Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1881-05-12
An Unexpected Request.

An Unexpected ntqucSt'
A bright fireside, with f. nder and fire
irons shining like gold, windows hung with
drapery of Turkey red, walls of crimson
flock paper, starred over with gold, and a
little walnut stand of books sopposite-Mrs.
Milford's parlor was cabinet gem in its
way. Not that the Milford's were rich.
On the contrary, Merton Milford was
bank clerk, on salary so small that it
sometimes became an almost insolvable
pro blem to make both ends meet.
Almost, we say, but never quite; for
Lucy Milford had learned the lesson OF
household economy, and it was her pride
to be able to say that they had never been
in debt. Yet Lucy had woman's taste
and woman's cravings after the beautiful
and the costly;and on this special evening"
as she sat by the fire leaning one cheek on
her hand, her foot mechanically agitating
the rocker of her baby's cradle, she was
thinking of the possible-the unattainable.
IF we were only rich.' thought Lucy as
she gazed across the room, how / would
like Persian patterned carpet, instead Of
this staring red and green ingram. And
little oil painting, or bunch of water
colored flowers over the table, where the
map of the city hangs now. And then l
could afford a Valenciennes cap for the
baby, and real ponson silk for myself,
and | could surprise Merton with half a
dozen silk handkerchiefs, and would send
papa a new meerschamn, real sea-foam,
with an amber mouth-piece and odd carv.
ings on the bowl, aud mamma should have
an Indian-bordered shawl, and
Bang went the front door. Tramp,
tramp, came well-known footstep along
the hall, with Just enough pause to fling
the hat carelesslv on the little circlet of
pegs, which In that unpretentious house
hold took the place of handicapped,
mirror backed hall rack.
Tt's Merton, said Mrs. Milford, starting
up; and Merton it was.
Halo, Puss,' said Merton, coming in,
flushed and breathless. And how is the
little kitten2'
kitty is WELL, said Mrs. Milford. Shall
l order tea, dear3'
Yes
The little maid-servant-Lucy Milford
only kept one-brought in the urn, and
when she had tip-toed out again. Mrs.
Milford lookedl her husband in the face
Merton, SAID she, something has hap
pened. can read it in yonr eyes. What
is lt2'
What little fortune-teller you are, to
be sure, SAID he. Yes, something has
happened. I've got a telegram from
Fortley, and old uncle Jesse is dying.
Uncle Jesse, the rich old miser. And
Writ informs me that his last will, made in
fit OF pique against the directors of the
Fortley Orphan Asylum, leaves everything
to u.s.
TO us, Merton2'
Lucy drew her breath with little gasp
ing sound.
why, it must be half million of
money!
That, at least. We shall be rich people,
Puss.'
oh Merton, it scarcely seems possible !
It's like dream
It's dream with pretty solid vein OF
reality running through it, you'll find, my
dear, said the husband.
'And just before you came in, was
sitting here and thinking what | would do,
and how would ornament my home il
only we were richl' cried Lucy, clapping
her hands.
MIR. Milford pinched her cheek, and
laughed complacently. Evidently he was
in the best of humor.
Half million, Lucyl' said he. You
shall have set of diamonds that will rival
those or Mrs. Merriwell, the banker wife,
and real ca hmere shawl And I'll order
a pony phaeton for your own driving, and
you
But we shall buy country place, shan't
we, Merton?' wIstfully asked Lucy, the
soft carmine shadows deepening over he1
cheek.
"A country place! What fcr?' said
Merton, little contemptuously. What on
earth should we bury ourselves in the
country for, when we can buy a place at
the West End, and surround ourselves with
all the refnements of city life2'
A shade of disappointment came over
Lucy's face.
oh, Merton, have always dreamed OF