The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1874-10-10

| persisted,
81 don't see how bother you. us only
| simple question; but l know what the real
answer is-you don't care straw! Pm only
| poor clerk and there are plenty of rich wild
overs in the world"
"Oh, HarryF'
This time Lottie sobbed outright, and SO
piteousy that Harry was conquered,
81 ought to be ashamed Of myself, know
had! Don't cry please don't cry, dear. If
you knew half how sorry am myself-how
it seems to me never can 90 away from you
you wouldn't blame me; you'd forgive me,
if am brute! You do care about me, don't
you Lottie?'
No answer, but unrestrained soos and mute
resistance as he tried to take her hand.
"Lottie!' There was a whole volume of
reproach in the one word.
oh, don't, don't! You mustn't talk to mo
any longer"
'And you won't answer me?"
No reply.
"And you don't love me?"
Silence still.
Suddenly an arm stole around Lottie's
waist and the hidden face was lifted and
scanned by pair of blue eyes.
"Lottie, do you love me or not"'
"I-I don't know. mean 1 doh't-I can't
you mustn't talk to me So"
"Why not?"
"What in the world is the matter with
you"
''Nothing," said Lottie, freeing herself des-
perately, as the odor Of cigar was waited
toward them, and the top of a beaver hat be-
came visible at the extreme end of the garden
walk. go away-oh, do go away"
iii 60 when you've answered. 1t is a lit
tie thing enough to ask. just say yes or no.
tell you l love you; you know do. Pm
poor man, but can make my wife comforta-
BILE, and Pm certain can make her happy.
morning; if you say you don't, never shall
be happy again. Say yes or no."
What Lottie meant to answer is hard to
tell. Mr.. Davenport came into view sudden
ly, and her mothers voice sounded from the
kitchen.
"Lottie, Lottie, where are those peas?"
She tore her hands away, and sprang down
the step, saying, hastily and contradictorily:
"No, no; certainly. Yes, in minute"
Without word more Harry picked up the
peas for her-the work OF iull five minutes
set the basket on the porch, and walked away.
| Ten minutes later the peas were finally
| sheled and put on the kitchen table, but Lot
tie was nowhere to be found. She was locked
| in her chamber. The seal ring had been
tossed Indignantly upon the floor, and its
new owner was crying as IT her heart would
break.
Half that long summer afternoon she stayed
shut up, too miserable to face any comment,
too hopeless TO see any way out ot.the trouble
she had brought upon herself; for if she had
said "no''to Mr.Davenport, and yes" to Harry
Willard, she would have been happy girl.
| What was there to do but face the conse-
quences? She might unsay the yes, but new
er the no; and yet if she were to write to
| Harry-if she were to tell him she never
meant it! There was still a little of his holt
| day leit-if, indeed, he did not let his anger
| hurry him away.
| The sunshine of mid-afternoon was slantiDg
| in on the faded carpet and yellow wash-stand
| as Lottie hastily bathed her ewes and pulled a
| wrting-desk toward her. 1t slanted more
| and more from the west as she sat consider
| ing, perplexedy biting the end of her pen,
writing and rewriting and tossing aside tiny
| cream-tinted sheets of paper, until the table
was covered with beginnings, and only one
| sheet was left in the box. iris she finally
took up desparingly, and wrote the date and
| the commencement.
| "MY DEAR HARRY-I don't know how
| to write this to you, and l am very much
| ashamed to take back what said, but I new
! er meant to say it. had to, because Mr..
| Davenport was coming, and that was his ring
1 haG on my finger, and he had just asked
| me to marry him, and had said yes, be-
cause, you know, he is so rich, and thought
it would be nice to be lady. don't know
what made me say yes, for don't love him,
and do love you. am so sorry said what
did. You'll forgive me, won't you, now
| body but you? Please! LOTTIE."
As she sat looking at this rather crude pro-
| duction of hers a difficulty occurred to her.
How should she send it? Garry it to the
post-office, and let the postmistress, who had
known her from baby, discover that she had
written to Harry Willard? Never Drop it
| into the post-box? No, for the handwriting
would betray her, and the whole town would
hear of it. Could she give it to Harry her
self? No. not that! Or give it to Susan to
| give him? Worse yet. Thoroughly per-
picked and disheartened, Lottie fell a prey to
| her own fears. If Harry had the letter, he
might be disguised by her forwardne IS, or
else too much displeased to forgive her at all.
Perhaps it was unladylike to think of sending
the letter, and yet, if she did not sendit, Har-
| ry would go away.
| A miserable half hour of indecision fol-
lowed, at the end of which she tossed all the
scattered sheets in a heap into her writing
desk, locked it, and then cried with renewed
abandon. A series of sharp raps on the door
| and a voice by no means gentle reused her.
'Lottie! l say, Lottie! For goodness
sake, what are you about? Here it's after
four, and no cake for supper, and Mr.. Will
lard going in the six train! Come right down
stairs, and don't let us have any more david
ling! Come! there's no time to spare"
How Lottie ever got Into the kitchen, and
in what manner she contrived to begin her
| cake-making, she never knew. Harry going
at six! She was such child that his going
| away seemed to her to end everything finally
between them. She should never see him
| again! over and over she said to herself, as
she mechanically weighed the flour and the
sugar for sponge cake,beat her eggs, and COM
menced to mix the ingredients. great
many tears fell Into that cake, and they so
blinded her that she did not see her mother
at her elbow, as she was dropping it into the
pans, until sharp voice startled her.
"Lottie, what has come over you? You
haven't put bit of paper in the bottom of
those pans! 1t would have burned for GER
tain, and here it is almost 5. Hurry! go and
| get some paper, quick!'
Lotte, still mechanically, searched the
drawers of the dresser in vain; and, spurred
action by the sharp voice and by the sound
| of the clock striking 6, she rushed up stairs
to her own room, tore off two half sheets OF
paper from the pile she had thrust into her
| desk. ran down again, and had the cake into
the oven in such a. miraculously short time
that even her mother was astonished.
"There now, pick over these berries, and
set the table. Susan hasn't finished ironing.
And fetch up the butter, and
The voice buZzed Gin Lottie's ears, as she
hurried from one thing to another At last
everything was done and on the table but the
cake, aad the shrill ringing of the supper-bell
aGmonished Lottie 10 hurry with that. New
err was cake so unceremoniously tipped out of
the pans and so roughly cut up. The papers
had burned on, and there was no time to
stop to pull the fragments off. So Lottie
made the best of it, and left them on, dump
ing the cake-basket down on the side-board,
with long sigh of relief.
She did not dare to 60 to supper on account
of her swollen eyes, and on account of Mr..
Davenport, whom she was afraid to meet.
And if Harry was going. what was the use?
She could not let him go unmatched, howev-
er; so, running up stairs, she hastily donned
a walking dress and hurried out of the back
door toward the village. From the post-office
she would be sure to see him pass, and it
"would be some comfort just to do that"
thought poor Lottie, trying to swallow the
lamp in her throat as she fastened along.
+ a. Il ILL II.