The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1875-02-13

put you into my arms-an' you not year
old-and dldu't she say, God deal with
you as you do with her. Honora % Didn't
she see, poor, purity young thing, that
Irish HOnora was more to be trusted than
the baby's own father-he bein' accordin'
to nature a man? You're nearer a ser
want here nor the daughter of the house,
go, be STILL dear old Honora. You have
dealt tenderly with me. | don't care to go
out; Clara says it's a terrible bore, and
papa does not wish it. l am past fifteen
and have never had one unhappy day
/ You and papa love me, mother does some
times when she has time. If youU only be
good and not worry papa. l fancy he's
not quite we'll of late"
swell, then go; sure, it's because you're
like Summers own sunshine yourself that
you're so happy. That bit of a wasp
wasted thing at the house, with her sharp
nose and yallow skin takes all the fiuery-''
"But you won't tease poor papa, please,
| Honor?'
Clyde wlung a reluctant promise from
her. seized her in rapturous embrace,
and flew off down the shady orchard path
f., see her blue birds, trlling fairy, bird
Ike song as she went.
A woman in shabby, scedy black stood
leaning over the wall at the back OF the
orchard. An impulse she could not resist
made Clyde 60 up to her and say "good
morning.
The woman sat down upon an ancient
trunk, and raising a pair of shrewd blue
eyes to the young girls face, studied her
well.
g l am not mstaken-ths is the Dayton
farm house,
Yes. Did You come in the stage this
morning to hunt a place? Have you no
girl to work for you?''
Not one girl in the wide world. l am
going up to the house-will they let me in,
think you?'
"Of course"
"You are Mr.. Dayton's step daughter,
rerhapso''
son, no, am Clyde Dayton. Mothers
! daughters name is Clara
Brown"
eyes; but you mustn't call her that
she doesn't like its
"Ah. and what do you do, anything?'
"Not much; toll not, but am not ar
rayed like the lilies of the field, you see.
l am to entertain an old lady-aunt of
! ara's-when she comes"
"Shall you like it?'
! 81 don't know. Clara says she knows
! she is an old trump whatever that means
If she is that, you know, l can't like it. l
am very fond of nice old ladies'
| Like me, for instance"
1 Clyde laughed, and the old lady laughed |
as if she enjoyed it too
'Well, miss, if you can get me up to (
the house without being noticed and send
for the trunk afterwards, shall lie obliged. /
You are to take care of the old trump
you know"
care you'll beg your pardon; mother |
would scold if she knew. But I'm rather
glad after ALL shall not be bored
"Don't be too sure" The cid lady bent
down and kissed Clyde's fresh young cheek. /
81 was young once, and l still love the .
/ SpIlNS anu Tue apple ploSsollls. On are
like flower yourself, child"
"1?" said Clyde, surprised. but not at .
all embarrassed; 81 am not pretty. Clara I
would laugh-sAc is beauty!'' (
Handsome is that handsome does;'"
the old saying came grmly from the old .
woman's lips. g But come on, child, ! .
may as well face the dragon first as last
"If you mean mother, she is very good .
natured, except when she is worried. You /
needn't be afraid of her,
! The early Summer days went on. The ,
| great old house was full of guests, and |
! Clyde and her " old trump stole about the .
! house like thieves to avoid them. Clyde (
/ knew that her skirts were Scant and her .
| sleeves all too short-no need for Clara to /
warn her that it would look $50 odd ~ for
her to appear among them. Once Or twice
/ they caught glimpse of a sunny head /
among the shrnbhery, Or pair of glowing ,
/ brown eyes peering out from some covert,
bat the glimpse was as fleet us it was tan
talizing.
/ Sometimes Clyde would steal down in the
3 tluSh " ICdi Liz iHuSlC, anu i'i5Cu Win
all her soul to be one of the happy group,
/ but would always slip back to her old lady !
| with some careless speech on her ready /
/ tongue, and though she could not always /
/ deceive, she always contented her.
/ AS the season wore Oil, the old house
! slowly emptied, as one after another of the
| guests went away. At last Clara and her I
mother, dragging the unwilling father in
/ their wake, fitted away too, and Clyde I
/ and the cold trump" kept house. But
one hot July day there came to Clyde a tel
! egram that gave her her first heartache.
Your father has had a sunstroke come
| quickly
And Clyde went-a little, shabby wave,
| into that sea Of bright toilets; but she was
not alone. Aunt lngals helped and advis
/ ed, keeping very close to Clyde until she
toled up five flights, white and silent, to
her fathers bedside. He did not know
/ her. and she sat there hour after hour until
the laborcd breathing ceased.
| She heard dreadful whispers Of his - af-
/ fairs being in terrible state, she even
! heard one say that he brought death on
himself by the recklessness of despair.
Bat the farm" she whispered to her.
self with white lips, the dear old home is
surely left
But even the old farm was no longer
! herS,-she was homeless.
/ Mrs. Dayton wept and groaned. Clara,
tired of the atmosphere of grief, went to
some friend for month; only Clyde and
lIonora had energy enough left to attend
to the hohse. Nothing at ali remained to
| Mrs. Dayton but the little brown cottage
she had occupied as Eplraim Browns
widow, and as they sat together in the
empty house the night before they left
7 therr old home. she said to Clyde:
. You must go somewhere and iind come
thing to do. Clara has friends whom she