The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1877-06-28

-
be, and with as much conceit as any |
young beauty was ever blessed with. |
Her rough manners and ways of speech |
had become proverbial among her own
class, the other servants speaking of her
generally as Crusty Betsy. And this
girl had of late been occupied in the
room of her young mistress over some
new dresses, Straight to this apartment
Elsie flew, and, locking the door, sat
down opposite Betsy and said:
6 / have something for you to do, and
I'll pay you well for it.
"Just name it, then" said Betsy.
When I was little girl, Betsy, said
Elsie, "poor papa promised that l
should marry young gentleman who
lives in England when | was grown, and
that if I did not I should lose my fort
une. Now the time has come and he is
coming, and I can't marry him, Betsy,
and | want him to refuse me-. Do you
underestimate"
81 understand said Betsy, "and if
I were you I'd huff him off quick
enough, and make him glad to go, that I
would"
"And I can't think how to do it, Bet
sy," said Elsie, "and if you can you
must do it for me. While he stays you
must pretend that you are Miss Sea-
bright you must wear my clothes, and
take all the airs you possibly can, and
make him as unhappy as possible, so
that he'll have to refuse you-that is,
me, you know. Be sharp as you can
with him, Betsy-never the least bit
kind or nice. You'll try, won't you,
Betsy p
"f can give anyone as good as they
send, MISS" said Betsy. {" I'm no
mealy-mouth, and you'll pay me well,
MISS
"Tll give you hundred dollars,
Betsy" said the girl, " for you'll save
me freedom and my fortune and you'll
not refuse hip, you know, else all would
be spoilt."
"Tll manage" said Betsy.
Then the two girls left all other work
| to examine Elsie's wardrobe, and soon
Betsy was dressed in the most elegant
attire, her hair powdered, as was the
custom, and white gloves upon her
| hands.
"And T." said Elsie, evil be your
poor companion, and you must call me
Miss Smith and snub me and order me
about"
Thus all was arranged when the little
letter Elsie had been so long expecting
arrived, and, breaking it's blue seal, she
read that Mr.. Harrington would pay his
respects to Miss Seabright in an hour
How Miss Seabright laughed as she sat
waiting in the drawing room watching
Betsy sail up and down with all her new
assumption of dignity Betsy, with
the most amiable intention, would have
been sure of offending but Betsy, bent
on being unpleasant, would be grand
success.
Just then Betsy herself leaned from the
window.
"Oh, miss p she cried, G. there's car
riage at the door, and a gentleman
coming out Of it. Bless us p if that's
him, I dom wonder you want to be off
your match. Deary me oh, deary me p
But before she could explain servant
had brought Elsie card bearing the
name of Harold Harrington, and, as she
arose, an extraordinary figure entered
the room. It was very tall young man,
between whose shoulders, nevertheless,
grew an immense hump. He also,
though he seemed to move actively
enough, walked upon crutches. On his
head, from which he had removed his
cap, was black silk skull-cap, such as
entirely bald old gentlemen then wore.
Over his ears was big black bandage,
which also quite covered his chin. On
his right eye was large, green patch;
on his left cheek another. All that was
visible of his face was his nose, which
was certainly well-shaped, but which was
much the color of red flannel; and about
his throat was indeed flannel mufder.
This was Harold Harrington.
Elsle's surprise was so great that she
sank into chair, and forgot to prompt
Betsy as she had intended.
| But Betsy needed 10 prompting. She
was not IN the least embarrassed.
She advanced to meet Mr.. Harrington
! with grin of supreme insolence on her
face, and burst into loud laugh.
Well, " she said, $50 you are my
young man, are you? [ must say who
ever picked you out showed no mighty
great taste; 'twasnt for your beauty,
that's plain.
"No, madam" said the new arrival,
it was not for my beauty. Do I ad-
dress Miss Seabright?"
Why, who else should I be ?" cried
Betsy, "Twas not for your cleverness,
neither, you were chosen. But, now
you have come, sit down. Been in the
wars, haven't you?"
My infrmities," sighed the young
man, are the result of my recklessness
as boy. have a most sympathizing
letter from you upon the fall which broke
my limb. You remember it You also
condoled with me upon the careless shot
winch cost me my eye, though you did
not know how serious was the result. It
was while [ was ON trip to Switzerland
that broke my back, and, while endeav--
or1ng to drink some boiling tea the
| La Il. L.