The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1871-03-16
WHY HE MARRIED.


eidedly-
He was something of a bear to answer
so crustily when Barbara Smith stood IN
the doorway, with the shadowy lashes
dropping over the soft brown eyes, and
the roses melting into deep carmine on
her rosy cheeks, until her muslin dress
was plain in comparison. Such pretty.
bie-eyed, loving little Barbara as she
was in all the blonde freshness of her
eighteen summers. and the soft sigh that
huttered from her lips as the one-horse
carriage drove away, was checked IN
stantly. Barbara had no idea OF becom-
ing victim to unrequited love, though
she had rather tancied Mr.. Verley dur
ing his brief sojurn at her fathers house.
Mr.. Verley drove away through the
rustIing green draperies of the summer
lanes. whistling sadly as he drove.
Il shall be in very good time for the
1890 train he meditated to himself.
s'Punctuality is the soul of business, and
I never vas one of the behind tribe,
thank Providence. Besides, [ think it
was becoming dangerous to remain in
that place any longer. am thirty-nine
to morrow, and that is just twenty years
too old for me to go making a fool of
myself Fancy me getting married !?
No YOU DON'T Joseph Verley my
friend.
AS he settled himself comfortably in
the crowded car, and opened letter, the
subject again occurred to his mind with
curious persistence.
1.-THE letter of my poor brothers exc
cution came just in time, or | should GER
tainly have fooled away more time than
would have been sensible OR profitable.
Poor dear Harold | don't see what On
earth possessed him to fall sick and die
on his way home from Venice, and leave
his daughter on my hands too. Why
could he not have left Son instead of a
daughter? I never did understand wo-
man s ways, and what's more, l don t
want to. [ am to meet her at Speed
vile, and take her aoGae. with me-. Or
groaned Mr. Verley, referring despair
ingly to his letter. And what I'm
going to do with her when I get there,
I'd like to know [ suppose she's a
great creature, with ringlets and ribbons,
and just as likely as not an Italian lover
talking sentiment to her-a creature
that reads Byron, and keeps an album,
and eats slate pencils and chalk. II
send her to boarding school, that S
what I'll do with my niece-and perhaps
when she has graduated there the school
master can suggest some means Of get
ting rid Of her. OF course She have a
dozen large franks, and borne box
and parrot cage-that' the way women
generally travel, [ belieye. | am glad
I am out of the way of Barbara's fascina-
tons now
Mr.. Verley looked out of the car win
dow, in sort of calm desperation at the
prospect before him.
81 suppose shell want a piano, and
may be poodle dog, and there's no
knowing what else. / don't see why
Harold wanted to die and leave her to
my care just now. Speedville Station
twenty seven miles further. I wish it
was tWenty-seven hundred miles-that' S
what I wish
And with this vindictive sentiment in
his mind, our hero tied red silk hand
kerchief over his head, and tried to lose
himself in series of brief, troubled
dreams, wherein the vision Of tall, nice
young lady figured conspicuously.
''Are we here already ?' he stammer-
cd, starting to his feet, as the conductor
bawled out "Speedyille Station and
Selling umbrella, valise and travelling
shawl, with the busting bewiderment
peculiar to people just aroused from
sleep, he alighted.
Speedville was rather large sized vii
lage, situated at the junction of several
railways. with an imposing American
Gothic structure for depot. Into this
building Mr. Verley walked, looking
right and left for the young lady whose
guardianship he was to assume.
"Of course" he responded mentally,
"she'Il be on the lookout for me; women
are proverbially curious.
But Harold Verley's daughter was not
On the lookout for her uncle. When the
crowd, incident to the evening train, had
subsidized, and the people had gone their
different ways, the only REMAINING oceu-
pants of the depot were Mr.. Verley, a
lame man who sold pea nuts and apples,
and decent looking colored woman, with
a brilliant Madras turban on her head,
who took care of the building. Neither
of these could be his niece, so Mr.. Yer
ley, after a little perplexed hesitation, ad-
dressed himself to the colored woman,
who was busily polishing the window with
a piece Of crumpled newspaper.
"Aheml [ was to meet my niece here
to-day. and I don't see her,
'Your niece, sir? what is her name ?''
'Verley.''
80 yes, sir; she has been here these
two hours, bless her dear heart; she's
asleep now"
"Asleept'' sasped Mr.. Verley but
the stewardess only answered him by
busting into the inner apartment and
bringing out what appeared to be CON-
pact bundle, with pink face at one end
of it,and mass of long trailing embroid-
cries at the other.
joseph Verley recoiled as far as the