Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1882-09-09

MARTINsBURG, W. VA, sATUI)A !. SEPT 9, 1882


ma had said and for once ii her life
gave that venerable old lady credit
lfof discrimination. fs'ss ~ i
There was 10 help for L, however.
She tied on the bib-apron, tucked
the 'curls back Of her ears and went
to work to prepare the chickens for
the roasting pan, now anu then
pausing to brush aaway the round,
bright tears which rolled down her
cheeks. :sx M ysss sf
These young ladies evidently in
tended making her useful. She
might have known that they did be-
forehand. She could hear the sweet
sound of Bell Calhoun's guitar; the
1sweet, subdued tinkle of Alice's
laughter; the deep monotonous I'M
dercurrent Of gentlemen's voices ;
and then she glanced down at her
pretty muslin dress and bows of pink
ribbon and began to think that Miss
Calhoun had taken an unfair advan-
tage Of her.
If she could only have heard the
rapid and energetic coIloquy which
transpired between the two sisters
in their dressing-room when Alice
first came up stair she would per
haps have better comprehended the
drift of things.
Good news! Miss Calhoun had
cried, waving her scented pocket
handkerchief in the air. I've got a
girl in the kitchen.
Mol said Miss Bell, fair-haired
cream complicated damsel, with pale
blue eyes and perpetual smile.
Rachel Ramsay, nodded Alice,
come up here in her best bib and
tucker to spend the day. OF course
l confiscated her at once.
The bold pushing thing! said
Bell, with a disdainful gesture.
She's a deal too pretty to bring
into the drawing-room, for Harold
son and Armie Dallas to flirt with,
added Miss Alice, knowingly. And
l don't know any way that / could
have avoided it if it hadn't been for
those chickens and Bridget's fortu-
nate fit of temper. Make haste,
now. They'll be here in minute.
And / know little Rachel is a first
class cook for I've been there to tea.
So the young ladies of the Tower
were enjoying tue. feast of reason
and the flow of soul in their cool
drawing-room, with books, new gath
cred roses and blue-ribhoned guitars,
while poor Rachel Ramsay was broil-
iag in the kitchen over peach tarts
and Neapolitan creams.
She had not forgotten her disap-
pointment; but artist-like, she had
thrown herself into her occupation
with engrossing interest, and she
was stirring the creams with a quick,
energetic hand, when step crossed
the threshold.
Here aresome fresh trout, Bridget,
to surprise your mistress, said a clear
voice.
And to her infinite amazement
Haroldson stood before her in his
hunting costume, with fishing rod
lightly balanced on his shoulder.
I'm not Bridget, said the girl,
laughing, but still stirring ON. Pm
Rachel. sa
Miss Ramsay! he exclaimed lift
ing his cap. How in the name of
all that is wonderful came You here.
And then not without humor, Ra-
clel detailed the manner and incl
dents Of her capture.
/ am the maid-of-all-work, if you
please, she said, with acourtesy.
Then let me help you, said Mr..
Haroldson, briskly tying a bib,apron
around his hunting suit. used to be
a pretty good hand at spider and
gridiron when I camped out on Lake
Cupsuptic up in Maine.
But you are not engaged, said Ra-
chel, halfpleased, half-frightened.
/ can volunteer, observed the
young man. Give me the oil and
vinegar, and you will see what a
dressing Ia mayonnaise I can pro-
vide for that salad Of yours.
And if ever a pair Of cooks spent
a delightful, unconventional sort Of
morning in the kitchen this pair did.
They laughed, they made mno-
cent jokes, they behaved like two
school children.
And at last when Rachel had run
out into the garden to gather some
water crosses to deck the newly
roasted fowls, Mr.. Haroldson heard
the voice Of Miss Bell Calhoun cali.
ing down the stairway:
Rachell Rachel! son may serve
the dinner. Every one is here but
that tiresome Haroldson
And he's here, too, calmly respond
ed that gentleman, who was wash
| inc his hands at thn numnl