Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1876-03-02

my advice you'll send him on sharp
4 believe you are jealous. Mr.. weare,
and telling stories about the Captain;
he is very polite to me, and she smooth
ed her pretty hair aud arranged the tri.
aes ON the counter.
oh, he's polite enough no doubt.
And he's bringing me some flowers.
Now look here, Jennie, are you GO
ing to take them 2
OF course l am
well. then, good-by.'
Good-by,' she laughed. OF course
she knew be wouldn't 60.
Jennie, he'll be in directly, and I
shall be off, but you must choose be-
tween him and me. If you are going
10 keep on talking to him shall never
come in the place again, SO which is it
to be?
The Captain
But I am not joking. RI never see
you again.
No more am joking, 80 good.by.'
'Good-by,-and he went.
He kept resolutely away for a whole
lmonth-never once went near the place.
If Jennie wanted him she might send
for him or get her sister to invite him
to tea, as she had done before. But
John Weare was not sent for, neither
was he invited to tea, and hisspirits be-
gan to wax low.
IF she cared about me she'd have got
in my way somehow before this-trust
a woman,' he thought.
The idea of not being cared for was
not cheerful. That night he strolled
carelessly by the shop, hut on the oppo.
site side of the way. Nothing was TO
be seen of Jennie. He walked on in a
brown study, then crossed over, and
went deliberately by the shop, with only
one eye, however, turned in its direc-
ton, but not sign of Jennie. He went
back to the barracks In detected frame
of mind.
It's an awful pity-such q nice girl;
and there's the cottage all ready for
her to step into and me ready TO retire
from the service and a good trade at
my back; it's too bad, all along of that
Captain McGee too. And the fruit in
the garden (of the cottage) all ripe and
no one to pick it.
The very next morning John Weare
walked deliberately into the shop and
asked for a penny newspaper, and had
the felicity of being served by Mrs. Ev-
ans.
Quite stranger, Mr.. Weare,' she
said, but that was the only remark she
made, and for the life of him he could
not screw up his courage to ask for her
sister.
That night John Weare was misera-
bic.
She can't care q rush for me- he
thought, and marched all over town,
and nearly to Greenwich and back, in
his excitement.
The next day was a lucky one for
John. He came across Bibbs. Bibbs
was Mrs. Evans eldest boy. No one
knew what his real name was, or why
he was called Bibbs; but he was never
called anything else.
'Bibbs,' said John Weare, come and
have some fruit aud he carried him
OF in triumph to the cottage and stuffed
him with gooseberries till he couldn't
move, and with black currants till
his mouth was - black as a crow
Then he carried him inside and stood
him on the table, and sas down before
him.
How old are you, Bibbs?'
He thought it better to begin the con-
versation with question.
Five and hall. Il that your sword
up there 2
Yes. Who gave you those bronze
shoes, Bibbs =
Now he knew Jennie had given them
to him, but be 30 wanted to hear her
name.
'Auntie. She's going away soon,'
be added. Let me look at your sword
now
Where's she going to?' he asked in
CONSERVATION.
.Devonshire. Do let me try on your
sword
WHY is she going 2 be asked with a
sick feeling at bis heart.
She's i'll. think, and she's always
crying; now one day she was CRYING
over her silver thing that ron gave her,
and kissing it like everything.
The silver thing was little heart of
about the size of a shilling, which he
had bought at Charlton Fair last Octo-
ber, timidly requested her to accept.
John Weare jumped up and showed
Bibbs his sword and carried him on his
back all over the place, and entreated
him to have more black eurrauts in his
delight. But Bibbs declined
Aunt Jennie's going to bring me
some from Ethan tonight he said.
So Jennie was going 20 Ethan, wss
she John weare teok Bibbs home, and
On his wsy freseAtcf IN witka white