Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1875-09-27
The Summer Vacation.


ed at meeting his employer in the
grounds of the Sylvan Hotel, land l
thought little change"
80, I've no objection at ALL" said
Mr.. Montiesor, kindly. Il hope you'll
enjoy it.
George Sinclair was a clerk at sala-
ry of nine hundred year, but. like ma
ny New York clerk, he had craving
after the forbidden delights of what he
termed "tip-top fashionable society,""
And Kitty Barker, his ,tiaacee, a trim
little damsel who stood behind the coun-
ter of fashionable fancy store all day,
and tried to add to the little sum laid
aside for her wedding outfit by doing
fine silk embroidery at night. admired
his spirit and enterprise.
1t never occurred to her that it might
perhaps be as we'll for him to save his
money towards the furnishing of the
ideal home they had so often talked
about, instead of aping the airs and gra-
ces of those who could so much better
afford to make fools of themselves than
he could.
George has such refined tastes said
Kitty, who believed devoutly in her
lover.
As Mr.. Sinclair walked along the
broad gravelled path, shaded by the
tent-like boughs of majestic old white
pines, a lady dressed in white, with a
black lace shawl festooned scarf-fashion
over her shoulders, met him face to face,
coming around the turn of the walk.
And at the same moment some friendly
emissary of old Boreas caught the hat
from her head. a dainty toy of white
chip, garlanded with French daisies, and
carried it halfway down the hill.
In an instant, Mr.. Sinclair had given
chase, recovered the fimsy concern, and
restored it to the blushing owner, with
bow. worthy of Sir Walter Raleigh
himself.
"l'm so much obliged to yOu," sim
pered the lady.
ooh, not at all, said Mr.. Sinclair
And he passed on.
"Hallo, old chap, you're in luck !''
cried Mr.. Beman, of the great New York
firm of Swietser & Co., who was cut out
of the same general pattern as our friend
George Sinclair. And he gave the lat
ter facetious poke with the end of his
ivory-topped cane wish was gone,
eh, Sinclair?' o.
81 am always delighted to be of use
to lady" said Mr.. Sinclair, little
stifiy.
''And sach a lady," said Mr.. Beman.
"Do you know who she is 90
"No. Do you?'
"Don'tI She's Miss Moneyford-
old Moneyford's daughter, that owns the
BabylOnish palace up in Wallace Ave-
nue. The only child. with clear in
come of twenty thousand year of her
own !"
allow do you know? When did you
see her ?" breathlessly demanded Sill
clair.
"Never saw her at all That's the
joke of the matter ' chuckled Beman.
"But | have seen that thread-lace shawl.
Twenty-Five hundred dollars 4! | sold it
myself to the old gentleman as birth
day gift for her. And l knew she was
expected at Lake Sylvan about this
time. say, old fellow, wouldn't it be
jolly, if you should marry the heiress !
Hope you won't forget to invite me to
the wedding %
Sinclair stalked on, in lofty disregard
of his companions ill-bred insinuations.
But, after all, they were not so impossi-
bic. Stranger things had happened.
Prosperous marriages had sprung out of
slighter foundations than these And
the heiress had certainly smiled very
sweetly upon him. as she received the
daisy-wreathed hat at his hands. Ifon-
, ly he hadn't been such fool as to 90
t and engage hlmself to Kitty Barker
That same afternoon he met the lady
,, on the shores of the lake. She was gra-
/ cious and smiling-he was anxiously re-
spectful-and the upshot of it was that
D the next day they went boating together.
r "How delightful is nature" sighed
the lady.
! ] see, Miss Moneyford, said George,
e that our souls are cast in congenial
f mood Nay. you need not look surpris-
ed have discovered your ircOgnaita -
e "Mr Sinclair %
: And they grew quite confidential to-
gether, gliding along the translucent
n current, beneath the shadow of the trees
d "Seven o'clock 1t can't be posi-
n Bile % cried the wearer of the thread
J, lace shawl. Really, Mr.. Sinclair, yor
must be magician to vile the time 81
swiftly away"
: George Sinclair sat and pOndered Ions
/
e in his seven-by-niDe in the top sto
~ of Sylvan Hotel. while he smoked hi
n cigar And before he slept he wrote !
: letter to Kitty Barker, in which, a