Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-07-22

] Sy S lace hidden near my neart, tOlO
them of all my fears for Daisy's increas-
ing vanity, my awful doubts about the
glitter of her beauty, and at last the dis
covery of the dreadful stain upon her cheek.
| expected TO see Tom fall back aghast.
thought that Daisy would sob the more,
and hid her face the closer. To my sur
prise, Tom blew long, low whistle, and
Daisy raised her head and looked at him.
There's no use talking, Tom; won t
go with it if it makes Prue feel so badly
| couldn't, Tom, if | made thousand
dollars night" This was what Daisy
said, and began strol1ing my hair and
fondling me again as if were the dis
eased and pitiable one. thought | should
90 mad with bewildcrment, when Tom
spoke again.
Nov see here, girls" he said, "no
more melancholy pumping, please; there 5
misery enough in the world, without 60
ing out of ones way to find it. The best
way to convince Pne that everything is
right is to let her see for herself. pro-
pose to take Prue down with us tonight. y
80 the-thc-' faltered Daisy.
ITO the insurance office said Tom.
"She can remain there, and watch us at
our work; and if, taking into considera-
ton the fact that we must earn an honest
living in some way, she finds this one al
together Objectionable, we'll let it slide
Now dry your tears and call it a bargain
Suspend further agony till tonight, and
in the meanwhile I'll 20 out and look at
my culinary venture" "
He went out and | heard him whistle
as he went 1t was very bewildering
that he should take so grave a matter in
that way.
"Is this the little girl, Daisy | said
solemnly, THAT has lain so many years at
my heart-my pure, innocent little sister, =
Yes, yes, Prudy, thousand times
vet, she cried. I'm n great deal hap
pier than ever | was, because can help
along with the rest
Then kissed her. and turned my tired
head to the pillow. was anly too glad
to take a brief and troubled respite. And
shortly after arose and dressed, and to-
wards evening Mrs. Balbriggan called to
tell me that Tom had asked her to 20
with me in the cvenidg.
did not like this foolish and fuSsy
woman as a witness to probable shame
or discontinue, but hadn't much time for
any further worry. Mrs. Balbriggan
finding it impossible to induce me to fix
what she called my front hair, devoted
her attentions to her own, and gave way
at times to an unseemliness Of mirth
which | thought sadly out of place; but
she had always been ridiculous old wo-
man. We got into the cab that Tom had
provided, and shortly went into what Tom
called the side entrance to the insurance
Office, and made our way into gaudy little
curtaiued stall, with lot of fddlcrs
twanging away within hands breadth.
O, the bitterness of that moment. Tom,
the lad that had loved and trusted, had
tricked me into coming to the theatre to
assuagc a misery that he could not under
stand or comfort, and had given me over
to the company of this crazy BaIbnggan
woman. who was already pulling upon
her pudsy hands a pair of yellow gloves
many sizes too small. My heart swclled
to bursting. | looked about me for 4
means of escape, but the play had al
ready begun and the stage was filed with
a motley crowd of women and sailors
One of these exchanged glance with
Mrs Balbriggan, siding up to the box,
and another of them followed her. Mrs
Balbriggan nudged me with her fan and
asked me if | had ever seen them before
And one of the poor creatures gigging
up in my face, | couldn't but see the
startling resemblance to Jane Balbriggan,
while the fat little tawdry thing by her
side was the image of her sister Susan.
Scarce recovering from this bewilderment,
saw that one of the sailors was John;
another poke of Mrs. Balbriggan's fan
drew my attention to fine, handsome
young officer, just striding upon the stage.
Before he began to sing knew It was
Tom and sank back in my seat.
"lt's quite family party, said Mrs.
Balbriggan. There's lots of EN- from
the choir in the Lutheran church" But
loud burst of music drowned her voice,
and before that awful Balbriggan began
logging me with her fan | knew the aw
full moment had come | suppose | was
fool. Other people might have been
prod of her beauty and her talent and
success, but the tears rained out of my
ewes: and she stood there in the big bon
net that only served to set off her lovely
face, and bowed to the gaping crowd, |
felt as many another wretched soul when
seeing dear one on the scafold. 1t was
all in vain; the glittering lights, the mel
ody and bewitchery, the brazen boldness
of the Balbriggans, and their mother
cool serenity. sat there pale and forlorn,
repeating to myself the lines of the scott
ing Byron:
Prom the rose you have shaken the tremulous
| dew.
From the grape you have pressed the soft inno'
cent blue"
1t was hard for the dear child, | know,
to come straight from the admiration and
applause of the multitude to the frantic
clutch and wild imploring of her poor
prude of a sister.
"It's only the 'Pinafore,' Prue," beg
ged Tom: "the purest, neatest, most en-