The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1877-06-29

what an idiotic, unreasoning fool! And
what will become of me If ever Morris
Newton sees these silly scrawls? But,
surely, surely''-with a troubled effort
of the memory-''in the widest moment
of my infatuation, l never addressed
him as Dear Stuartp Be that as it may,
however, | must and aOiU get those let
ters back"
Fired with this determination, Patty
Farquhar resolved herself at once into
a private detective, searched Mr.. Wal
ler's room, and even got false key to
his trunks and went through their con-
tents, but all in vain. And she had the
sorry satisfaction of perceiving, by Mr..
Walters amused and patronizing air,
that he knew all about it.
"Ill have them yetw said Patty.
Miss Farquhar was standing with
clasped hands before the wide-opened
door of the old-fashioned oven, built by
the side of the kitchen chimney, and
extending a sort of hump-backed
excrescence, out into the lilac bushes of
the back garden, when Mr.. Waller
came, one afternoon, with a string of
speckled trout depending from his
finger.
''La PenSero8aw said be, lightly.
pardon me, Patty, but why are you so
grave ?"
She looked up suddenly at him.
"My thimblep' said she. at has
rolled down into the oven-my little
gold thimbleu
"And can't you reach it ?'
at is impossible!n
Nothing is impossible where a lady's
behest spurs me onu' said Mr.. Waller,
gallantly. "Stand aside one second,
Penserosa!"
And he sprang valiently into the
yawning depths of the old brick oven.
1t was decidedly warm, for the fires
had just been taken out; it was decidedly
dark, but no sooner had he entered than
Patty, a brilliant inspiration lighting
her heart and face alike, swung the
massive iron door to, and fastened it
with the sturdy bolt.
"Hellop' shouted Mr.. Waller. "What
are you doing there, Patty ?"
"Pm shutting the oven door," breath
lessly responded Patty.
"But l can't find your thimble in this
Egyptian darkness"
81 don't want my thimble."
"Patty-Miss Farquhar-what do you
mean ?"
"I mean to have those letters back"
announced Patty.
"Do you want to roast me alive in
this Black Hole of Calcutta of a place ?n
gasped Mr.. Waller.
"I don't think I care much whether
you roast or not" answered Patty, de-
liberately.
al shall shout for help"
"Shout away" said Patty, with q
laugh. "Dorcas is hanging out clothes
by the river, and mother has gone tC
the village. Do shout"
''Pattyw imploringly.
No reply.
miss Farquharm more imploringly
still.
"WelI ?"
Gam 1 to be a prisoner here for life ?'I
Until you give me those letters"
81 can't!" groaned Waller. 81 haven't
got them with me-"
"But you can tell me where they are
I Isuppose ?" rejoined Patty.
The oven was hot and dark-a sensa.
tion akin to suffocation stole over Mr.
Stuart Waller.
"Let me Outw said he, grinding hi:
teeth, land pll give 'em to you"
"That won't dOw retorted Miss PATTY
81 must have them before you come out
or not at all.n
"Impossibler'
Nothing is impossible" mimicked
malicious Patty, "where lady's behesl
spurs one on"
Mr.. Waller uttered an ejaculation
which was certainly not a prayer.
81 can't stand this broiling holeIi
shouted he. ain the little summer.
house, under the loose boards of the
table! Quick, or l shall be stified to
deathw
And Patty flew off as if her tiny feet
were garnished with wings.
In the little summer-house, under the
loose board of the table lay the two let
ters, as Mr.. Waller had said, wrapped
in oiled silk, and tied with yellow rib
bon. Catching them up, she tore them
hurriedly open.
81 knew it wasn't Dear Stuartv u
she exclaimed, mockingly; and then,
tearing them into a shower of infinites.
imal pieces, she flung them to the sum-
mer wind.
Half a minute later, Mr.. Waller
crumpled as to linen, frowsy as to hair,
and streaming with perspiration, erept
out of his sultry cell. Patty eourtesied
low to greet his egress.
"Walk out" said she. Coward and
liarp'
Mr.. Waller made no reply. What
could he have said.
He left the Farquhar cottage thai
evening. He said he had received a tele.
gram. Perhaps he had; but Patty had
her doubts of that subject. At all events
he disappeared, and Patty Farquhal
breathed free again.