The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1882-05-06
DOROTHY'S MATCHMAKING.

''I declare to goodness. Robert"
Miss Dorothy said. rubbing her nose
in way peculiar to her, II don't
know what you will do, unless you
get married yourself"
Robert Ackerman looked at his
sister in mild remonstrance as he said
gently:
"Marry I! You forget, Dorothy !"
Dorothy's face softened. Under the
daises. in the village cemetery, slept
a little blue eyed girl, who had been
Detrothed to her brother eighteen
long years before, and died one week
before the wedding-day.
sit is so long ago. she said.
"Yes," her brother said, signing; I;
.sand 7 Ian too cid to heginaBewlif
now. Forty-three in December, Dor
othy."
"Well," said Miss Dorothy, tartly,
81 am five years older. and l intend
to marry John Sanderson in three
months. Now, Robert" this very
coaxingly, "there is Martha Gaines"
He left the break fast table abruptly
as he spoke, and went to his study.
Miss Dorothy rubbed her nose vigor-
ously.
"Men are so unreasonable" she
thought. "Robert must have some
one to keep house for him when 60.
And Martha Gaines is the best house
keeper in Meadowville." .
The idea of Martha Gaines presid-
ing over the china closet and linen
chests that had been her life's de.
light, until Cupid came to win away
the old maids attention and affec.
ton, became more and more agree
able to Miss Dorothy as the morning
hours wore away.
"I'll just give Martha a hint" she
finally concluded: Anybody can
twist Robert round a finger if they
only half try"
1t was a speech founded upon long
experience, for Miss Dorothy had
ruled with undisputed sway over her
brother and his belongings for many
long years. They were people Of po-
sitiOn in MeadowVille. Their house
was large and well furnished in old
fashioned style. With good servants,
we'll trained under her own severe
discipline, ample means, and broth
er who never found fault, Miss Dor
othy's housekeeping had certainly
! few thorns.
But when she consented to become
the wife of the curate of Meadowyille,
the transfer of the power and privi
leges became weighty burden. But
one solution seemed possible. Her
brother must marry some steady,
middle-aged spinster, who would
keep up the prim nestness and the
hundred fussy details of Miss Dor
othy's domain.
Miss Martha Gaines, vinegar
faced, sharp. voiced woman, oflimited
means, and unlimited energy and
temper, proved to be smilingly will
ing to take Miss Dorothy's hints in
good part. Indeed, one word leading
to another, they arranged trousseau,
wedding and bridal tour before they
separated.
Ithad been very satisfactory after
noon to Miss Dorothy, and she came
home to tea in placid frame of mind.
1 Her brother, after lunch, had found
himself unequal to his usual after
moons reading, and strolled down a
shady lane in the direction of the
church. Was it his sisters sugges-
tion that SO brought back to his
memory the sweet baby face of the
young betrothed that he sought her
grave? ?--for of late years he had not
been very often to the secluded cor
ner where Susan Desmond slept, in
the shade of a great oak tree.
He walked slowly. musingly, his
eyes fixed on the ground. till he was
close to the grave. Then he looked
up, and reeled back as if he would
fall. Close to the grave, one little
hand resting on the marble head
stone, was girl of seventeen or eigh-
teen, dressed in white. with wide
straw hat that shaded Susie's long,
fair curls.
Robert Ackerman felt as if he had
lost his reason. His voice sounded
hoarse and strained as he askedtremb
lingly,-
"Who are you, child ?"
"I Iam Susan Desmond" said low,
sweet voice. ut is the name on the
stone here. That Susan Desmond was
my aunt, who died when l was a
baby. Papa thinks look like her. ("
The explanation was given with
child-like frankness and simplicity
1: l.