The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1882-01-26
MISS MoNTEAGLE's PLAN.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

accomplished in her way. we are not
much in the way of schools c. academies
here, but have been her instructor N.Y.
self, and she is thorough mathemati.
clan, an excellent musician and a lin.
guist of no mean capacity. We are
studying Hebrew now every day. she and
1, and she deyotes her evenings to com.
Greek She will be scholar, sir, if l
live to complete her education ?"
Slr. Crofton looked curiously q. the
oddly-assorted pair-ihe silver haired,
shabbily. .attired old gentleman, with his
bald forehead, eagle eye and delicately
white hands; and the darkbrowed, sui
len.looking girl, with the gypsy skin, un-
tidy frock and patched boots.
Pretty? Yes, she might be pretty un.
der some circumstances. The diamond
itself is not an attractive stone before
the lapidary's art has polished It's rude
angles into glittcring facets of white fire.
But she certainly possessed no sweet,
feminine graccs now.
"How old are you, Miss Monteagle ?"
be asked, finding it imperatiycly neces-
sary to say something.
And Mary Monteagle answered, in
words, Seventeen" while her looks re-
piled, plainly, None OF your business ~
"Go, my child, and gather some flow
efs to deck our humble board" said the
old gentleman, magniloquently. while he
conducted the son of his Oldest friend
into the tumble down old stone house,
where .hc carpets were moth. eaten, the
furniture miIdewed, and every trace Of
decayed gentiliiy told the sad story Of
better days.
Mrs. Monteagle, who had been q beau
ty once, and had had her portrait en-
grayed in Gallery Of American Rose
buds" was sitting up in state in q bat
tered boudoir, in black silk dress that
must have been quite q quarter OF cen
tury old, with flower in her silver
sprinkled hair, and still preserving the
giriish attitude in which the engraver's S
pencil had immortslized her. oddly con-
trasting with the sharpened outlines and
haggard abruptness of her sixty-odd
And this was the way in which the
old couple lived, in the dead past as it
were, Colonel Montcagie starving con-
tentedly on the recollection of his past
grandeur, and his wife fondly fancying
in which she WAS counted worthy to be
one of the American Roscbuds."
Mrs. Monteaglc swectly welcomed her
guest, aud touched the little hand bell at
her side.
eve will dine, sarepta," she said to
the maid.
please, ma am" breathlessly uttered
that young person, "there amt nothin
for dinner. We eat the last Of the cold
beef yesterday. and the dog he tipped
over the pan OF oysters, and"
"That will do, Sarepta," said SIrs.
Monteagle. with red spot mounting to
each of her check bones. II said-we
will diner
And Sarcpta withdrew with jerk
The dinner was served E.esently-an
instance Of the magnetic power of will J.
but there was no cold beef, neither were
there oysters, Fruit, thin, watery soup
Of herbs and parsicy, n tastefully-gar
and a dish Of peaches and cream. formed
the meal.
"Quite Arcadian !" said Mrs. Montea
gle, with giggle.
"And very badly served" secrctl!
commented Mr.. Crofton to himself
"But the salad was nice"
"Where is Mary y" the Colonel asked
Drinking in the beauties of the sun
set, presume" the lady answered, airi
ly.
.'The dear child has an artists soul
and we do not tie her down TO any hour.
or rules"
The Colonel fell asleep in his chair af
ter dinner; Mrs. Mcnteagle and he
painted fan withdrew themselves int
the boudoir-and Mr. Crofton, inwardll
bewailing himself that he had promiset
to stay q week at Montengle Manor
sauntered omt upon the heights whicl
overlooked the valley below.
L.
in the bushes, and the dark browed gyp
sy sprung up the hillside.
"You have fine place here, .'Iis
Monteagle," he said, by way of making
himself agreeable.
II hate it !" said Mary, darkly.
I-beg yonr pardon y exclaimed MI
Crofton, i'll amazement.
II do - flashed out the girl-"I hate
all The learning, and the purity, an'
the grand pretenses, and the miscrabl
makeshifts."
"But-"
"Ah Y. said Mary Monteagle "yo
don't know it all. You never heard tn
tradesmen bowling ut the back door
like pack Of bowling wolves; go
don't know that the house is advertise
for sale for tax arrears. How shoul
you9 How should You be aware tha
tuC very ClotuCS VIC NSat ABo uoL par
for, nor the Goals that cook our dinner
Papa smokes his cigars and talks abou
the Mexican war !; and mamma poses i
the great chair, aud dreams of embroid
cry work and tapestry stitch; aud L
am expected to learn Are.hic and San
scrit, and nobody knows what else, an
ignore our wretched poverty. But
can't! Who could"
Mr.. Crofton looked .pityingly at tn
girls sparkling eyes, and pale, excite
face.
~ am very sorry to hear this" said be
Scan nothing be dono7p
'Yes," said Miss Monteagle, brusque
ly. Something can be done-and ar
doing it, in so far as / can. But pap
and mamma must not be allowed to sus
pect it. / am-learning tradeW
"Youw he echoed. "a trade |"
''There's factory near by here" sh
said. calmly. "The country girls earn
little pocket money there, sewing o
shirts. i am to have machine as 500
as have learned to manage it.. / z
every evening, while papa fanaies / ar
Mt the Greek ana Latin. to. Farmer Pei
hams, whose Wife teaches me the use O
the machine. am learning housewors
too. / made the mayonnaise for you
salad to-day, and I baked the brcae
Our servant can do nothing of the sor
But it would kill mamma to think that
stopped, as she would call it, to menia
labor" gsfa
"You are quite right" said AIr. Gro
ton.
''Thas is what 1 wanted to know" sal