The Canton advocate. [volume] (Canton, D.T. [S.D.]) 1877-1897, 1880-12-09
Isn't her name Benson-Kitty Ben

ables. The road was rough and dark
and the drive was exceedingly disa-
greeable. Mr.. Morton was glad to fall
back upon his memory and imagina.
ton for amusement The bit of in
terror he could recall wildly enough.
Kitty had been asleep for three hours
at least, and Joe Comstock had been
dreaming Of her under his patchwork
quilt, when Mr.. Morton reached the
city. 1t was long after midnight when
he got to the reception, and at least
one young heart had lost all zest in the
entertainm ent-two hearts, for an old
one in the vicinity had grown exceed
ingly heavy as the hours wore away.
''It's strange Morton don't come
Madeline" Mrs. Van Vleet said to her
daughter.
Eyes, mamma" said poor Madeline.
Didn't he say he would be here,
Madeline?'
"Oh, yes, mamma; please don't say
any more about it," and then the elder
ladywalked majcstically away, the feath-
ers upon her head nodding in mourn
fui unison with her thoughts. And at
that moment Mr.. Morton entered,
making his way to a group Of exquis-
itely dressed and beautiful women,
who received him with enthusiasm
there really were so very few available
parties that season, and Mr.. Morton
was so unexceptionable in every way,
and had shown some decided inclina-
ton to range HIMSELF and make some
body comfortable in their mind about
the wretchedly uncertain and procras-
tinating future. He wac still in the
market, though his attentions had been
rather pronounced of late to Miss Van
Vleet; but she was cold and reserved
and must take her chance-the tourna-
ment was open to all; SO all these beau
tiful women fluttered their fans, and in
their softly modulated musical voices
said charming things to the tardy arri-
VAL But Mr.. Morton, with many a
winning smile and whispered compli-
ment, went listlessly by. His face wore
that vacuous and bored expression
which is considered in society an evil
dence Of cultivation, but in truth it was
only that he was still absorbed in arts
tic reflections. He went on to the fur
Their end of the room, where in fever
ish, naughty, uncompromising but ago
nizing reserve sat Miss Van Nleet. Her
mother had nudged and frowned and
beckoned, all to no purpose, when Mr..
Morton entered the room.
"You can at least allow yourself to
be SEEN" said her mother, acrimoni-
ously.
'Ifhe wants me, he can find me, "
said Madeline, with sharp pang of
fear and distrust, which deepened when
at last he reached her side, and said, in
the most commonplace way in the
world
"Did you save that waltze for me?''
And when she looked up in his face
with a thrill of delight, and found no
response there, only that vague, list
less, dreamy expression, her own beau
tiful face grew almost haggard with the
intensity Of her emotion; it was all she
could do to keep the hot, wretched
tears out Of her eyes.
''Why are you so absent tonight
she said at last "What is it you are
thinking of" And then, as they were
whirling no, not whirling, but Ian
guidly stepping about--in the waltz,
he told her Of his accident, and DIES,
cribed to her infinitely the bit Of int
rior which had SO charmed him.
"And there is Sydney, now-you'n
excuse me, won't you, if | go over to
him %
Certainly she would excuse him.
What else could the poor girl do?
Mr.. Morton led Madeline to her
mother, and that ponderous female
eagerly whispered. "Has he spoken,
Madeline-onl y tell me dear, has he
'spoken?'
"Of course not, mamma; how could
be, in the waltz?'
"He was talking so earnestly. |
never saw him quite SO earnest before
l thought perhaps he had spoken"
He is talking just as earnestly with
Mr.. Sydney now, mama; he is inter
ested in art just now" The bitterness
in the voice of her daughter tinged
acridly the thoughts Of poor Mrs. Van
Vleet
81 shall not accept the colonies in
vitation for Thanksgiving" she said
dolefully. In the meanwhile Mr.. Nor.
ton was endeavoring generously tc
give his friend Sydney the subject fol
sketch and the artist was listening
with that quizzical, amused air that
was characteristic to him.
''See here, Norton" said Sydney at
last, "a horseshoe is a sign of good luck
and your steed shed one, it appears
at the door of this rustic beauty. ]
believe your heart followed it, Go in
and win, old fellow, and then send fol
me to paint her portrait. Pm not
much given to interiors"
Joe awoke the next morning and re-
solved once for all to make an end tC
these witcheries that half maddened as
they gladdened him. He would pluck
up courage and settle the matter. sc
that his dreams mi ght be savored with
sober certainty. He knew that no
great obstacles lay in his way His
folks were willing, and SO were hers;
there was nobody to say but Kitty her
self, and he wasn't much afraid Of that.
And if he'd only gone there and then
asked Kitty all might have been well;
but he must needs go home and don
his Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes for
the occasion, which took half the heart
out of his resolve, and in the mean
while a long limbed horse was making
quick work of the road that led to
Kitty's door, and a man who was easy
in his Sunday clothes every day in the
week was bent upon the same decision.
The stiff collar rasped Joe's neck rs he
went slowly to the village; his coat was
too tight in the sleeves; he grew redder
and redder, till he knew that the DOOM
ed Thanksgiving turkey gobbler's comb
was nothing to him; the
perspiration rolled from his
honest rubicund face, and he be-
gan to wish he'd find Kitty out when he
got there; he could talk to her mother,
and she could talk to Kitty, and it
would come kind Of easier somehow.
And suddenly he stepped aside; there
was rush of wheels in his ears, high
yellow wheels, and a vision Of some
body hailing him politely, somebody
with an easy way Of wearing good
clothes, and something about him that
world have Darsuadpd loo tO take off