The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1872-05-10

be her maid, nothing more nor less. "
"Forty dollars a MONTH" Mammals
faded eyes frightened. "But Corne-
liza Bydexter's maid!" And her
countenance fell again. I could not
but smile.
''It will be no such terrible mat
ter, after all, mamma. On the CON
trary, it Will be fun. Cornelia is as
good-natured as she can be, and you
know very well am an adept IN
hairdressing, and lace mending, and
frill-futing, thanks to the best of
mammas, who knows everything,
and has taught her daughters the
same?"
"But what would your papa say?"
gasped mamma, hardly, as yet, real
ilzing the conditions. I felt myself
grow pale.
"Papa! But he must never know.
We viii keep your counsel, mamma;
you and I and Jeanette. All that
need to be told is that I am going to
New York with Cornelia Bydexter,
and that is true enough"
And mamma took me lovingly in
to her arms.
"Octavia fought we ask to'this sacri-
fee from pour"
Nobody asks it, mamma; it is my
free-win offering. And oh, mamma,
I could not look DR.. Mortimore in
the face when I remember that his
bill has lain unpaid for six monthsI''
He looked up from his books in some
And mamma, also remembered in
this sternest and most incontroverti-
Gle of facts, had no more to say.
cit seems so strange!' eaid Miss
Bydexter.
'The idea of your being my maid,
you dear little MISUNDERSTANDING
thing! And you used to write all
my compositions for me at school,
too! Dear, dearl Only to think of
i'll Take care, Octavia, that bunch
of curles comes in first under the
braid, you know. And how came
you ever to think of it?
"Nonsense?" I cried briskly.
The long and the short of it is that
I want money and you do not-so
don't let's ay'any more about it.
Papa talked vain gloriousIy of
''my daughter in New York; Poor
papa! He had So little LETT to be
vain gloriously about. Mamma re-
mained wisely silent, and Jennette,
who was addicted to hero-worship,
firmly believed that her elder sister
was the noblest girl in the world.
Wiki n. MorA1vooro 81 IooaF CO
I aIterward heard-contracte his
brows, and thought that people who
colud afford to send their daugter to
pass a Winter at the Grand Hotel,
might attleast pay his moderate bill.
The month of March was wearing
itself away, and April sunshine was
penciling the sky with golden threads
interviewer with crystal lines of rain,
when one dav I astonished DR.. Nor
timore by walking into his Office.
surprise.
Miss Hadleigh! I supposed you
were in New York.
81 have returned with Mis- Bydex-
ter. Next week we go on to Wash
ington."
LIZ hlOI IlllOIG ulCbNC liz ODOEG GA
answer, but there was a peculiar, in
scrutable exp1 sssion in his eyes.
Was he thinking of fmamma and Jean
nette on the tread mill of patient
poverty at home? Was he fancying
it o modern edition of Cinderella
and the proud sisters? InvOlunta-
rally spoke with rising color and
tremulous voice:
"You are entirely mistaken, DR..
Mortimore; but it's my province to
explain"
"I said nothing"
'But you looked a good deal"
please TO interpret my looks,
he said, with an amused face.
My cheeks burned, and I bit my
lips with an undignifed anger. I
laid down a pile of crisp, rustling
bank notes on the desk beside him.
"Be SO kind as to receipt your bill,
sir"
He obeyedin silence, and walked
away, as he afterward told me, with
the air of an eighteen-year-old SINH
ramis." And
The rest of MS is in bold mas
culine handwriting, as different from
Octavia Hadleigh's delicate up and
down strokes as it is possible to i'm
agiue.
And, Octavia, to the contrary, not
withstanding, I shall take the liberty
of finishing this confession after my
own fashion.
I called that evening on Miss By
dexter. The fair Cornelia was jubi-
liant.
'I never had a pIeassnter season,
she declared ''I haven't be en-
nOyed oncs. De aVia is such charm
ing comp
"She is with you at present.?
"Ob, yes. She's my maid, you
know"
"Octavia Hadleigh!-your msid?"
I must have looked my astonish-
meut, for I saw it reflected in Miss
Bydexter's face.
'Why, TO be sure. Didn't you
know it2" And Miss Bydexter, who
was no adherent to the theory that
"silence is golden" poured out the
whole story.
"Of course I wouldn't tell every
one" she said, rather guiltily, as
Remembering some hiCherto forgot
ten charge of secrecy. "But 1 know
you would appreciate it-and she IS
50 sweet, and they are so poor!''
'Is she at homer" I rsked.
''No; she has gone around to her
fathers. But I expect her back
every minute"