The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1880-12-23

Tonight, however, rs he went along,
his mothers words gave him little
thought, and it did occur to him that
it was unwise to let himself become so
used to all this splendor and luxury on
. venture; for, after all, q girl of such
wealth and fascination as Miss Barnes
had her choice from a crowd of lovers,
Of whom he was but one and the least
conspicuous. just as these salutary
reflections stole through his mind his
ear was caught by the crying of q
child. and he paused to look into the
window of the cottage that he was
passing, and to see q woman hushing q
little child, whose face was now hidden
in her neck-a slender, darkly-clad
woman, who moved here and there.
with the baby ON her arm, and attended
to the wants of o parcel of other chill
dren. while q man sat at the table, with
his arms thrust out straight before him
and his head fallen between them, in
an attitude of abject despair. The
woman's back was toward him all the
time; but something about her remind
ed him of Nina Prentice. pretty
much what 1 might expect, suppose"
groaned Harold, ''if obeyed my moth
er." "By Georger' as the woman half
turned. sweet, fair, sad face, and del
icate profile of figure, ~ believe it is
Ninar'
But its absurdity destroyed the fancy,
and he went on his way whistling a
bar or two of the "Wanderer," and
would have been very shortly with Miss
Barnes, had he not been detained by a
discussion with a chance friend at a
corner; and had not then stepped into
. pool of water, and been obliged to
hunt up a boot black. the little wretch
afterward keeping him waiting for his
change.
"I declare" said he to Nina, when
at last he reached Miss Barnes's parlors,
81 thought / saw you married to a
drunken laborer, as l came along to-
night, with q gang of babies Chamber
ing round'-
"What made you think him drunk
emp" asked Nina, with her sweet seri-
BUSINESS.
"Oh! the looks of him-the arms on
the table, the fallen head. unkempt,
unshorn, you know, and all the rest. :"
"I suppose" said Nina, "that poor
man, whose wife lay dead in the other
room, might look much that way"
"I believe it was your cried Harold.
"Do look like it?' she asked, light
ly. "And have q dual existence, to
be here and there, tooP" And then, as
Harold glanced her over, in her airy
muslins and forget-me-nots, he smiled
at the idea; and she seemed all at once
as different from that woman, and from
all other women, as if she had stepped
out of another star. Yet, for all that,
q man does not care to marry q woman
who is different from all other women
simply to oblige his mother.
"What are you two talking aboutP'
asked Miss Barnes, standing before
them justthen, the picture of Bac-
chante, with her head bound with cur
rant leaves and her clustering curls like
grape-bunches about her dark and
laughing face. "Are you promising
Nina that you will come to Washington
this winter? Nina is to be with me
there for the holidays, you know. If
you should, swell my list on New
Years." And then she went dancing
down the room, for the misty night had
driven everybody within doors; and a
waiter was just bringing in q tray of
of their drowned fruits and leaves and
long golden straws.
"When 1 was a little confirmed
drunkard of the age of ten signed the
pledge" said Miss Barnes. conveying
the waiter to Harold. ..But I didns t
know how nice juleps were. Now /
am totally depraved. Here, Mr.. Hart
ley. Nina! It's quite as immoral to
drink lemonade with straws, as mint
juleps. The sin lies altogether in the
strawsr'
"It depends on the individual wheth-
er there is any sin about it, I think, -
said Nina "But love lemonade. A
lemon seems to carry GOODNESS into the
tropics"
.sAnd you don't know why you
should burn your throat-that long,
white throat-out with the other? Get
thee to a nunneryr' As the gay girl
lifted her glowing glass to the wax
lights, Harold whispered to Nina, al
don't believe the Bacchantes used
straws," and was astonisbed that Nina
did not laugh. But that night the faces
of the two girls kept shining upon him
out of the darkness, rs he walked home.
The one the self-indulgent, laughing
beauty; the other, if not beautiful, YET
certainly lovely face in its fairness and
perfect calm. And the girl lifting her
glass to the glow of the wax-lights did
not seem to him SO charming as be-
fore.
"Do you know" said Mr.. Hartley's
mother, one twilight, some time after
ward, I'm afraid I have been doing
an Injustice to Miss Barnes? She really
has q heart. Those poor McNultys!
When Mrs. McNulty died. she used to
60 down there every evening, and car.
~ q supper, and hear the children
prayers, and put them to bed, and
leave breakfast set out for the father
in the morning. just think of that girl
doing such things!"
Ibid she tell you that she did,
mother?' asked Harold.
| "Well, no. That is, not exactly.
heard that one of the Hill ladies was
down at the McNultys, doing these
things, and spoke of it incidentally te
Miss Barnes; and she asked me to say
nothing about it, and said she only die
what she couldn't help doing; anG
when / said thought it q great deal fol
her to leave all her gay life every sun
set. and go down there. night after
night, and wait on that family, ant
then hurry home to her houseful o
company. she colored up so prettily,
was duty and pleasure, too, to do what
she could"
"Humph!' said Harold Hartley. H,
knew very well now who il was that b,
saw through the window of the McNul
| ty cottage. But. after all. pretty fac'
covers q multitude of sins. He Sc
about forgetting the deceit; hereasonet
that it was q girlish jest, signifyins
nothing; and he went to Washington al
the same, shortly after the Holiday sea
ovrsxo1 ond nrosonfod Al