Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1881-01-04
The Wedding DOWry.

The Wedding DOWry.
"Only one silk, and that not new
Dear me, dear me, it is dreadful !" and
Mrs. Grayson caught up the pretty bod
ice of the garment in question, and
gave it a shake. Kathie. bemming
ruff1es by the window, laughed.
"What can't be cured must be en-
dured there's no help for it, auntie," "
she said.
"Yes, there was help for it," cried the
lady, tossing the bodice from her, ''if
you had taken my advice; but you
must go and act like simpleton! The
idea of a girl of your age giving away
her hard earnings, and then getting
married without even decent change
OF clothing! I declare it is too absurd !!
And you are making good match, too.
Chs arley Montague comes of one of the
oest families in the country. He'll be
rich one of these days"
"At which time, let US hope, my
scanty wardrobe will be replenished,
said Kathie, merrily.
Her aunt frowned contemptuouay.
"But wna5 are you to do now?" she
went on. 'What do you think Mrs.
Montague, of Oallands, will think of
you when she sees your marriage outfit
Wait till she sees you in your shabby
garments"
"Shabby garmen,s ~ said Kathie,
opening her bright brown eyes. "My
garments are not shabby, auntie. I am
quite sure never looked shabby in my
whole life
Mrs. Grayson glanced at the trim,
graceful figure. The elise fitting blue
merinO was faultless the linen cuffs
and collars were as spotess as snow.
Kathie was right; she never did look
shabby.
Mrs. Grayson, Kathie's well to-do
aunt, witn daughters of her own, who
| trailed their silks in the dust, and tum-
| bled their plumes and laces, aad looked
| dowdy al the while, regarded the trim
little figure at the window with a half
admiring, half-sneering smile.
"Such,a simpleton as you havebeen,
said hereunt, latter tOiiing andteach-
ing for your money, to turn rouna and
give it away! 1 declare it puts me out
of temper to think of it,"
"What else could l do ?" the girl burst
out, psssionately. Gould I see pDor
George cottage sold over his head ald
| ne anu MS vile duU culluTSN turu6C ITO
the street"
"AssuredIy," answered the lady
coolly, 'he could have rented a house
easily enough. In your place, I should
have kept my money in my pocket; but
yon wouldn't listen to my advice. YOU
are sorry for it now, no doubt"
I ~ am not sorry. [ would do the same
thing again to morrow. Pm glad had
to ~ y, S,rl 70,
and [ don't care if [ do lock shabby"
"Veiy vell I shall not try to care
either. l shan't help you; I told you
that in the beginning. I can't afford it
and even if l could / should not feel il
my duty. You would be headstrong
and senseless, you must bear the conse-
quence. I'll give you some lace for YOU
neck and sleeves, and you may veal
that garnet set of Josephine's."
"I don't want any lace-I've some
that belonged to mamma; and
wouldn't wear Josephiue's garnets fol
anything"
"Oh, very well! don't snap my heaC
Off [ beg; you needn't wear them
| Much thanks one gets for trying to as
sist you! You won't wear my hal
either, [ suppOse-how about that 2"
II have plenty of trimming; l shal
trim that light felt l wore last winter. ,
"And your jacket? where's that tC
come from, pray?
"Kathie's tears were gone =; her brown
eyes flashed like stars.
Il intend to make myself a Jacket O
grandfather's old Overcoat,n ~ she replied
| Kathie then threw aside her ruff1es
ard going to the clothes press brough
out the old coat.
| 1.-The material is very fine," she said
land this rich, old fashioned fur will
cut into nice strips for trimming; [ cal
make handsome Jacket out of it, anC
think" she added, softly, "grandpap.
would like me to have it if he knew
"Grahdpapa, indeed echoed Mrs
GraysOn. IL should think you'd hav,
but little respect for his memory afte
the manner he treated you; never leav
ing you penny, after you nursed hin
and shaved for him as you did"
II think he intended to leave m
something," said Kathie. ''I know h.
did; but he died so suddenly, and ther
was some mistake"
ooh, nonsense, would not give fl,
| for good Intentions! He had lots O
money-everybody knows that, 1t ha
all gone to that scapegrace Dugald, an,
you haven't shilling for your weddin,
dowry."
Charlie won't mind that.n sal,
Kathie, her cheeks blooming like rose
She took the old coat and crossing t.
the window, began to rip the closel
stitciuu seams, her pretty fresh fac
looking sad and downcast. Aunt Gray
sons worldly-wise talk had put her ou
of heart.
All her life she had been such brav
sweet little soul. Left an orphan early
she had lived with her grandfather. an
made his last days bright.
YOU'RE dear child, Kathie; bye
and bye, when you think of being
bride, will give you wedding dowry.
He had said so a dozen times, vel
after his sudden death, one midwinte
night, there was no mention of Kathi
found in his will, and everything wen
to Dugald, the son of a second ma.
rage
Kathle did not complain but it CT
her to the heart to think grandpapa ha
forgotten her. She tried not to believ
1t; there was some mistake
And when Dugald sold out the oil
homestead and went off, she gathere
up ali the old souvenirs and took care
them. The old fur.trimmed overcoa
was one.
Then, lodging at her aunt's, she taugf
the village children, and saved up he
earnings for her wedding day; fC
Charles Montague loved her and ha
asked her TO be his wife.
The wedding-day was appointed, an
she was beginning, with hutterin
heart, to think about making her pu
ehases, when her brother George fell III
and worse, fell into trouble. He wa