now. And you ? " 
 she questioned, doubtfully. 
 
 Jeremiah seized both her hands. " Amanda," he 
 cried, "look at me hard. Don't you know me? 
 Ain't there a speck of the old look left ? " 
 
 He held her hands with a grip like iron, while 
 she trembled from head to foot. At last her lips 
 moved, and she murmured : " It can't be, it can't 
 be ; he 's dead long ago, Jeremiah's dead." 
 
 " I 'm not dead, Amanda," Jeremiah cried, throw- 
 ing his arms about her, " I 've come back to you. 
 I 'm alive, I 'm as live as they make 'um, I 'm a 
 sight liver 'n I ever was before. And I love you 
 better than ever, Amanda ; and that 's why I've 
 come back." 
 
 Amanda's fixed and stony gaze had changed, as 
 he spoke, to ecstasy and tears, and she dropped her 
 head on his shoulder, sobbing, " The Lord forgive 
 my unbelief, Jeremiah. I had given ye up." 
 
 They sat down on the same old steps where they 
 used to sit thirty years before, and he told her all 
 about it, how all those years he never had read the 
 note. 
 
 "Amanda," he sighed at last, "when life is so
 
 176 A BAG OF POP -CORN. 
 
 short, I can't understand why such things are allowed 
 to happen." 
 
 She wiped her eyes, which seemed brighter than 
 ever, though her locks were streaked with silver. 
 "Jeremiah," she said, "'twas the will of the Lord. 
 Let us only remember His mercy, which brought us 
 together." 
 
 Then he told her how he had suffered up in the 
 old burying - ground on the hill. "I was sure you 
 was dead," he said, " for I read Amanda Parks on a 
 stone, and I thought you had married him ; and I 
 could n't much blame you if you had." 
 
 " Jeremiah," she said, reproachfully, " how could 
 you possibly think such a thing of me ? Had n't I 
 said if you ever came back you would find me 
 waitin ' ? In all the years that I looked for your 
 comin', I never once thought that of you, but 
 always said, if he does n't come back, he is dead ; 
 and you believed, because his wife's name was 
 Amanda, that I had gone and married that Ezra 
 Parks ! " 
 
 Jeremiah bowed his head. " Amanda," he said, 
 " you must remember, I 'm only a poor weak man, 
 not up to the high ideals of the wimmen. As my 
 old friend, Sam Wilkins, says, I guess the best we 
 can do is to try to resemble 'em as much as we 're 
 able." 
 
 He drew from his pocket the bag of pop -corn 
 which he had bought in the village, and they shared
 
 A BAG OF POP- CORN. I 77 
 
 it, half laughing, half weeping, while in the dusk, 
 which hid the silvery threads in the two heads so 
 near each other, no one would have dreamed that 
 thirty long years had elapsed since they ate their 
 last pop-corn together.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A 
 SPOON 
 
 IT was rumored that Miss Helen Maryland was 
 to give a small and select dance very shortly 
 invitations to which, it was well understood, were 
 most desirable. All social gatherings at the Mary- 
 lands' were well attended, and young and old 
 esteemed it a privilege to spend an evening beneath 
 their hospitable roof-tree. 
 
 Mrs. Maryland was mistress of the art of enter- 
 taining, and her daughter Helen had inherited her 
 mother's easy cordiality and pleasing manners, 
 while her own sincerity and frank good -nature 
 would doubtless have made her the general favor- 
 ite that she was had her father's dollars been but 
 few and her mother's delightful parties not at all ; 
 though who knows ? popularity is such a very de- 
 pendent sort of thing. 
 
 Information about the forthcoming dance, which 
 would have very much surprised Miss Maryland 
 herself, was rapidly circulated, by nobody in par- 
 ticular and everybody in general, while she sat 
 intent upon the game of progressive euchre which 
 
 181
 
 1 82 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 was going on among the party of young people 
 assembled in Mrs. Welsh's pretty drawing - room. 
 Helen Maryland was, in fact, not aware that any 
 one but her most intimate friend, Linda Walford, 
 knew that she cherished the thought of shortly 
 entertaining some of her friends, and her own ideas 
 on the subject were decidedly indefinite. She 
 might have ascertained, however, from bits of con- 
 versation floating about the room, that the dance 
 was to be on such an evening, and at such a time ; 
 that the music was to be thus, and the supper so ; 
 and many other interesting items equally edifying, 
 and of which she was blissfully ignorant. 
 
 At the head table, George Marlowe and his 
 friend Forrester Wells had arisen from their chairs, 
 about to part company. George was going down 
 to the foot table. 
 
 "Good -by, old fellow," he was just remarking. 
 " I '11 see you later in the evening." 
 
 "I say, who is the coming lady, George?" in- 
 quired his friend. 
 
 " Why, the very girl I told you was going to give 
 a swell dance." 
 
 " Good ! Introduce me quick ! before you go. 
 My partner has gone to speak to Mrs. Welsh, and 
 she always takes it for granted that every one 
 knows every one else; and it is not the slightest 
 use for me to hum and haw, and wink and shuffle 
 the cards."
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 183 
 
 At this juncture, Miss Maryland appeared on the 
 scene, and Marlowe hastily presented his friend and 
 departed. 
 
 Wells at once set about making himself as agree- 
 able as possible, and he could be very agreeable 
 when he chose. This evening kind fortune smiled 
 upon him in the form of an immediate announce- 
 ment of supper, for which he at once secured Miss 
 Maryland as his partner. 
 
 " I have heard Mr. Marlow speak of you so often 
 that I feel as if we were almost old friends," he 
 began, when they were snugly ensconced upon the 
 stairs; "and," he added, "he promised to ask if 
 he might bring me to call some time; but I am 
 afraid he is not to be depended upon. I suspect 
 he wants to monopolize you himself." 
 
 This was stretching the truth just a trifle, as 
 Forrester had stoutly refused to make any calls 
 whatsoever with his friend upon several occasions. 
 
 " I may get the better of him now," he added, 
 gaily, "if you will let me come on my own hook. 
 I sha' n't depend upon him any more after this." 
 
 Helen found him very entertaining, and it was 
 rather flattering to feel that she had really made 
 such an impression upon George Marlowe's hand- 
 some friend. And so it happened that Forrester 
 Wells received, during the following week, a dainty- 
 invitation to the Maryland mansion for Wednesday, 
 the ath.
 
 1 84 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 " So much for making myself very agreeable," he 
 remarked, with great satisfaction, to Marlowe. 
 
 " So much for having a large amount of cheek 
 and unlimited assurance," promptly responded his 
 friend. 
 
 Miss Maryland's cotillon for such it resolved 
 itself into proved a great success. Music, floor, 
 supper, and society, all of the best, and that kind 
 of " best which is not the cheapest." 
 
 Forrester Wells meditated upon the golden 
 opportunities which were often lost through short- 
 sightedness, as he straightened his tie in the dress- 
 ing-room, just before supper. He was always very 
 particular about his neckties. Then he went down- 
 stairs, and asked Miss Fanny Marlowe if he might 
 have the pleasure of taking her out to supper. She 
 was George's sister, and he offered this sacrifice 
 upon the altar of his affection for George, as she 
 was not generally considered very attractive. 
 
 There was some compensation offered, "however, 
 by the fact that he knew her so well, and she never 
 cared for anything but a little ice-cream (so different 
 from George), and then she was quite willing to sit 
 and talk to the next girl for an indefinite time, 
 while he enjoyed himself elsewhere. It was, after 
 all, really much better than taking one of the belles 
 out to supper, he reflected, for they were apt to be 
 very exacting, although there was always that cer- 
 tainty of plenty of other men coming up to talk and
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 185 
 
 pass things when one wanted to go and get a few 
 mouthfuls himself. 
 
 He now deliberately helped Miss Marlowe to ice- 
 cream, a process rendered quite simple by the fact 
 that all the others were intent upon getting salad 
 and oysters. Then he tried to remember which she 
 preferred, a spoon or a fork. He thought she pre- 
 ferred a spoon, but Miss Maryland was sitting be- 
 side her, and she would probably consider it more 
 elegant to bring a fork, so he took both. Present- 
 ing the plate of ice-cream with one hand, while he 
 held the other behind him, he inquired : 
 " Which will you have, a spoon or a fork ? " 
 To which she replied, " A fork, if you please." 
 This he produced, with a flourish. " See how I 
 read your thoughts ! " he exclaimed, deftly slipping 
 the spoon into his coat-tail pocket, until he should 
 have a chance to return it to the table. 
 
 Then he allowed his thoughts to turn in the direc- 
 tion of his own supper, which he modestly began 
 with a few raw oysters, and the spoon was quite for- 
 gotten. Wholly unconscious of its existence, he was 
 among the last to bid his hostess good-night ; and, 
 thanking her for a most delightful evening, which 
 had some time since ceased to be evening at all, he 
 took his departure. 
 
 He set out briskly on his walk of a mile and a 
 half home, there being no car at this time of night. 
 He had gone fully half a mile, when a thought of the
 
 1 86 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 unlucky spoon presented itself, and he stopped as 
 though he had received an electric shock. Here 
 was a pretty how-d 'ye-do ! Going off with a silver 
 spoon in his pocket. What a story for the fellows 
 to get hold of ! No danger of that, however ; and 
 he obeyed his first impulse to take it back at once, 
 by beginning to retrace his steps immediately. 
 Probably some of the guests were still there. Almost 
 always there were some intimate friends who stayed 
 to talk things over. 
 
