Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1881-12-08

Sally, were up at lWenty-nftn St. (;
it's an hours journey. I've mind to
keep on forgetting it. :"
THAT won't do. There'd be ill-fsel
ing, said Sally.
So we carried our bundles into the
stage that seemed to us to go nearest to
Maiden Lane, and off we went.
Nothing happened to us until we got
to Maiden Lane, and found the number
and Emma Prinker's brother.
He was crossish-looking man, and
when we mentioned the box he said
Emma wanted | should fetch il up
for her-but | struck. / amt an ex-
press; if / was I'd charge for it. 1t
isn't here. / sent the man over with it
to Cudlip and Curriers', three doors
from the depot; thought she could take
it up herself when she came down"
He hadn't asked us to sit down, so we
stood, and now he walked off without II
word more.
So away we went up to the depot, and
there, to be sure, was Cudlip's and Cur
rier's, and in we walked, and said to a
young clerk sitting on a box:
"Will you please let us have the hat
box that was sent here by Miss Prink-
er's brother?"
"a what? an ash-box?" asked the
young clerk.
"Hat," said |,
SEQ and see if there's hat here for
anybody, saio the clerk to little boy.
And he went away, and came back
and said there wasn't.
But pretty soon there came along a
real prettily spoken nice young man, and
after we'd explained, he went and in
quired.
And he came back and said there was
box with Emma Prinker on it.
So we thanked him, and he went and
brought it.
1t was great square thing, made of
pinewood, with two iron handles and a
big paddock, and marked with great
black letters, Emma Prinker.
looked at Sally and she looked Mt
me.
"You didn't expect such large box,
did you, ladies?" said the polite young
gentleman.
So l said we didn't. and thanked him.
And then we piled our parcels on top of
it and each took handle and walked
off with it.
We hadn't had a bit of anything to
eat since four that morning, and we ran
straight to the restaurant and sat down
to table.
We ordered some sandwiches and
some iced tea and some cream-and it
was just put on the table before us when
whang went the great hell, and Last
train for Dillytown" screamed the man
at the gate.
Cant stop to eat" said |.
"Pay for it anyhow, ma'am, " said the
waiter.
So we paid-and flew.
We hardly got on the trainin time as
1t WIS, ON account III tnaU pesKy nHt-UUA
of Emma Plinker's, which we had TO
send as freight, and being so dead tired,
and missing the stage, We had TO hire a
wagon to take us home.
Sally paid for us, for though | wanted
to l found I'd had my pocket picked,
where or how | never could guess.
About ten o'clock we got home.
Everybody had gone to bed, and uncle
said 1t WASH Seemly Ior glTlS 10 stay
out to such an hour, when he let us In,
and aunt called downstairs that 'when
she was young women that were always
gadding weren't thought much of" and
we hunted up little shortcake and
some milk, and took it up to our room
and Sally cried, but what / said was
what Mr.. Prinker said to me
81 amt an express, if | was I'd charge
for it"
And 1 made up my mind what TO do
next time.
But Sally and don't talk much, and
nobody knows what sort of an outing
we had, and we're spoken of IN the
family and out of it as very gay young
women, who were always going to New
York to enjoy ourselves. Ii we ever go
again we will.