The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1871-02-14
MIR. vERLEY'S NIECE.

Il n Will pass through Ihlo pdlI vi
the country again, Mr.. Verley|
"No I DON'T" said the old bachelor,
decidedly.
He was something of bear to answer
so crustily when Barbara Smith stood in
the doorway, with the shadowy lashes
dropping over the soft brown eyes, and
roses melting into deep carmine on her
rosy cheek, until her muslin dress was
plain in comparison Such pretty, big
eyed, loving little Barbara as she was, in
all the blonde freshness of her eighteen
summers, and the soft sigh that hUtter-
ed from her lips as the one-horse carriage
drove away, was checked instantly. Bar
bara had no idea of becoming victim to
unrequited love, though she had rather
fancied Mr. Verley during his brief So
iourn at her fathers house
Mr. Verlcy drove away through the
rustling green draperies of the summer
lanes whistling sadly as he drove.
shall be in very good time for the
1890 train" he meditated to himself
Punctuality is the soul of business, and
1 never was one of the bchind-hand tribe,
thank Providence. Besides, l think it
was becoming dangerous to remain in
that place any longer l am thirty-nine
tomorrow, and that is just twenty years
too old for me to go making a fool of my
self Fancy me getting married No
you don't, Joseph Verley, my friend"
AS he settled himself comfortably in
the crowded railroad car, and opened a
letter, the subject again occurred to his
mind with curious persistence.
"The letter of my poor brothers exocu-
tor came just in time, or l should certain
ly 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 a son instead Of a
daughter? / never did understand a
womans ways, and what's more l don't
want too. / am to meet her at Speedville,
and take her home with me. COP
groaned Mr. Verley referring despairing-
ly to his letter. And what I'm going
to do with her when / get there, I'd like
to know l suppose she's great crea-
ture, 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 I'll send her to
a boarding-school, that's what I'll do with
my niece-and perhaps when she has
graduated there the schoolmaster can sug-
gest some means of getting rid Of her.
Of course she'll have dozen large trunks,
and bonnet box and parrots cage
that's the way women generally travel, |
believe. / am glad | am out Of the way
of Barbara's destinations now"
Mr.-.Verley looked out OF the car win
dow, IA sort Of calm desperation at the
prospect before him.
1 suppose she'll want piano, and
maybe poodle dog, and there's no know
ing what else. don't see why Harold
wanted to die and leave his daughter to
my care just now. Speedville station
-twenty-seyen miles further. | wish it
was twenty-seven hundred miles-that' S
what | 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 a series Of brief troubled
dreams, wherein the vision of tall, nice
young lady figured conspcuously
Are we here already" he stammered
starting to his feet, as the conductor
bawled out "Speedville Station" and
seizing umbrella, valise and travelling
shawl, with the bustling bewilderment
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 a depot. Into this
building Mr.. Verley walked, looking right
and left for the young lady whose guar
dianship he was to assume.
"Of course" he responded mentally
she'll be on the lookout for me women
are proyerbially curious"
But Harold Verley's daughter was no
on the lookout for her uncle. When the
crowd incident to the evening train had
subsidized and the people had gone theil
different ways, the only remaining occu
pants of the depot, were Mr.. Verley, /
lame old man who sold peanuts and ap
pies, anda decent looking colored woman
with brilliant Madras turban on he
head, who took care of the building
Neither of these could be his neice, Sc
Mr.. Verley, after little perplexed hesi
tation, addressed himself to the colorec
l. L 4. 1. L .