 Here he began to run. What a fool he was to be 
 so forgetful ! Why had n't he brought Miss Mar- 
 lowe her ice-cream with a spoon in the first place, 
 or a fork, instead of giving her a choice ? So much 
 for being over-polite. What should he say when 
 he got back to the house ? Why, that he had for- 
 gotten something, of course ; left something in the 
 dressing-room. Then only to rush up -stairs, and 
 leave the spoon anywhere on the table or the 
 bureau where it would be easily found. No one 
 would dream who had left it there. It was really 
 very humiliating for a fellow like him, who prided 
 himself upon always doing the correct thing, to 
 carry off a silver spoon in his pocket, and yet he 
 realized how inexpressibly funny it would have 
 seemed if Marlowe had done it. What a very un- 
 interesting girl Fanny Marlowe was ! He could 
 not understand how George could have such a 
 stupid sister.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 1 8/ 
 
 Yes, this was the house ; but how changed ! All 
 the brilliant illuminations turned to darkness. Ap- 
 parently every gas-jet in the house extinguished, 
 save a faint glimmer up-stairs. How could a half- 
 hour or so have made such a difference ? He had 
 not dreamed that they would turn the lights out so 
 soon. It was no use, now, to ring the bell, and he 
 slowly turned upon his heel, and started once more 
 toward home, though in a frame of mind not the 
 most amiable. 
 
 Mrs. Maryland was a thoroughly systematic house- 
 keeper, and after any entertainment which she gave 
 always took account of stock, so to speak. Being 
 blessed with a long-trusted waitress, who each night 
 locked up the silver and brought her the key of the 
 safe, she gave herself no uneasiness in this direc- 
 tion. Jane, however, having been occupied until 
 the last moment the previous evening, putting on 
 wraps and overshoes for the young ladies, had en- 
 trusted this important mission to the parlor- maid, 
 who had massed the silver together, and locked it 
 up, regardless of any sorting out whatever. So it 
 happened that Mr. Maryland balanced his coffee- 
 spoon in hand the next morning, and remarked that 
 he had one of great - grandmother Meade's best 
 teaspoons. And so it came about that Mrs. Mary- 
 land, herself, sorted them out after breakfast, saying 
 that' she would put them in a separate drawer in the 
 safe.
 
 1 88 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 And then she suddenly discovered that one of 
 them was missing. There were only eleven. Where 
 was the twelfth ? Those spoons were the apple of 
 Mrs. Maryland's eye, with their antique handles 
 and old-fashioned monogram. That spoon must 
 be found. There was certainly great carelessness 
 among the servants. Thereupon followed a tem- 
 pestuous morning below stairs, with threats from 
 the cook to leave at once, in spite of an impending 
 dinner-party that evening. It was very strange, 
 but the spoon could not be found, and after a day 
 or two the subject dropped, only to be revived by 
 an occasional feeble joke, on Mr. Maryland's part, 
 about Helen's friends admiring the pattern of the 
 teaspoons. 
 
 When Forrester reached his room, he took out 
 the spoon and scrutinized it. Yes, it was a very 
 handsome one, probably some of the old family sil- 
 ver, and it would be missed at once. How would 
 it do to send it right back by mail ? That might be 
 risky ; things were so often lost in the mail. No ; 
 he would go around with it after his first lecture in the 
 morning. He would make them an early call, and the 
 whole thing would pass off as a good joke. Rather 
 too good a joke, probably, as Miss Maryland would 
 enjoy telling the story to numerous friends, and 
 when the fellows got hold of it they would never 
 let the thing rest ; he would n't, himself, if Marlowe 
 had done it.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 189 
 
 He laid the spoon carefully upon a swinging 
 shelf above his mantel, and then proceeded to retire, 
 determined to solve the problem of how to return it 
 most creditably in the morning. 
 
 When morning came, a loud knock rudely startled 
 him from his slumbers, and before he could open 
 his eyes a telegram was thrust into his face. It was 
 a despatch from his mother, announcing that his 
 sister Margaret was very ill, summoning him home 
 at once. He had just time to dress and catch the 
 next express westward, without even a thought of 
 breakfast, only a hasty line scrawled to Marlowe, 
 and left upon his table. 
 
 Marlowe roomed just across the hall from Wells, 
 although it would have been hard to tell in which 
 apartment he spent most of his time. On the 
 following evening several congenial spirits were 
 assembled in Marlowe's room to partake of a Welsh 
 rarebit, the science of which he had mastered with 
 an ease that did not characterize his treatment of 
 the classics. His father, who could not seem to 
 realize that a quarter of a century had elapsed since 
 his own college days, regarded this fact as some- 
 thing almost disgraceful, which was more the pity, 
 since Marlowe's understanding of Welsh rarebits 
 had earned for him a wide-spread fame, which years 
 wasted upon the classics never would have brought 
 him. 
 
 Marlowe presided over the blazer with all the
 
 190 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 dignity becoming so important a position. " Where 's 
 my spoon, Warner ? " he exclaimed, casting his eyes 
 over the necessary materials ranged about him on 
 the table. 
 
 "I haven't got it," returned that worthy indi- 
 vidual, who was devoutly kneeling before a small 
 stove, in which gleamed a coal fire, with his entire 
 attention concentrated upon a slice of toast which 
 he held upon the end of a fork. " Do you think 
 I'm toasting bread with a spoon, George? It is 
 bad enough doing it with a fork minus a handle. 
 You can have this now, if you like," he added 
 amiably, sliding off the last slice of toast, which had 
 taken on a decidedly black tint during this conver- 
 sation. " Here, Thompson," he concluded, tossing 
 it across the room to him, " just scrape off this 
 toast, will you, and make yourself useful while I find 
 the master of ceremonies a spoon ? " 
 
 This Thompson proceeded to do with his pocket- 
 knife, resting the toast, meanwhile, on Marlowe's 
 German dictionary, while the owner thereof solilo- 
 quized : 
 
 " It 's very queer where my spoon has gone to. 
 Perhaps you '11 find it in Wells's room," he sug- 
 gested, pausing with a slice of cheese in one hand, 
 and an egg in the other. " Skip in there, Thomp- 
 son, and see, will you ? " 
 
 As Thompson disappeared, somebody inquired, 
 " Where is Wells to-night ? "
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 191 
 
 " He has gone home," responded Marlowe. " His 
 sister is very sick, and they telegraphed for him this 
 morning." 
 
 General expressions of sympathy were here in- 
 terrupted by the return of Thompson, triumphantly 
 waving a spoon in the air. 
 
 " Hello ! that 's not my spoon ; mine is a bigger 
 one," exclaimed Marlowe, taking it. " I never saw 
 this before. Wells is going in for solid silver, and 
 that's really a mighty pretty handle." With this he 
 proceeded to the important business of making his 
 Welsh rarebit a success. 
 
 A week later Marlowe was dining at the Mary- 
 lands', being among the chosen few invited to meet 
 a cousin who had come on from the West. The 
 cotillon was several times referred to, and the cousin, 
 next to whom he had the honor of being seated, 
 turned to him, saying : 
 
 " I want you to tell me all about it, Mr. Marlowe. 
 I am so disappointed that I did not come on in 
 time for it." Marlowe proceeded to set it forth in 
 glowing colors, ending off with a reference to " the 
 most delicious supper." 
 
 " Yes," broke in Mr. Maryland, " and some of 
 Helen's friends were so hungry that they began 
 upon the spoons." 
 
 " Papa ! " broke in Helen, reproachfully. 
 
 " Did n't they eat up one of grandmother Meade's 
 teaspoons ? " he responded, laughing.
 
 I Q2 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " queried the cousin, who 
 could never appreciate Mr. Maryland's jokes. 
 
 " Simply this," interposed Mrs. Maryland, with a 
 sweet smile, which spoke to Mr. Maryland of dis- 
 approval, " one of the spoons disappeared that night 
 probably thrown away in the clearing up. It was 
 like this, you know," she added, taking up one from 
 beside her dessert - plate, " and, of course, we were 
 sorry to have the set broken into ; but we do not 
 usually entertain our friends with details of this 
 sort," she concluded, with a reproving glance at her 
 husband. Then, with a view to changing the sub- 
 ject, she turned to Marlowe, saying : "We were very 
 much pleased with your friend Mr. Wells the other 
 night. He is a very interesting fellow, and I hope 
 we shall see more of him." 
 
 What could have so disconcerted the usually self- 
 possessed Marlowe? He seemed very much em- 
 barrassed about something, and sat with his eyes 
 riveted upon his dessert - spoon, murmuring some- 
 thing about Wells's having gone home on account 
 of sickness a very simple statement, the utterance 
 of which should not have given him any trouble. 
 Miss Maryland glanced up at him in surprise. Was 
 he jealous of his friend, or had he been quarrelling 
 with him ? 
 
 When he reached home that night, Marlowe 
 hastily looked about him for something, which, not 
 meeting his anxious gaze at once, he lighte'd all the
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 193 
 
 gas-burners and looked again for, but without suc- 
 cess. Then he crossed the hall, and lighted all the 
 burners in the opposite room, and continued his 
 search, but in vain. He was very cross, and turned 
 things upside down, in a way which would have made 
 the orderly Wells's hair stand upon end could he 
 have looked in upon the scene, and had his hair not 
 already been in an upright position. Next, leaving 
 both doors open, he strode down the hall, and 
 thumped upon a door at the farther end. 
 
 " What 's the matter ? " responded a sleepy voice 
 from within. 
 
 " I want to see you. Open the door, will you, 
 Thompson ? " 
 
 " Is that you, Marlowe ? What do you want at 
 this time of night ? " 
 
 " I want to see you, old man. Open the door, 
 sleepyhead." 
 
