St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-09-30
PheIna'S Way.
BY ROSE TERRY COOK.

ou are very silly, Euphemla."
~ dare say you don't think me very
wise, mamma but a person can't be
convicted of extreme Stiffness on one
COUNT
"Let the matter drop, my dear, if
you please. We won't argue it. You
have consented to wait until Septem-
Der before final decision, and the thing
is too disagreeable for discussion" Mrs.
Bayard drew her shawl gracefully
about her and left the room.
If ever anybody was "bOrn to the
purple" in this republican country,
Euphemia Bayard had been. Her IA
ther belonged to one of the oldest fami-
lies and her mother counted Dutch an
cestors back to the time when the
stOlid nation ''tOOk Holland" The
Vandeveers had been rich before Mrs.
Bayard's time. She was the seventh
daughter of ninth son, and the fami-
ly wealth would not bear such infini-
tesimal division as this, for all the nine
sons had their own families, and
million will fade fast under division
and subdivision. She married Mr..
Bayard because he had position and
money, and why he had married her
nobody knew. Perhaps he did not.
She was sallOw, skinny, green-eyed,
dull-haired and cold -blooded as fish
graceful and stylish, it is true, but, to
travesty an old quotation. "Look in
her face, and you forget ALL" Mr.. Bay
ard was Il handsome, genial, prosper
Gus young fellow when they were mar
ried, and Euphemia, their only child,
was tended and educated like prin
cess. Velvet and valenciennes, swans
down and linen cambria were scarcely
good enough to lap her tiny, lovely
shape, and two nurses combined with
her mother to spoil her utterly; but
she inherited from her father keen
sense, quick perception, humor and
generosity and deep. feeling. Those
went far to atone for the high temper,
the educated selfishness and the wiiful
disposition of Miss Phema.
1t would have been better for her if
her father had lived, but at six years
old she lost him. He was killed in
stantly by Il fall from too spirited
horse which he was trying, and Phema
only had a childish memory left.
She grew up under the most eXpen
sive governesses and the mostfashiOna
BILE finishing schools, petted and ad-
mired, pampered with every luxury,
and her vanity fed and fostered every
hour. That she had her own way was
foregone conclusion; but her charac-
ter was SO strong that it asserted it
self even in its wilfulness, and "Phe-
mas way" was proverbial, both at
home and at school.
At eighteen she came out in society,
beautiful, accomplished and head
strong. Mrs. Bayard had spent all
these years since her husbands death
in recklessly extravagant life, and
now to her great surprise, found that
her property was deprecated and her
income suddenly lessened. She repair
ed at once to her husbands lawyer,
and, having learned the full state of
the case, determined, entirely against
his advice, to sell everything she own
ed and buy an annuity. In vain old
Mr.. Paine represented to her that this
would utterly impOverish her daugh-
ter, in case of her own death.
81 cannot help that" she replied,
with "A cool seltishness that chilled him.
81 can never live, nor can,Phema, with
| out our accustomed luXuries. She
must marry well; and she cannot do
that without an entrance of the right
sort into society. | trust she will not
need much more. | think not" And
Mrs. Bayard's green eyes flashed with
pride that might be called maternal,
but did not deserve so sacred name.
So she bought a handsome annuity,
without consulting or even informing
Euphemia, the property having all
been left in her hands, and then gave
the young lady triumphant introduc-
ton into society.
But scarcely had she appeared upon
the stage, when Mrs. Bayard's mother
died, and, since Phema must be with
drawn at once from the scene of hel
glOries, Mrs. Bayard resolved to send
her for the early part of the summer
out to DesborOugh a country town OF
some Importance high among the Mass
achusetts hills, Here, under the wing
of an old aunt of Mr.. Bayard, she would
not be seen too much to make her fu
ture debut stale and Improbable, ant
she would acquire freshness of com
plexiOn that boarding school up a
Easter, and IA fortnight of balls direct
ly after, had a good deal impaired.
Aunt Allen was a clergyman's widow
a lovely, gentle old lady, living in ;
square white house, set in its grassy
yard like flower on a leaf, and canO
pied with dropping elms. Phema wai
charmed. Her city elegancies and af
fections fell back like calyx from ;
rosebud, and she delighted her aun
!, Allen by her keen enjoyment, he
common sense, her desire to learn al
wholesome country ways, and her un
affected interest in everything.
Nobody in DesbOrOugh knew NOR,
of the pretty Miss Bayard than the fac
: that she was Mrs. Aliens niece, and
as she laid away the finery her mothe
! and maid had packed into her trunk
|. and contented herself with gowns O
5 delicate lawn and printed cambric
} with now and then a white dress 70
t Sundays, and nobody there knew
enough to recognize the hand of tn
! artist in the exquisite simplicity o
I these garments, or to know that tn
I little chip hat, with its gold buckle an,
r floating feather was really fresh from
Paris, she was not suspected of beini
rich or fashionable /; and, being yer
t pretty, merry and good natured, sh
: soon made friends in DesborOugh, and
moreover, carried away captive tb