Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-07-06
hut ysu need not be alarmed. Ny cos

but ysu need not be alarmed. NV cos
tune combines economy and splendor.
You will be dazzled, but not ruined"
perhaps some one else may be even
more dazzled than ~ say; and Nell
laughs and runs away, blushlng very
prcttily.
Ten minutes afterward there Is crash
and u shrek overhead. / hy up, four
steps at at a time, to find Nell living on
the floor beneath the ruins of ward
robe, which she has somehow managed
to pull over on herself. The wardrobe is
in such a state of universal smash that it
is very easy to clear away the wreck and
raise Nell in my arms. She opens her
ewes as lay her upon her bed, and asks,
family: ''What is it? Has the world
come to an end?'' s5a
"Not just yet" I reply; "but what
have you been doing?" a AS
Then her senses come back to her. and
she raises herself upon her right elbow.
ut was the wardrobe" she says II re-
member now The door stuck, and
was in hurry, and tried to jerk it open.
Then the whole thing seemed to lump at
me, and I was so frightened that I
screamed, and, l suppose, tainted. I'm
all right now, though, and there's moth
ing to hinder our starting"
"Look at your DRESS" is my only re-
ply.
Nell looks, and nearly faints again
for the lovely dress IS soilcd and torn be-
You'd all hope ofrestoration.
"It is better for your dress to be torn
than for your bones to be broken" say,
consolingly; but Nell shakes her head
in dubious dissent.
''Bones will grow together again, but
clothes WON'T" she says, ruef3lly. IF
you only knew the time and thought I
have spent on that dress, Cyril. It was
made out of three old ones, and cost alb
solutely nothing, except time and pains ;
yet it was fresh, and pretty, and becom-
ing. And my hat matched it precisely
straw-color and blue, you see; and Ohp'
cries Nell, as she catches sight of herself
in the glass.
have not had the heart to tell her
that the hat is an even more hopeless
wreck than the dress. Such a forlorn.
battered, MISUNDERSTANDING object it is,
with one wheat ear perking up loosely
over the left ear, ana one forget-me-not
dropping dejectedly over the right eve,
that even Nell herself is forced to laugh.
at is hopeless s1ghs Nell; and lust
then the whistle sounds and we realize
that the last chance of the picnic is over
"The end of an unlucky day. says Nell,
as the sun touches the horizon.
1t is not quite the end, though, for the
evening mail is still to come in. It brings
a paper for me and letter for Nell. both
OF which bear the same postmark. l
open the paper, while Nell is still study
Ing the direction of her letter, after the
manner OF all of us. The first thing up
on which my eye tails is a paragraph
around which some careful hand has
drawn broad black lines.
"Aunt Jane is dead!'' exclaim: and
then, as look at the date of the paper, l
add, "Buried too, by this time
Nell looks up with start.
Aunt Janen' she cries. "And my let
ter is from Lanny Blatchford, who lives
| next door to her.
She studies the direction no longer, but
tears the letter hastily open.
"Just what we might expect, coming
on this day. she says at last "Say what
you will, Cyril, it is an unlucky day
More than unlucky if your letter con-
tains the news that | suppose it does,'
say, gloomily.
How the dim years stretch away before
me as speak-the years that it will take
DIR. Castor to build up bis practice, the
years that it will take me to build ur
mine; and all the time the dear little
girl, of whom Nell knows nothing, wait
ing patiently in the shadows of the New
England hills! wrench myself away
from such thoughts with an effort, and
listen to what Nell has to say
| "Isn't it shame?" she is saving, when
l come to myself. eff we never loved
Aunt Jane, it was because she never gave
us chance; and if she never cared any
thing for us, at least We were her only
living relations. We could hardly have
expected her to remember us in her will
| suppose; but the least she could have
done, for the credit of the family, was tt
die without one. Tren we should have
had it in the course Of nature and law
But to go and leave it all to this man
''What man?" ask, for, as have said
my thoughts have been wandering while
Nell talked.
81 don't know Nell says, consulting
her letter again. ''Fanny does not men
ton his name; perhaps she did not know
it. They say that your aunt Miss Rum
sey, has left all her money to the son of {
man whom she Tilted when she was
young. No doubt she fattered hersel
that it was a touch of 'spoetic Justice,
but must say I think the plain prosaie
Justice of leaving it to her relations would
have been nearer the right thing OF
course it is all left to some Crrsus, t.
whom it will be but a drop in the bucket,
says Nell bitterly. "That's the way things
always go in this world, while we Oh
Cyril, why don't you say something? ISM
it too BAD, and ISN'T it an unlucky day?'
II suppose it is" I say modify. 81
confess | cannot see no Y we are to fnC
any good in this"
We spend our evening gloomily enough
in spite of our efforts to cheer up and for
get. I read little to Nell from dea]
old Flia, and we try game Of cribbage
of which Nell soon tires At nine O'CLOCK
we bid each other goodnight in shee1
despair.
We are little more cheerful over thu
breakfast table. Things can not lool
quite so bad by the mornings light az
| they did in the evenings shadows. Mel
laughs little as she ventures hop,
that to-day will not be such chain O
mlsadventures as yesterday proved, ane
forbear to rebuke ner. Bridget is bring
ing in the hot cakes in installments, anc
as she sets the plate containing the thirc
batch upon the table, we notice that she