 With an audible groan, the door was unlocked, 
 and Thompson bounced into bed again. Marlowe 
 walked in and lighted the gas. 
 
 " Oh, turn that down, I say ; you 're blinding me ! " 
 exclaimed the victim, burying his head in the 
 pillow. "Can't you talk to me without such an 
 illumination ? " 
 
 "Thompson," began his persecutor, seating him- 
 self decidedly on the foot of the bed, " what did we 
 do with that confounded spoon that last night I 
 made the Welsh rarebit ? "
 
 194 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the victim, actually becoming 
 wide - awake with astonishment. " Is that what 
 you waked me up for, to find you an old spoon ? 
 Clear out with your old Welsh rarebits." And 
 Thompson prepared to launch his pillow at his 
 tormentor's head. 
 
 " Oh, I say, be reasonable, old fellow ! " his friend 
 remarked, soberly. " I want to talk to you. I tell 
 you it 's not late. You must have turned in right 
 after dinner." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Thompson, reaching over to 
 his vest for his watch. " It 's half-past twelve, and 
 I 've an examination early. But fire away and have 
 it over with. The spoon was by way of introduc- 
 tion, I suppose. Speaking of spoons, is she dark or 
 light, tall or short ? I 'm listening." 
 
 " Oh, hush up, Thompson ! It 's nothing of the 
 sort. Do you think I Ve waked you up to talk non- 
 sense of that kind ? " 
 
 " Well, you have before. Only week before last 
 you kept me awake for hours telling me that her 
 eyes were perfectly wonderful and her hair was 
 
 " Will you keep quiet and let me talk, if you are 
 so sleepy ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will. But you need not call me sleepy 
 now. You 've spoiled my best nap and I shall prob- 
 ably stay awake the rest of the night." 
 
 Having reduced Thompson to a submissive mood, 
 Marlowe began his recital. When he had finished,
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 195 
 
 silence reigned for a few. moments. Then Thomp- 
 son ventured : 
 
 " Are you certain that spoon had the same pat- 
 tern on it ? " 
 
 " I 'm almost positive, but I want to make sure, 
 and I can't find the spoon. I thought that perhaps 
 you had borrowed it." 
 
 " No, indeed. I have n't seen it since that night." 
 
 " And that was the very night after the Mary- 
 lands' party," mused Marlowe. " Still I can't im- 
 agine any fellow putting up a joke of that sort on 
 people he scarcely knew. It 's not a bit like Wells ; 
 but it is the strangest thing I ever heard of, and 
 something that no gentleman could do. Yet if 
 he did, think how I feel to have been the one to in- 
 troduce him and answer for him, and I would cer- 
 tainly have answered for him anywhere ! 
 
 "When it came across me at dinner it almost 
 choked me to think that I had been deceived all 
 this time, and that Forrester was not the fellow that 
 I took him for. It was such an unmistakable pat- 
 tern, you know. I never saw anything like it. I 
 don't believe I could forgive him for a joke of that 
 sort." 
 
 " Perhaps some other fellow put it in his pocket 
 for a joke on him, " suggested Thompson. 
 
 Marlowe shook his head mournfully. " That 's 
 not very likely. No; Forrester has always had a 
 craze for collecting trophies of every kind, and this
 
 196 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 only shows that he has not the taste to put a limit 
 to that sort of thing. And now, " he concluded, 
 despairingly, " where has the spoon gone ? Good- 
 night, Thompson, " and, putting out the light, his 
 friend banged the door and departed without further 
 ceremony to his own room, where, before retiring, 
 he spent some time longer in thoroughly turning 
 things upside-down in a vain search for the missing 
 spoon. 
 
 Thompson was calmly disposing of ham and eggs 
 the next morning, when Warner, who occupied a 
 seat beside him at table, came in. 
 
 "Why didn't you come up to my room last 
 night ? " he began. " We had a rarebit that knocked 
 Marlowe's higher than any kite." 
 
 " I wanted a little sleep last night, " replied 
 Thompson, helping himself to a third egg. 
 
 " I stopped for Marlowe, too, " continued War- 
 ner, "but he had gone out to dinner, so I bor- 
 rowed his spoon, and what are you choking 
 about ? " 
 
 " Over excitement at hearing you tell such inter- 
 esting details, Warner. By the way, Marlowe 
 waked me up at midnight looking for that 
 spoon." 
 
 " Is that so ? " Well, I never saw a fellow who 
 could take as many Welsh rarebits as he can. Has 
 he been down to breakfast yet? I brought this 
 spoon down in my pocket to return to him, " he con-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 197 
 
 tinued, producing it " So I hope he '11 appear be- 
 fore I have to skip." 
 
 " I '11 see that it is returned," Thompson volun- 
 teered, quite eagerly. 
 
 " All right ; much obliged." And Warner, having 
 swallowed the remainder of his coffee, rushed away, 
 leaving his friend, who never hurried his breakfast, 
 to finish that repast in peace. 
 
 " Yes, I '11 return it," mused Thompson. " But," 
 he concluded, a bright thought suddenly striking 
 him, "not to Marlowe no, not to Marlowe." 
 
 And so it came about that soon after breakfast 
 he might have been seen directing a small, neat 
 bundle, with which he entered the post-office a little 
 later, wearing the same mischievous smile which 
 usually illuminated his comely face. 
 
 Forrester Wells returned the next afternoon in 
 high spirits, having left his sister on the fair road 
 to recovery. His time at home had been so fully 
 occupied that no ghost of the silver spoon had 
 troubled him until it recurred to his mind as he 
 opened the door of his own room once more. He 
 put down his bag, and looked about " George has 
 been arranging things here," he commented, men- 
 tally ; then he reached up to the swinging shelf 
 for the spoon. It was gone. In vain he looked 
 everywhere about the room; it was not to be 
 found. 
 
 While he was still occupied in this way Marlowe
 
 198 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 appeared, and he called out, gaily, " Hello, George ; 
 here I am again ! " 
 
 " So I see," remarked his friend, without his usual 
 enthusiasm. " How is your sister ? " 
 
 " Oh, much better. By the way, did you see a 
 silver spoon around here after I left ? " 
 
 Marlowe eyed him sternly before responding. 
 " Yes, I think I did see one here. Where did it 
 come from ? " 
 
 Wells resisted his first inclination to explain the 
 full particulars, and replied, carelessly : " Oh, I 
 picked it up somewhere. It is a very convenient 
 thing to have about, you know. It was a pretty one 
 with a fancy handle." 
 
 " Not the kind that you pick up in the street, 
 eh ? " put in George, scornfully. 
 
 " I hope that no one has walked off with it," con- 
 tinued Wells, without noticing the other's tone. 
 " It was an old-fashioned one, and I could n't get 
 another like it, you know." 
 
 " Not where you got that one," broke out Mar- 
 lowe, with such vehemence that his friend suddenly 
 turned and faced him in astonishment. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Just what I say," returned the other, excitedly. 
 " I never believed you capable of such a thing. I 
 thought that you were a very different sort of fellow. 
 Oh, Forrester, how could you ? Is it a joke to carry 
 off silver from a house where you are being enter-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 199 
 
 tained for the first time ? That would be disgrace- 
 ful enough ; but if, still worse, you are merely pur- 
 suing a craze for trophies to be satisfied at any cost, 
 please remember that when I present you to my 
 friends, I hold myself responsible for your ungentle- 
 manly conduct." 
 
 During this outburst Forrester's face was an 
 interesting study of rapidly changing expression. 
 First of complete astonishment and surprise, fol- 
 lowed by incredulity ; and then grieved amazement, 
 as his friend's suspicion dawned upon him, and 
 ending in a flash of haughty anger at the close. 
 
 As Marlowe paused, he strode to the door and 
 threw it open. " You have said enough to convince 
 me of your friendship," he exclaimed. "Now be 
 kind enough to go." 
 
 Beneath his clear, penetrating glance, Marlowe's 
 suspicions melted away, leaving him most penitent 
 for his hasty words, and only desirous to atone for 
 the injustice they had expressed, 
 
 "Indeed, I shall not go until everything is ex- 
 plained. Forgive me, Forrester, for doubting 
 you. I know that you are and always have been 
 the soul of honor. When you hear my side of the 
 story you will see that there is some excuse for 
 me." 
 
 Forrester's anger gradually subsided under this 
 earnest appeal. " First," he said, " you must hear 
 my terrible confession of guilt" And he briefly
 
 200 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 recounted his experience, and his vain attempt to 
 return the spoon that night. " And, of course, you 
 know that I was telegraphed for next morning," he 
 concluded. 
 
 George, who was by this time contrition itself, 
 then told his story. How he borrowed the spoon ; 
 all about the dinner-party ; when he had seen the 
 spoons just like it ; and last and worst, how the 
 spoon could not be found. Forrester whistled 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " I am responsible for it," Marlowe insisted. " I 
 borrowed it, and I shall go and explain to the 
 Marylands all about it, and see if I can't have 
 another one made like it." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " replied his friend ; " you shall do 
 nothing of the kind, and I believe we shall find the 
 spoon yet. Suppose we go into your room, and 
 have one more thorough search ? " 
 
 With this the two friends went manfully to work. 
 Forrester carefully turned over, scrutinized, lifted up, 
 and shook everything ; while George kicked things 
 over, emptied out drawers, and never paused in his 
 mad career until the room looked as if it had been 
 suddenly struck by a cyclone. Every now and then 
 one of them remarked, " Oh ! here is that match- 
 safe you lost so long ago ; " or, " I 've just found 
 that pearl scarf-pin of mine." 
 
