The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-03-21

hololnS up the little billet between her
finger and thumb ono message-noth-
ing?"
II believe III, there was letter for
Miss Lenore."
"Whero is it? what has become of
it? Bring it here"
'lt you please, IN, think Nichols
took it up to Miss Lenore an hour
ago."
He retires, inwardly amused, inter-
estcd, compassionate. no doubt; out
wardly as absolutely Indifferent to the
joys, the sorrows, the deaths, the mar
riages, the fittings and being j,ltcds, of
his family, as is incumbent on any SER
want who wishes to keep his situation.
The urn sputters and fizzes; the pug
sits on his on his launches, with bis
blear eyes rolling, and gives a short,
suppressed bark, that means "Muffin "
We stare at one another.
81 thought there was something
wrong last night, when Lenore said he
had gone home with headache" say
l, with that sort of back-handed proph-
ecy-that "told-you.so" wisdom-fo1
which women are so remarkable.
$50 did T." said Sylvia determined
not to be behindhand in sapienco.
Again we stare at one another, with
our toast dropped from ou- fingers, and
our tea quickly cooling in the frosty
morning air. II think I will go and
see bow she is getting on,' I say, ris.
ing.
$50 will l." says Sylvia, rising, too
This is not quite what ! wish, but il
cannot be helped. As wo pass the
nursery, the children, hearing our foot.
steps, shoot out like bomb.shells, and
JOIN US.
BY the time We reach Leuore's doo1
VIC form quite considerable cortege
both as to noise an1 numbers.
| I knock-oo answer. I knocl
again. "Lenore, may I coma in 2
Still no answer. I try the handle-i
is locked. I announce the fact.
CHOW very odd!' says Sylvia, rat
ting the handle in her turn. lie
more! Lenore VIC are all come to Sc
you. Let us in!'
| I do not myself think this form 0
request likely to invite comphance
but, whether it is or not, it meet
with no better success than its prede
cessors.
"Do you think she can have got GU
Of the window ?" suggests my sister
beginning to look rather tragic.
"Atsurd ! Why should she ?"
Again we knock and rattle eac
one in turn, and then altogether. N
result.
"Suppose yvu look through th
key-hole, Jemima ?" says Sylvia.
l comply. A key-hole IS an ur
satisfactory vehicle for exercisin
sight. At my first glance, I see no,E
ing; at NY second, I dimly discern
. what looks like rose.colored heap ly
ing on the hearth-rug. I announce
} in whisper. "Poor soul l I'm afrai
l that she is taking it sadly to heart"
: "Lying on the hearth-rug" repeat
Sylvia, turning rather pale, ,yand clutct
ing my arm.
, "Good Heavens Jemima, 1 hoy
2 she has not-has not-put-put a
end to herself!'
"Fiddlesticks p cry I, angril
/ "Why should she? How could she
o Swallowed the poker, I suppose, {
cut her throat with a small-toot
y comb"
e Sylvia applies her eye, in turn,
9 the key hole.
9 "Lcnore !' (raising her voics), "wh
are you lying on the hcarth-rue
o What are you doing? You are frigh
# eninS US all out of our wits. Open tt
q door this instant"
Q We hear a noise inside; in m
it ment more the door is flung rough
). open, and Lenore confronts US in h
drcssing.gown-her undressed ha
I falling in long, bright-brown show
It about her face, which is ash.whit
a Her eyes are red, and her eyel1ds re
der-the first are half and the lat,
Ie double their normal size.
IS "What do you want" she sa,
g hoarsely. "Why are you making tt
g noise? What has brought you
h here p
A daunted silence falls upon US ~
io moment, then Sylvia speaks
,e "Nothing particular, dear; We on
,e wanted to know what has made Pa
q take himself off so suddenly, and y
10 thought you might be able to tell US.
d II neither know nor care" she a
10 swers, 6ercely but l sec both lips al
eyelids twitching.
,e "Aunty Lenore, how red you no
!. is !" cries Bobby, with all that delica
it for others feelings, that: charming re
icencc, so characteristic Of infancy
st staring at her the while, with eyes
80 black and round as the plums in
% Christmas pudding. The last stra
a. breaks the camcl's back.
~ "Had not you better send for Il
servants and the stablcment, the do
and the parrot 7" cries Leuore, turoil
savagely to Sylvia. 'It is pity tn
T vou shonld not have everv living tLil