The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-12-13

els this Miss Hving?"
Pen bowed.
"Mr. Irving sent me to meet you.
The hotel is across the street. May |
take your things9"
AS Pen followed the hotel clerk the
owner of the buster, who had heard the
short monologue, started in an opposite
direction.
Pen found her uncle in the best room
in the house. He was lying in an easy
chair; his feet, resembling little pillows,
rested on footstool; shaded lamp, on
table near him, threw strong light on
pile Of New York papers, and a tray OF
empty dishes indicated that the inner
man had not been neglected.
$50, my dear, I see you lost no
time"
"No, indeed" Pen said, as she lightly
put her arm round his neck and kissed
him. "Well, are you better tonight"
"Worse, / think. The best doctor
here went off to attend the funeral of
some forty-ffth cousin and left substi-
tute that knows as much about medicine
as butcher. How did you leave every
body2"
"Quite we'll. Salie will spend the
holidays with Carrie, so we are all pro-
vided for. a. What did you have. for scp-
PERI"
"Nothing with any taste cit. Idon't
doubt they send to New York, but the
things are frozen ON the way up"
"Well, frozen or not, I am hungry
enough to enjoy anything"
"Well, they'll send up your dinner in
a few minutes. Your room is just across
the hail."
"I'll take off my hat, then, and be
ready to eat my dinner when it comes. %
Pen and her dinner arrived simulta-
neously at the door of Mr.. Irving room.
"You need not stay" she said to the
waiter, and as he disappeared she drew
the little table near the fireplace and sat
down facing her uncle.
"That's really comfortable, and how
we'll you look tonight
Pen put her hand to her bright cheeks
and laughed.
"The cold air has given me my old
color. This isn't such very bad soup.
"Oh, you're hungry"
doctor Stuart, said the clerk, open
ing the door for a tall man who stood
behind him and took in the scene at a
glance.
PENS color deepened as she rose. Mr..
Irving said, carelessly: "My niece,
Doctor Stuart, Miss Irving. + am very
glad to see you. Eat your dinner, Pen.
If the doctor 10 not in hurry we can
chat, or perhaps he will join you. Have
you dined, dootor?"
"Thanks, I've had lunch.'
ga railroad one, I suppose. just
ring that bell, Pen. BY the way, is
there room at that table ?"
"Oh, plenty, uncle" and then, as the
doctor looked meaningly at her,
Uncle, Doctor Stuart and I are old
friends"
Indeed! Well, then, you can en-
JOY yourselves, as I suppose you have
not met very lately
"Not for fourteen years." said the
doctor.
"Almost to day" Pen said, her eyes
flashing.
Mr.. Irving, stupid man, saw nothing,
but, as soon as the two were seated, and
another tray brought, turned to the
financial columns of the newspaper.
The embarrassment and hunger of the
pair were mutual. The doctor did not
mention having been on the train with
Pen, and she helped him and managed
some table-talk with so much Of her &C
customed grace that her guest began to
consider that the years had increased
and matured Miss Irvings charms.
With all his knowledge of human nature
he did not understand this woman. He
glanced at her fingers. Two large dia-
monds, each a solitaire, sparkled on her
left hand. He grew still more silent
Pen oorrespondingly brilliant.
She told him how much she enjoyed
hearing Titiens, and how delighted were
Thomas concerts. She described the
latest velvet walking dresses, referred to
the fall races, and, after moments ST.
lence, asked how he happened to be in
Port Jervis.
81 reside here, Miss Irving
sob"
Then they finished their mince-pie,
and she asked him to ring the bell, and,
after a little, Mr.. Irving became con-
scious that his niece had left the room,
and that the doctor was standing med
itating with his back to the fire.
Miss Irving, in her own room, raised
the wick of her lamp, drew chair to
the table, and sat down to think.
Undoubtedly the doctor WAS by this
time married; he had, she thought, the
look Of a married man, with children to
provide for. Of course it was all past
now, yet she could not but live over
some of the pleasant, happy moments
she had spent in his society, when both
were younger, gayer, more unselish.
"Here l am with no one in particular
to love or to love me. Uncle thinks he
is fond of me, but it is just because
amuse him when he can't go out to
amuse himself. Salie will marry Mr..
Harper, and then I'll be all alone. I
suppose father did right, but this life is
not all roses -