 George finished up by emptying the contents of 
 his bureau drawers upon the bed, where collars and
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 2OI 
 
 handkerchiefs, neckties, cigarettes and stockings, 
 tennis -caps and scarf-pins all mingled in glorious 
 confusion. 
 
 " What did you do that for ? " remonstrated For- 
 rester. "I had just looked carefully through all 
 those drawers, and now you 've mixed things up 
 finely." 
 
 " Oh, that 's all right ! " exclaimed George, cheer- 
 fully. " I just like to make sure, you know. It is 
 the strangest thing where that spoon went to," he 
 added, inspecting the coal-hod. " I declare, I Ve 
 looked in every place I can think of, and found 
 everything else that I ever lost, and I 'm afraid we 
 shall have to give it up." 
 
 It was with a step less elastic than usual that 
 Forrester Wells mounted the Marylands' steps late 
 that afternoon, while George Marlowe, by his side, 
 assumed an air of extreme gaiety, which, neverthe- 
 less, failed to disguise the fact that he was just a 
 little nervous and uncomfortable; the whole affair 
 seemed so ridiculous and unnecessary, and so 
 strongly recalled his very juvenile days when his 
 father made him ring the gentleman's door-bell, and 
 tell him that he had broken his window, but would 
 be most happy to pay for it. 
 
 Miss Maryland was at home and welcomed them 
 most cordially. They talked on all imaginable sub- 
 jects, from music to football, none of which seemed 
 to lead toward the subject which both young men
 
 2O2 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 
 
 were so anxious to introduce, not too abruptly, but 
 in an easy and off-hand way. 
 
 Wells was cudgelling his brains for just the right 
 sort of introduction, though it seemed to Marlowe 
 that he had forgotten all about the spoon, and was 
 going to talk on forever about some canoeing trip 
 that he took the previous summer. Marlowe him- 
 self grew so abstracted as to actually jump when 
 Miss Maryland unexpectedly addressed a remark to 
 him. Why under the sun doesn't Wells begin 
 about that spoon ? he was mentally ejaculating, 
 when his attention was arrested by a portion of 
 Miss Maryland's conversation. 
 
 " It was really very singular, and quite like some- 
 thing you read of in stories," she was saying. " You 
 may remember, Mr. Marlowe, that we told you 
 about a missing teaspoon that disappeared the night 
 of the cotillon ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," murmured Marlowe, faintly. 
 
 " Well," she continued, " do you know, it came 
 back to us through the mail this very morning ? It 
 is the most mysterious thing I ever heard of, and 
 we have racked our brains in vain for a solution of 
 the problem. Now, Mr. Wells, I am anxious to 
 hear your theory on the subject ? " 
 
 Wells, who had hitherto been unusually quiet, 
 found his animation suddenly returning. " How 
 very interesting ! " he exclaimed ; " and how much 
 more delightful not to solve the mystery! Mys-
 
 THE ROMANCE OF A SPOON. 2O3 
 
 teries are apt to prove so very prosaic when some 
 one steps in and explains them, spoiling the story 
 and taking away the romance. Come, Marlowe, we 
 must be going. If we stay any longer, Miss Mary- 
 land will never want to see us again." 
 
 When the door closed behind them, Wells re- 
 strained his wild desire to execute an Indian war- 
 dance on the sidewalk, while Marlowe could not 
 find words to express his satisfaction and delight at 
 the turn affairs had taken. 
 
 " I '11 wager that Thompson will tell me some- 
 thing about that spoon when I see him," he broke 
 forth. 
 
 " Since I know that it 's returned, I don't care a 
 rap how it got there," gaily responded Wells. 
 " There was something really providential in our 
 beating about the bush all that time before we in- 
 troduced the weighty subject. George, old man, I 
 tell you it pays to own up like a gentleman. Be 
 good and you '11 be happy, even if your friends 
 don't have a first-rate time in consequence." 
 
 "Forrester," exclaimed his friend, putting his 
 hand impressively on his arm, " you not only pos- 
 sess most unlimited cheek, as I 've told you before, 
 but you have more confounded luck than any fellow 
 I ever saw."
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY 
 THOUGHT
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY 
 THOUGHT 
 
 AND the thought was this I would ask all my 
 young friends from the neighboring cottages 
 to bring around their various musical instruments, 
 and we would spend a jolly, informal evening on 
 my wide, airy veranda. I knew that my young 
 cousin Josephine had found her stay with me ex- 
 tremely quiet, and I determined to do a little some- 
 thing to make things a trifle more lively, and so I 
 drove about our summer colony inviting all my 
 young friends who possessed banjos, guitars, etc., 
 to bring them over in the evening. When I reached 
 home, happy in the consciousness of well doing, I 
 was greeted by a telegram, announcing that my 
 husband would bring down with him on the five 
 o'clock boat, two of our stiffest and most ceremoni- 
 ous English friends, Mr. and Mrs. Beresford- Pierce. 
 I looked at Josephine in dismay. "What shall I 
 do about those banjos ? It is after five now, and I 
 have n't time to send them word not to come, and 
 yet I wouldn't for the world have the Beresford- 
 Pierces think that I had specially invited such a
 
 2O8 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 collection of extraordinary young musicians to enter- 
 tain them. They are both intensely and critically 
 musical, so that it would not do, still, I have just 
 time to see that the cook gives us a little something 
 to eat, and you must help me to arrange some flow- 
 ers ; we must explain to them just how it happened, 
 and no doubt the young folks will prefer to talk 
 most of the time." 
 
 After our guests had been duly escorted to their 
 room, however, I hastened to inquire what my hus- 
 band thought of the prospective music. He seemed 
 much pleased at the idea, and declared that it was 
 certainly a most "happy thought;" it's just the 
 sort of thing they will enjoy, he assured me ; and 
 he hurried away without giving me a chance to ex- 
 plain that I had not invited all the banjos after I 
 received his message. Charlie has n't a bit of tact, 
 at all events, and when, at dessert, the conversation 
 drifted towards music, he announced, with a reas- 
 suring smile at me, that I was planning to have 
 some music after dinner. 
 
 Our guests seemed much pleased at the prospect, 
 and Mrs. Beresford-Pierce said, dreamily, " that they 
 had not heard any good music since they left 
 London." I hurriedly explained that we were 
 merely expecting a few young friends with guitars 
 and banjos, and assured them that it would not be 
 classical music with which they would be apt to 
 favor us, but our English friends insisted that it
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 209 
 
 would be a "great treat." We were finishing our 
 coffee when the Emmonses arrived with their 
 banjos. 
 
 " Now, Fred, you and Tom can give us some tunes 
 before the others come over," I suggested, as we 
 adjourned to the piazza. 
 
 " I think we had better wait until the others get 
 here," he replied ; " but we will tune up while we are 
 waiting. Give me your third string, Tom," he 
 added. 
 
 " Let me get in tune first," responded Tom. " I 
 put on some new strings this afternoon, and they 
 are all off." It was quite evident from his efforts to 
 bring them back that they were a long way off, but 
 at last they seemed to give satisfaction, at which 
 point Fred proceeded to repeat the process, varying 
 it, however, by two loud snaps. 
 
 " Strings do not last long at the seashore," he 
 announced, cheerfully selecting new ones with great 
 deliberation. " You are tuned up too high, Tom ; 
 you must come down, or I shall break every string 
 I own." 
 
 I called Mrs. Beresford-Pierce's attention to the 
 lights in the harbor, and I was glad to note that 
 Charlie was indicating the points of interest to her 
 husband. Meanwhile, Tom proceeded to "come 
 down " without evincing that rapidity which usually 
 characterizes a descent from any elevated position. 
 They declared a moment later that they were in
 
 2IO THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 perfect tune a fact which I saw that our guests 
 apparently doubted ; nevertheless, I hastened to say, 
 " Do play some of your quaint darkey melodies." 
 
 " We can give you ' Swanee River,' or a jig," Tom 
 replied, and as I remarked that the jig would be 
 nice, I perceived three figures advancing across the 
 piazza, and I recognized Mrs. Brown and her two 
 nephews. 
 
 " I am glad to see some more of my orchestra," 
 I called out, gaily, though I had been devoutly 
 hoping that something would prevent their coming. 
 
 " Are they really an organized orchestra ? " Mrs. 
 Beresford-Pierce questioned, gravely. 
 
 " Oh, no," I explained, " they have never played 
 together until this evening," and then, after intro- 
 ducing the Browns, and finding chairs for them, I 
 begged the musicians to begin. 
 
 The young Browns had brought a piccolo and a 
 banjoine, which they at once began to tune vigor- 
 ously, while we sat patiently by. The piccolo was 
 determined not to harmonize with the banjos, and I 
 could see that Mrs. Beresford-Pierce's finely-trained 
 nerves were undergoing exquisite torture, while her 
 husband sat regarding the musicians with a fixed 
 and wondering gaze. Even Charlie was getting 
 impatient. "Let us have that jig," he cried out. 
 The Emmonses asked the Browns if they knew it, 
 but they said they did n't, but could n't the others 
 play " The Invincible Guards' March ? " No, they
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 21 I 
 
 had never learned that. After a long consultation, 
 they agreed to try the " Spanish Fandango," which 
 they actually started ; by the time they reached the 
 second variation, one of the Browns broke a string, 
 and during the pause which ensued, Rose Elwood 
 appeared with her guitar, and accompanied by her 
 brother. 
 
