The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-01-02
Lost and Found !
A NEW YEARS STORY.

Ut was late afternoon of chill Novem-
Il Der day. Miss Laura Winterglade had
just got home from shopping excursion,
cold, weary and cross. Even the tropical
warmth and perfume of her own elegant
boudoir where her ever-devoted French
maid sat waiting her coming, the dinner
dress of shining silk displayed upon the
bed, and the cut-glass goblet of mulled
wine on the table, failed to coax the volca-
mic temper of this petted child of fashion
into anything like the winsome softness
she knew so exquisitely well how to assume
whenever occasion required.
But occasion did not require just then.
Her father was doing over his library fire,
perfectly at ease, in dressing gown and slip
pers, waiting for dinner, and Maxwell Fay,
the only man living whom she cared to win,
had been and gone in her absence. So, she
was quite free to give vent to her unavail-
ing wrath without the slightest danger of
being overheard, and she threw about her
pearl combs, spilled cologne, and scolded
Lisette to her full satisfaction.
ga pretty confidant you are, indeed A
nice person for one to trust ! Did | not
charge you over and over again to send that
girl up stairs with her sewing, in case Mr.
Fay should call during my absence? l
would rather have given thousand dollars
than to have had him sitting there in the
parlOr alone with her half the afternoon.
You could have prevented it easily enough
You can do anything you choose in the ma
nnuvreing line, and / never yet saw a
French woman who could not. Don't tell
me it was not your fault. l dare say you
had your magpie head, all the while, either
in the wine-cellar or in my bureau draw
ers. III make you suffer for it though"
Poor Lisette would no doubt have found
herself utterly wretched and inconsolable
under the weight Of her mistress's displeas-
ure, if a shining gold piece, given her that
afternoon by Maxwell Fay, had not lain, all
the while, like balm in her pocket. True,
there was half-worn rose-colored silk,
long coveted and long promised, hanging in
Miss Winterglade's closet, and she felt her
chances of possessing it growing beautiful
lyless, but consoled herself with thinking
that money was the best friend, after all,
and new dresses deal nicer than old ones.
While cunning Lisette was seeking vain
ly to chatter her mistress into something
akin to good humor, young girl sat close
to the window Of a luxurious little room,
off the spacious parlor, straining her Gre
tian-blue eyes over snowy cashmere robe
she was embroidering in a trailing pattern
of convolvuli. Thoroughly interested in
her work, and eagerly happy in thinking
of tempting glass of jelly and cluster of
grapes she would be enabled to purchase
for an invalid mother, Amber Gray needed
not that ii was past her usual hour for leav-
ing work, until rustic of silken garments
came along the dim silent parlor, and Lau-
ra Winterglade stood just within the room,
her cold gray eyes glittcring like steel, and
anger glowing in her cheeks.
Innocent Amber, just finishing the last
delicate bud, could think of nothing but
her completed work, that was to bring her
the means of furnishing sorely needed
comforts to the dear ones at home. Shame
upon the cruel revengeful woman who
could so relentlessly disappoint her
So you have finished my dress, at last, y
said Miss Winterglade, without one atom
Of appreciation in her icy voice.
The young girl looked up with "a vague
surprise.
"surely, Miss Winterglade, you must bc
aware that this working silk and chenille
is extremely difficult, and that 1t is impos-
sible to hurry without spelling it. Just
zee how lovely it is. Such an exquisite
blending Of leaves and blossoms One
must be very happy in wearing such beau
tiful things.n
Still her employer stood staring at her as