 " I had great difficulty in persuading Harry to 
 bring his bones over," Rose announced. " Ah ! 
 what fun it is to have so many instruments together," 
 she concluded, joining the orchestra, while Mrs. 
 Beresford-Pierce, whose knowledge of " bones " was 
 confined to her acquaintance with physiology, 
 looked curiously at Harry. Just then I overheard 
 Rose saying, " Let me have your third string, Mr. 
 Emmons, it always takes me so long to get this 
 guitar in tune." 
 
 Charlie was walking up and down with his hands 
 in his pockets. " Play something, play anything, 
 my friends," he exclaimed. "This suspense is wear- 
 ing us out, I assure you." 
 
 As the tuning still continued, I suggested that 
 perhaps it would be wiser for the audience to go 
 inside, since it was growing rather cold ; " and you 
 musicians can come in when you are ready to play," 
 I added, noting with satisfaction that Charlie had 
 taken Mr. Beresford-Pierce to the farther end of the 
 piazza for a quiet smoke. 
 
 We had hardly settled ourselves near the blazing
 
 212 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 wood -fire in the hall for a quiet chat before the 
 door opened, and our musical friends appeared, an- 
 nouncing that " it was no use trying to tune up out- 
 side where it was so damp." I looked mournfully 
 at the other ladies. Mrs. Brown was smiling serenely ; 
 she lived in the house with the piccolo and the ban- 
 joine. Not so Mrs. Beresford - Pierce ; she was 
 trying to smile, but without success, and I could see 
 that she was suffering acutely. 
 
 " Let me have your second string," the banjoine 
 was saying to the guitar. The piccolo was endeav- 
 oring to reach the new pitch, and the banjos were 
 tumming experimentally, while Harry Elwood kept 
 time with the bones. All the musicians were se- 
 renely happy and quite unconscious of the fact that 
 the rest of us were not provided with instruments to 
 tune. 
 
 " Aren't we to have some music?" I queried, in 
 a tone which might have been defined as bitter- 
 sweet ; but at that very moment I heard Arthur 
 Brown protesting, " I cannot tune my piccolo up to 
 that last key, so you will all have to come down a 
 little." 
 
 " What ! are we still tuning ? " questioned Charlie, 
 in comic dismay, as he ushered in Mr. Beresford- 
 Pierce. I nodded. Alas ! I thought feebly to my- 
 self, if it were only " still " tuning ; but it is such 
 painfully loud tuning. 
 
 And the worst of it was that my guests were
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 21 3 
 
 under the impression that I had asked in all these 
 strange, unmanageable instruments on purpose to 
 entertain them. At that moment I could have wept 
 freely. Then I rallied and pulled myself together. 
 I crossed the room and touched the electric bell, at 
 which signal Jane appeared, bearing a tray with 
 cake and ices. 
 
 " Now, suppose we have a little intermission," I 
 announced, and my impromptu orchestra relin- 
 quished their instruments, though a trifle regretfully ; 
 they were enjoying it so much. We finished our 
 ices in peace, and, having taken things into my own 
 hands, I determined not to relinquish my advantage, 
 so I spoke up boldly, " We will not try the orchestra 
 all together again this evening," I said, " but we will 
 hear them in sections, and will begin with ' The In- 
 vincible Guards' March,' by the two Mr. Browns, 
 followed by their choicest waltz." They accom- 
 plished these selections successfully, after which the 
 Emmons boys, accompanied by the bones, played a 
 jig which quite brought down the house, and even 
 necessitated an encore. Then Rose sang two very 
 charming ballads with her guitar, which sounded so 
 sweetly that Mrs. Beresford - Pierce thawed com- 
 pletely, and told Rose that she really ought to have 
 her voice cultivated, and she only wished that she 
 could take lessons of her teacher in London. Rose 
 forbore to mention the fact that she had been faith- 
 fully trying to cultivate her voice for two years, and
 
 214 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 only begged that Mrs. Beresford-Pierce would sing 
 something. After some demurring, she finally gave 
 us " Robin Adair " in a clear, rich voice, while Rose 
 played an accompaniment timidly on her guitar. 
 
 From this moment our English friends seemed to 
 be really enjoying themselves, and we all entered 
 into the college songs with great enthusiasm. I 
 noted with surprise that all the instruments were 
 actually going at once and seemed to be in pretty 
 good tune. Mr. Beresford-Pierce was heard to 
 whistle " Annie Laurie " with variations, while 
 Charlie went so far as to execute an Irish jig. I 
 glanced at our English guests to see if they were 
 shocked, but was reassured when, a moment later, 
 Mr. Beresford-Pierce volunteered that he knew some- 
 thing about a Scotch hornpipe himself, which he 
 performed, after some urging, to the stirring strains 
 of the banjos and bones. This crowning event called 
 forth a burst of applause which bespoke a truly ap- 
 preciative audience, and when several of the musi- 
 cians declared that it was time to go, I was 
 astonished to learn how late it was. My musicale 
 had been a success after all, I meditated, as I laid 
 my weary head on my pillow, but I must explain in 
 the morning that such an entertainment was wholly 
 accidental. Possibly they may have enjoyed it, I 
 said to myself, but they shall not go away from here 
 thinking that when I knew they were coining I went 
 and invited in a lot of instruments which had never
 
 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 21 5 
 
 played together before, by way of entertaining them. 
 My last words to Charlie were, " If I do not get 
 time to explain things at breakfast, you must 
 promise to tell them just how it happened on the 
 way up to town." Of course, he forgot all about it, 
 and never mentioned it during the whole long hour, 
 which it took them to sail up to the city, with twenty 
 minutes extra thrown in for fog, and he certainly 
 could n't have been showing them the points of in- 
 terest, as it was so thick they could n't see six inches 
 ahead of them. I can't imagine what he could have 
 talked about all that time, but it could not have been 
 anything very interesting, for he could n't recall a 
 word that he had said, he assured me afterwards, so 
 I believe he read his paper all the time. And in 
 spite of all my efforts to do so, I couldn't make 
 Charlie realize that my reputation as a typical 
 American hostess had been at stake*. 
 
 A few weeks later, I read aloud the following ex- 
 tract from a letter I had just received from a friend 
 at Newport : " Last week I had the pleasure of 
 meeting some delightful English people, who spoke 
 most enthusiastically of you, dear; they are Mr. 
 and Mrs. Beresford - Pierce, and they are being 
 greatly lionized here, on all sides. They spoke, 
 however, of an evening at your home by the sea, 
 which they considered, without exception, the most 
 charming that they had spent. Knowing how tre- 
 mendously they had been run after, I could not
 
 2l6 THE HISTORY OF A HAPPY THOUGHT. 
 
 help wondering what special attraction you had pro- 
 vided, you clever creature. When later, I had a 
 chance to inquire, I learned that at the shortest 
 possible notice you had provided a kind of im- 
 promptu orchestra, with banjos, guitars, etc. They 
 said it was so charmingly spontaneous and uncon- 
 ventional that they considered it a typical American 
 evening, which they should always look back upon 
 with special pleasure. I envy your originality, dear, 
 for who else would have thought of inviting in a 
 collection of musical instruments of that sort on the 
 spur of the moment, to entertain such very stiff 
 English people." 
 
 I laid the letter down with a sigh, for I felt I had 
 received rather a doubtful compliment, but Charlie 
 was much pleased. " Good ! " he exclaimed ; " now, 
 perhaps, you are convinced that it was ' a Happy 
 Thought,' after all ! "
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE 
 BY THE SEA
 
 MRS. BEAUFORT had declared herself tired 
 of hotel life, and had insisted that a fur- 
 nished cottage was the only ideal place in which to 
 spend the summer. Her husband had finally been 
 brought to realize the overwhelming advantages to 
 be derived from such a plan, and had accompanied 
 her hither and thither in search of just the right 
 place. 
 
 They were not exacting in their requirements, but 
 Mr. Beaufort did feel that he would enjoy a ride 
 daily on a boat, in preference to the dusty train ; 
 then his wife was anxious to have surf bathing near 
 by, and a pretty water view from the piazza ; while 
 the daughters said they would be satisfied anywhere, 
 provided they had pleasant society and good sailing. 
 
 Simple as these requirements were, however, they 
 were eventually dispensed with, and, after many 
 trials and tribulations, a cottage was rented, which 
 had to be reached after an hour's ride by rail from 
 the city. Mrs. Beaufort must content herself with
 
 22O A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 still-water bathing and no ocean view ; the girls had 
 no congenial friends near by, and the sailing was 
 not considered safe ; but they had secured a fur- 
 nished cottage, and they made up their minds to be 
 content. 
 
 Even here, however, there was a modifying clause ; 
 for the cottage furnishings proved to be far from 
 sufficient. There was no china to speak of, and 
 they would have to take their own mattresses and 
 almost all their cooking utensils, and rugs, and easy 
 chairs, and lamps ; besides several small tables, a 
 small ice -chest, wash-tubs, bath tubs, pillows, and 
 endless other things, not to mention necessities like 
 the piano, Henrietta's davenport and her sister's 
 dwarf bookcase. 
 
 When the large load of household belongings 
 rolled away from the door, Mr. Beaufort said, doubt- 
 fully, " We 've taken a good many things, consider- 
 ing that the house was fully furnished, my dear." 
 
 " Oh, it 's just as well to be comfortable, while we 
 are about it," his wife responded, cheerfully, " even 
 if we do have to move a few more things back and 
 forth." 
 
 " And after all, you won't have any rest from 
 housekeeping," he continued ; but she laughed 
 lightly, " My dear, it will be a very much simpler 
 matter keeping house at the seashore ; things almost 
 run themselves in a summer cottage, you know." 
 
 A few days later she wished devoutly that things
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 221 
 
 would run themselves, as she wended her way up 
 to the city to secure a new cook and waitress who 
 would be willing to put up with the great " uncon- 
 vaniences." These were many and seemed to mul- 
 tiply rapidly. The roof leaked, the stove would not 
 work, the cistern was so low that a man must daily 
 bring water in pails for household use. Many 
 greater and less evils Mrs. Beaufort discovered were 
 apt to go with furnished cottages. 
 
 Then the company ! Cousins, and aunts, and 
 distant relatives galore, must be asked down for 
 nice little visits, not to mention those who took it 
 upon themselves to drop down unexpectedly at the 
 least opportune moments. " All the people that I 
 ought to want, as well as those I do want, must 
 come," she said desperately ; while Mr. Beaufort 
 came home depressed and weary after his railroad 
 trip, and the girls sighed for sailing and complained 
 that there was nothing to do. 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort herself found that there was 
 altogether too much to do. What with explaining 
 how cooking could best be done on an oil-stove, and 
 making sure that the water supply each day was 
 sufficient, and sending up to town for fresh fish, and 
 writing out lists for the washerwoman, and stepping 
 out to the gate to view what the provision man had 
 to offer ; with these, in addition to the entertaining of 
 Mr. Beaufort's second cousins and her own aunts, 
 she found herself counting the days which must need
 
 222 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 elapse before she could turn her face again towards 
 " home, sweet home." 
 
 But the happy day arrived at last, and, as she 
 watched the men piling up the last things upon the 
 wagon, she acknowledged to Mr. Beaufort that there 
 was more detail connected with renting a summer 
 cottage than she had ever believed possible. 
 
 " And I shall have to get new servants the same 
 as usual," she went on, mournfully, " as the cook in- 
 sisted upon leaving yesterday, and Mary has just 
 heard of the death of her brother, which obliges her 
 to go at once, so we shall have to open the house 
 ourselves after all." 
 
 It was a bleak and raw afternoon when the Beau- 
 forts ascended their own front steps, laden with 
 bags, shawls, and many curiously -shaped bundles 
 suggestive of forgotten saucepans and stray coffee- 
 pots. 
 
 " It is time for the load to be here," Mr. Beaufort 
 remarked, as he unlocked the front door and 
 stepped inside. 
 
 " The house is as cold as a barn," Mrs. Beaufort 
 exclaimed, following him ; " could that man have 
 forgotten to light the furnace fire to dry the house 
 off?" 
 
 " Evidently he has," her husband responded ; " but 
 I will start a fire here and in the kitchen at once, 
 myself." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort wandered through the chilly rooms
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 22$ 
 
 in the deepening twilight ; " I supppose it is better to 
 be here a little while before the things arrive," she 
 said, " so that we can look about somewhat. I 
 hardly realized we took so many things away with 
 us. I declare the house is quite empty." 
 
 The minutes slipped away and the darkness 
 deepened, and still the welcome rumble of the ex- 
 press wagon was not heard. Again and again they 
 looked anxiously out of the windows, but in vain. 
 " I am so hungry," Henrietta declared ; " but I don't 
 suppose we can go out for our supper until that old 
 load comes." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort stood at one of the front windows, 
 drawing her cape about her and shivering; "how 
 strange that the man should not have come to start 
 the furnace," she murmured. 
 
 "Papa is trying to light the kitchen fire," her 
 daughter Kate put in, " so you can go out there and 
 get warm." 
 
 " I don't think he understands anything about it," 
 Mrs. Beaufort responded, hurrying toward the 
 kitchen. She opened the pantry door, and thioi.-h 
 a mist of flying ashes she could dimly make out 
 her husband's form, clad in what seemed to be 
 a silvery gray suit. " Why, what are you doing ? " 
 she exclaimed, putting her handkerchief to her 
 mouth. 
 
 " I am merely letting down the ashes, my dear," 
 he answered, coughing. " I should think you would
 
 224 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 have had this cleared out before we went away. 
 Can't you keep out of here until I get the fire 
 started ? " 
 
 " But that is not the way to let the ashes down. 
 Can't you see the room is filled with them, flying 
 all over everything." 
 
 " If you will be kind enough to leave the kitchen, 
 Clara," he returned, dusting his coat with his silk 
 handkerchief, " everything will be all right ; " and he 
 threw open two of the windows, making a draught 
 which blew the ashes in clouds toward the pantry 
 door. 
 
 At this moment Henrietta's voice was heard call- 
 ing " Mamma, here is the wagon-load of furniture." 
 "And it's pitch-dark out here," Kate's voice an- 
 nounced. 
 
 Mr. Beaufort dropped the poker and hurried to 
 the front door, followed by his wife. " Light the 
 gas in the hall," he called to the girls. 
 
 " It won't light," they promptly responded, mak- 
 ing way for two expressmen who stumbled in, laden 
 with chairs and tables. 
 
 " What, has n't the gas been turned on ? " Mr. 
 Beaufort questioned ; " I sent them special word not 
 to fail to have it on. Well, you will have to fly 
 around and get some lamps lighted." 
 
 "I suppose you know that all the lamps are in the 
 packing-trunks," Mrs Beaufort said regretfully. 
 
 " Well then, candles ; can't you find some can-
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 22$ 
 
 dies?" Mr. Beaufort called back; "there must be 
 some candles." 
 
 " I 'm afraid we took all the extra candles with us," 
 Mrs. Beaufort answered, hurrying into the store- 
 room, while the girls ran hither and thither tumbling 
 over the numerous pieces of furniture which the men 
 were rapidly piling up in the hall. 
 
 After a frantic search, during which Mrs. Beau- 
 fort opened the pantry door and then ran against it, 
 giving herself a black eye, one of the girls discovered 
 a box filled with little colored candles such as are 
 used on Christmas trees and birthday cakes. These 
 were hastily brought out, lighted and set about in 
 every available spot, where they dripped and sput- 
 tered fitfully. 
 
 "Tell the men to bring the three big packing- 
 cases into the dining-room," Mr. Beaufort exclaimed, 
 as he almost fell over a barrel of crockery which had 
 been planted in the middle of the hall. 
 
 " Yes, the lamps are in one of those packing- 
 cases, I 'm sure," Mrs. Beaufort answered, breaking 
 away from Henrietta, who was tying up her eye with 
 a handkerchief wet in cold water. 
 
 " Girls, where are the keys to the packing-cases ? " 
 their father was saying, excitedly; "you remember 
 you took them from me before we started." 
 
 "I gave them to mamma," promptly responded 
 Kate, "and I don't know what she did with them." 
 
 " Mamma, what did you do with the keys ? " bin.
 
 226 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 called after her mother, who had gone in search of 
 kerosene oil. 
 
 " Up-stairs in my black bag," came back from the 
 laundry, where Mrs. Beaufort was wandering about 
 with one Christmas-tree candle, which constantly 
 burned her fingers with hot wax. 
 
 " Henrietta, show the men where to take those 
 big square trunks," she added, coming in trium- 
 phantly with an oil-can, which her husband immedi- 
 ately kicked over in trying to move one of the 
 packing-trunks. 
 
 As Henrietta disappeared up -stairs to pilot the 
 big square trunks, a crash resounded through the 
 house. "What is that?" Mrs. Beaufort cried, 
 dropping the cloth with which she was wiping up 
 kerosene oil from the dining-room hearth. 
 
 "Oh, mamma," came a voice from the darkness 
 overhead, "the man has knocked down grand- 
 mother Hamilton's portrait with the corner of one 
 of those trunks, on the way up-stairs." 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort drew a deep sigh, but did not 
 speak ; being only a woman no appropriate words 
 instantly rose to her lips. 
 
 " And the glass is all over the stairs," her daugh- 
 ter's voice went on, encouragingly. This fact was 
 quite evident from the crunching sound made by 
 the descending feet of the two expressmen, who 
 ground the well-distributed fragments into the hard- 
 wood floor below.
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 22J 
 
 " And the floor has been newly done over, you 
 know," she said to Mr. Beaufort. He, however, had 
 no time to waste upon speculations of this sort ; he 
 was down on his knees before one of the packing- 
 cases trying to fit a key into its Yale lock. He had 
 been all through the bunch once, without success, 
 and had begun again, this time more slowly. 
 
 " Quick ! they are bringing in the piano and we 
 must have some light in the parlor," Kate was 
 heard to exclaim, as a heavy thump against the hall 
 wainscoting bespoke the entrance of that musical 
 instrument. 
 
 Mr. Beaufort had succeeded in unlocking two of 
 the packing -trunks, and he and Henrietta were 
 plunging wildly into them to find the much-needed 
 lamps. "That's the trunk with the table-linen in it, 
 Henrietta," her mother said, coming into the room, 
 "there are no lamps in there." This was already 
 evident, as her daughter had reached the bottom 
 after piling out the table-cloths and napkins in all 
 directions on the floor. 
 
 " Here is part of the study lamp," Mr. Beaufort 
 exclaimed, joyfully, throwing out armfuls of every- 
 thing pell-mell. 
 
 " Where are the lamp chimneys ? " Mrs. Beaufort 
 queried. 
 
 " Right on top of one of the barrels," Mr. Beau- 
 fort replied, as a fourth barrel was rolled into the 
 room.
 
 228 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 " But which barrel ? " his daughter called after 
 him as he stepped into the hall. " This one seems 
 to be all teacups," she continued, rapidly unrolling 
 a number and setting them on the table. 
 
 "Here's the ice-cream freezer," Mr. Beaufort 
 said, cheerily, setting it down directly on top of the 
 teacups, which flew like chaff before the wind. 
 " What under the sun do you want to go pulling out 
 that china for yet ? " he cried ; " I should think 
 there were enough things around already." 
 
 By the uncertain light of a blue, a yellow, and a red 
 candle the men groped patiently for the legs of the 
 piano, which they had great difficulty in adjusting. 
 Kate stood beside them holding a candle in each 
 hand, and shedding alternate streams of blue and 
 red wax over her dress, the prostrate piano, and 
 the bowed heads of the two expressmen, who finally 
 retired after no worse mishaps than falling over 
 one ottoman and upsetting the afternoon tea- 
 table. 
 
 As Kate picked up the tea-caddy and ran her 
 fingers over the surface of the brass kettle to ascer- 
 tain how deeply it was dented, she saw her father 
 standing triumphantly in the doorway holding a 
 lighted lamp in his hands, which was smoking in a 
 most lively way. " We Ve found some oil and 
 we 're all right now," he said, pleasantly. " Now 
 we can see where we are." 
 
 This privilege seemed, however, rather a doubt-
 
 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 22Q 
 
 ful one, as the added illumination revealed anything 
 but a cheerful view of their environment. 
 
 As the door closed behind the departing express- 
 men, Mrs. Beaufort suggested, wearily, " If we can 
 find that oil-stove, perhaps I can make a cup of tea, 
 for I am too tired to go out anywhere for my 
 supper." 
 
 Mr. Beaufort preceded her with the lamp, and 
 they threaded their way cautiously over piles of table 
 linen, broken china and the rest of the debris which 
 covered the dining-room floor out into the hall, 
 where grandmother Hamilton's shattered portrait 
 looked reproachfully out from among hammock 
 poles, bath tubs, and bundles of pillows and piles of 
 rugs. 
 
 They entered the parlor, where the piano stood 
 decorated by wax of many colors, and passed 
 through into the sitting-room, where the oil -stove 
 greeted their gaze ; there it stood, safe and sound, 
 in the centre of the polished mahogany table. 
 
 Having insisted that the others must go and 
 get a substantial repast, Mrs. Beaufort sat alone in 
 the midst of chaos. Barrels stood half unpacked 
 about her, and broken china was under her feet, 
 while the light from the lamp, which streamed dimly 
 through the smoky chimney, revealed a wash-tub 
 filled with cooking utensils resting upon the top of 
 Henrietta's writing-desk. 
 
 Mrs. Beaufort silently watched the water in the
 
 230 A FURNISHED COTTAGE BY THE SEA. 
 
 little saucepan on the oil - stove, which was almost 
 boiling, as she drew from her luncheon basket, near 
 by, a few crackers, the remains of their hasty lunch 
 at noon. 
 
 On the dining-room table, beside the oil -stove, 
 stood the ice-cream freezer, a waffle iron and a coal- 
 hod, but Mrs. Beaufort saw them not; she looked 
 across at a ghastly reflection in a mirror opposite. 
 The mirror reflected a haggard face with a bandage 
 over one eye the eye which had come in contact 
 with the pantry door. 
 
 As she gazed at the mournful spectacle, she 
 murmured to herself : " I know not what punishment 
 I have deserved for past misdoings, nor yet what 
 fate the future has in store for me, but I devoutly 
 hope I may not be called upon to expiate my sins 
 by renting another furnished 'cottage by the sea.'"
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY 
 
 THE writer smiled complacently as he penned 
 the following lines : " Mr. J. Turner Dodge 
 regrets that a previous engagement will prevent him 
 from accepting Mrs. Horton's very kind invitation 
 for Hallowe'en." Then he cheerfully directed an 
 envelope, and after extracting a stamp from his 
 letter -case, he caught up his hat and went forth 
 to mail his note at once. 
 
 As the lid of the letter-box clicked after the 
 descending " regret," J. Turner Dodge gave an 
 audible sigh of relief and briskly retraced his steps 
 to his rooms in Beck Hall. His return was hailed 
 by his special crony, Charles Manhattan, who had 
 come in to consult him about some vital question 
 regarding athletics. 
 
 " What are you so pleased about ? " his friend 
 inquired, as he entered; "you look as if you had 
 just received an extra check from the old man." 
 
 " I Ve been doing up my society correspondence," 
 laughed the other ; " by the way, are you going to 
 do anything special next Monday night ? "
 
 234 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 
 
 Manhattan took out a small engagement - book 
 and scanned it. " No, nothing for Monday night," 
 he replied. 
 
 " Well, then, you have a pressing engagement 
 to go to the theatre with me ; we '11 go anywhere 
 you say. Now set it down and underline it three 
 times, and put ' supper afterwards ' in a big paren- 
 thesis." 
 
 After Manhattan had gone, his friend sat for 
 some time gazing thoughtfully at the frost -nipped 
 plants in the box outside of his window. A casual 
 observer would have said that he was critically 
 inspecting the condition of the drooping geraniums, 
 but, in reality, at that moment he was totally uncon- 
 scious of the existence of the vegetable creation. 
 
 J. Turner Dodge was inwardly reviewing his first 
 Hallowe'en party; it was just a year ago that he 
 had received an invitation from some suburban 
 friends to spend that witching evening at their 
 pleasant country house. 
 
 He knew the people only slightly, and the invita- 
 tion seemed rather a formal one, but " Hallowe'en " 
 sounded decidedly attractive. It savored of old- 
 fashioned games and dances (of which his knowl- 
 edge was very limited), and of thrilling ghost stories 
 whispered to a spellbound circle about a blazing 
 wood-fire. Therefore Dodge accepted the invitation 
 immediately, undismayed by the fact that he must 
 take a trip out of town, and he found himself look-
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 235 
 
 ing forward to the prospective party with no little 
 pleasure. 
 
 " They never have anything of the sort in New 
 York," he remarked to his friend Thornton, who 
 roomed near him ; " nothing but the same old tire- 
 some things over and over again." 
 
 That young gentleman grunted unsympathetically. 
 " It may be the same old thing with a different label, 
 my boy ; at the last Hallowe'en party I went to, we 
 played progressive euchre all the evening. There is 
 the booby prize," he concluded, pointing to a many- 
 colored drum suspended from his gas -fixture, and 
 bearing the appropriate motto, " Something that you 
 can beat." 
 
 This was a bit disheartening to Dodge, but he 
 consoled himself with the thought that he always 
 had pretty good luck at progressive euchre, after 
 all. 
 
 He was in a particularly happy frame of mind on 
 the eventful evening. The football team had been 
 doing fine work all the afternoon, and he had been 
 able to cut a large number of recitations success- 
 fully ; then, his new dress suit had just come out 
 from the tailor's and it fitted him perfectly. It had 
 arrived exactly in the nick of time, he meditated, as 
 his old one was really too shabby to be seen in. If 
 Dodge had been a girl he would have gazed at him- 
 self in the mirror long and with undisguised admi- 
 ration ; being only a man, however, he merely glanced
 
 236 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 
 
 carelessly at his glossy-coated reflection a couple of 
 times with tolerable complacency. 
 
 The first damper upon his high spirits he sus- 
 tained when he reached the railway station, for as 
 he strolled leisurely in to take the eight o'clock 
 train, he was greeted by the announcement that 
 the train had gone. " Eight o'clock train goes at 
 seven minutes of, now," the man at the gate informed 
 him with evident satisfaction ; " just changed last 
 Wednesday; next train goes at eight - thirty." 
 
 Dodge went back and bought copies of Life, 
 Judge, and Puck, and frowned over the jokes ; after 
 he had read them all, he discovered that it was 
 only quarter -past eight, and then he went out and 
 walked up and down in front of the closed gate ; he 
 wondered if it was a card-party, and pictured them 
 playing three at one table, or getting in some unwill- 
 ing elderly member of the family who did n't know 
 the game, to torture the other players. He could 
 see the unhappy substitute dragged from the quiet 
 enjoyment of an evening paper, throwing down the 
 left bower, and then hurriedly exclaiming : " Oh, 
 I beg your pardon, I never can remember that is 
 a trump." 
 
 Dodge was aroused from his meditations by the 
 sound of the last bell, which bespoke the departure 
 of the eight -thirty train, and, dashing through the 
 gate, he jumped aboard just as the train began to 
 move out of the station.
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 237 
 
 He was the last guest to arrive, and as he de- 
 scended to greet his hostess, he became aware of 
 the fact that the young people were enjoying a game 
 of blind man's buff; he also noticed that he was 
 apparently the only man present attired in a dress 
 suit ; the perception of this fact did not tend to put 
 him greatly at his ease, but he nevertheless en- 
 deavored to enter into the game with great enthusi- 
 asm, the result of this being his immediate capture, 
 after which he was blindfolded and left to dash 
 wildly about with his arms extended in the air. 
 He fell over chairs and crickets, and struck his 
 head against the sharp corners of bookcases and 
 jutting cabinets laden with bric-a-brac, while the 
 fun ran high and everybody danced about and 
 jeered at him, and the other fellows jerked his coat 
 tails. 
 
 By the time he had captured somebody it was 
 announced that everybody was to adjourn to the 
 kitchen for some magnificent fun. There were 
 chestnuts to be roasted, apples to be pared, and 
 endless other delightful things to be done. 
 
 In the centre of the kitchen stood a tub half-filled 
 with water. " How jolly, we are going to bob for 
 apples 1 " somebody cried out. 
 
 " Have you ever tried it, Mr. Dodge ? " a sprightly 
 young girl at his elbow asked, seeing him look curi- 
 ously at the wash-tub. 
 
 He replied that he had not. "Oh, Mr. Dodge
 
 238 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 
 
 has never bobbed for apples ! " she exclamed ; " we 
 must make him begin." 
 
 " Thank you, but I think I '11 let somebody else 
 show me first," he protested, determined not to in- 
 dulge, if he could possibly help it. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Dodge had better not try it in his 
 dress suit," put in some thoughtful member of the 
 company ; and after that, there was nothing left for 
 him to do but to insist upon bobbing for the kind 
 of fruit which he specially disliked, to prove that 
 his dress suit was only an old one, which he would 
 rather spoil than not. He was instructed that the 
 floating apples were to be extracted from the water 
 by the victim's teeth, and intent upon not seeming 
 disagreeable, he ducked his head desperately into 
 the tub and splashed and spluttered with the others. 
 " Fortune favors the brave," and showers them with 
 things they do not want, and this, without doubt, 
 accounted for Dodge's well-deserved success, for he 
 finally succeeded in extracting a much bitten apple 
 with which he emerged dripping and wrathful, but 
 determined not to show the white feather, even if he 
 were asked to dance in a coal-bin. 
 
 Then followed apple act number two ; this time 
 an apple was suspended from a string, and all 
 jumped wildly in the air after it, as if the loss of a 
 couple of front teeth was a secondary consideration 
 compared with the pleasure to be derived from 
 securing a bite of that apple. Dodge and a fellow
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 239 
 
 opposite him jumped for it at the same moment, 
 and the result was a violent collision which nearly 
 broke both their noses. 
 
 Next, some one produced a candle which was to 
 be blown out, and the girls took turns standing 
 upon a chair and holding it up at arms length, while 
 the young men jumped vigorously up and down, try- 
 ing to extinguish it with frantic puffs. Dodge, being 
 not very tall, exerted himself manfully until he was 
 fairly covered with candle wax, but he blew the can- 
 dle out and nearly upset the chair, young lady and 
 all, at the same time. 
 
 After this, they experimented with a bowl of flour 
 and a ring, and Dodge was, of course, the unlucky 
 one to take up the ring with his teeth from the 
 midst of the suffocating white particles, of which he 
 inhaled a sufficient quantity to almost choke him to 
 death. 
 
 One of the young ladies found a dish-cloth to dust 
 him off with, and was so kind about helping him to 
 dispose of the superfluous flour that he was led to 
 commit the folly of running around to the cellar 
 door on the sly, when she started down the stairs 
 with a looking-glass and candle. 
 
 Several of the fellows called after him that there 
 were three steps down into the cellar, but he did not 
 hear them, and tumbled down all three ; the sudden 
 crash frightened the young lady dreadfully, and she 
 dropped her looking-glass and candle, and proceeded
 
 240 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 
 
 to fall down the remainder of the cellar stairs, turn- 
 ing her ankle, so that Dodge had the satisfaction of 
 carrying her up the whole flight. This would have 
 been quite romantic if he had not discovered that 
 she was engaged to one of the other men, who had 
 intended going around to the cellar door himself, 
 until Dodge cut in ahead of him ; moreover, she 
 was very angry because the looking - glass was 
 broken, and said that she should now have noth- 
 ing but bad luck for seven years. 
 
 By this time, the chestnuts which had been put 
 on the top of the stove burned up, instead of pop- 
 ping as they should have done, and it was discovered 
 that nobody had thought to cut the necessary slits 
 in them. This filled the kitchen with black smoke, 
 which set everybody coughing, although they all 
 declared these little mishaps were half the fun. 
 Dodge wondered when the other half was going to 
 begin, as he tried to remove from his knees the 
 traces of his encounter with the cellar steps, with 
 a sooty brush which he found hanging near the 
 stove. 
 
 Then it was suggested that one of the most satis- 
 factory things to do was to fill one's mouth with 
 water and run around the house ; this was a sure 
 way of summoning one's fate in spiritual form. 
 Dodge was so glad to fill his lungs with a little fresh 
 air after breathing in an atmosphere of chestnuts in 
 a state of cremation for twenty minutes, that he vol-
 
 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 24! 
 
 unteered to make a circuit of the house among the 
 first. He started off briskly into the wet grass, re- 
 gardless of his patent leathers, and was making 
 remarkably good time when he was suddenly stopped 
 by an intervening clothes-line, which caught him 
 under the chin and threw him heavily to the ground. 
 He went quietly back to the house, thinking that if 
 a rope around his neck was to be his fate it was not 
 necessary to mention the lamentable fact, and he 
 had the satisfaction of seeing the next man measure 
 his length in the same way. Number two, however, 
 had not the sense to keep quiet about it, but called 
 out loudly, and applied several uncomplimentary 
 adjectives to the clothes - line, thereby spoiling any 
 subsequent fun in that direction. 
 
 Being all thoroughly chilled by this time, they 
 went back and cracked nuts and pared apples, and 
 threw the peel over their shoulders; and one girl 
 that he had taken a special dislike to, insisted that 
 her peel formed a perfect I), "did anybody's name 
 that she knew begin with a I)?" she inquired. No- 
 body could think of anybody whose name began 
 with that letter, and Dodge tried to back quietly 
 into the china closet, but just then somebody 
 looked at him and giggled, and then all the others 
 took in the situation and looked away from him, 
 so as not to make him feel conscious, and began 
 to talk about something else, while he blushed 
 and tried to pretend that his interest in cracking
 
 242 A HALLOWE'EN PARTV. 
 
 nuts had prevented his hearing the previous con- 
 versation. 
 
 Later they went back into the dining-room, and 
 had lemonade and more apples and nuts, and all said 
 how much nicer this simple, informal kind of thing 
 was, than any stereotyped supper. Dodge was al- 
 most starved, but he contented himself with paring 
 another apple, and then chopping it up into small 
 pieces and distributing it over his plate. The 
 crowning event was a Hallowe'en cake, which con- 
 tained a ring, a bodkin, a piece of money, and other 
 appropriate tokens. 
 
 Dodge got the thimble in his slice, and nearly 
 swallowed it by mistake, he was so hungry ; he tried 
 to make believe that he thought this a capital joke, 
 but he refrained from eating any more of the cake, 
 feeling sure that he had already unwittingly swal- 
 lowed the button, which all were anxiously searching 
 for, and which nobody could seem to find. 
 
 A silvery stroke from an adjacent clock warned 
 him that it was time to depart, and he rose, thank- 
 fully, to say good-night. 
 
 " I shall always remember my first Hallowe'en 
 party," he protested, as he tore himself away from 
 the festivities, amid regrets that he must hurry off 
 so soon. 
 
 The silvery - toned clock turned out to be five 
 minutes slow, but, by running all the way to the 
 station, Dodge managed to swing himself on to the
 
 A HALLOWED EN PARTY. 243 
 
 platform of the rear car of the departing train, at 
 the risk of breaking his neck. When he reached 
 the city, he wearily entered the railroad cafe', and 
 indulged in an oyster stew; it was a poor one, 
 and the oysters therein seemed to have clung per- 
 sistently to their shells, and faithfully retained frag- 
 ments thereof, but Dodge meditated, philosophically, 
 that he might as well swallow oyster shells as 
 buttons. 
 
 As he was hurrying to recitation next morning, 
 he met Thornton on the steps. " How was the 
 party ? " he called out ; " anything like what you 
 have in New York ? " 
 
 " No, thank heaven," Dodge responded, " we may 
 be awfully degraded there, but we have n't fallen 
 quite so low yet." 
 
 These were the recollections that rose before the 
 mind's eye of J. Turner Dodge, as he gazed at tin- 
 withered geraniums in his window-box. 
 
 A couple of days later Manhattan dropped in to 
 see him, remarking : " Oh, I say, when I got back 
 to my room the other day, I found an invitation 
 from Mrs. Horton for Hallowe'en, and I accepted, 
 so we '11 have to have our theatre-party some other 
 night. I knew it would n't make any difference to 
 you, and, moreover, I thought you might be going 
 to the party yourself." 
 
 " No, I declined on account of a previous engage- 
 ment with you."
 
 244 A HALLOWE'EN PARTY. 
 
 " Oh, come now, Dodge, I know better than that." 
 
 " Well, then, I have n't been educated up to Hal- 
 lowe'en parties. There are some tastes that can't 
 be acquired, you know; you must be born with 
 them, like the love of Boston baked beans." 
 
 " Oh, you 're too New Yorky for anything ; don't 
 you know that these jolly informal things are twice 
 as much fun ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I 'm satisfied with half as much fun ; 
 you can have my other half." 
 
 " I believe you think you won't get anything to 
 eat." 
 
 " I know better than that ; they '11 have apples 
 pared, and drawn and quartered, and suspended, 
 and submerged, and named, and numbered, and 
 gnawed ; and chestnuts, and bodkins, and buttons, 
 and lots of lovely things ; but, in spite of all that, I 
 prefer to be excused from parlor and kitchen gym- 
 nastics, they 're too great a strain upon my nervous 
 system." 
 
 " All right, I '11 mention that fact to them, if they 
 inquire about you." 
 
 " Thank you, I wish you would ; and if they pin 
 you down more particularly," Dodge concluded, 
 " you can say to them that the truth was I 'd just 
 got in my new football rig, and I could n't bear to 
 spoil it." 
 
 THE END.