The Florida agriculturist. [volume] (DeLand, Fla.) 1878-1911, 1882-02-01


down to any hours or rules"
The colonel fell asleep in his chair
after dinner, Mrs. Monteagle and
her painted tan withdrew themselves
into the boudior-and Mr.. Croiton,
inwardly bewailing himself that lie
had promised to stay week at Mon
teagle Manor, sauntered ont upon
the heights which overlooked the
valley below.
AS he stood there, a rustling
sounded in the bushes, and the dark
proved gypsy sprang up the hillside
"You have fine place here, Miss
Monteagle," he said, by way Of makS
ing himself agreeable.
Il hate i'll" said Mary, darkly.
"I-beg your pardon!" exclaimed
MIR. Crofton, in amusement.
II do !" flashed out the girl-I
hate it all /! The learning, and the
purity, and the grand pretenses, and
the miserable makeshitts.'
"But-"
"Ah !" said Mary Monteagle, "you
don't know it all. You never heard
the tradesmen bowling at the back
doors like pack of bowling wolves,
you don't know that the house is adj
vertised for sale for tax arrears. How
should you? How should you be a
ware that the very clothes we wear
are not paid tor, nor the Goals that
cook our dinner? Papa SMOKES his CT
CARS and talks about the Mexican
war; and mamma poses in ;he great
chair, and dreams OF embroidery
work and tapestry stitch; and II
am expected to learn Arabic and San
scrlt, and no body knows what else,
and ignore our wretched poverty.
But l can't who could?"
Mr. Crotton looked pityingly at the
girls sparkling eyes, and pale, eAcl~
ted face.
81 am very sorry to hear this, said
he. "Can nothing be done?"
eyes," said Miss Monteagle; brus~
quely. "Something can be done
and am doing it, in so tar as / can.
But papa and mamma must not be. al.
lowed to suspect it. am--learning
a trade!'
"You p he echoed. IA trade
'There'S a factory near by here"
she said, calmly. "The country girls
earn little pocket money there sew
ing on shirts. l am to have mas
chine as soon as 1 have learned TO
manage it. l go every evening,
while papa fancies | am at the Greek
and Latin, to farmer Pelham's, whose
wife teaches me the use OF the mas
chine. l am learning Homework, too.
/ made the mayonnaise tor your sal~
adj to-day, and i baked the bread.
Our servant can do nothing OF the
sort. But it would kill mamma to
think that stopped, as she would
call it, to mental labor"
"You are quite right" said Mr..
Crotton.
"That is what l wanted to know"
said Mary, hastily because, living
here all by myself, in such a strange
unnatural atmosphere, | sometimes
get confused, and scarcely know right
from wrong.
:'But they will have to know it,
when"
"When l really go into the taclo-
ry," said Mary. Eyes, l know that.
But until then, 1 would tain spare
them the pang. am to have a dol-
lar day, Mrs. Pelham says, if | OPP
crate the machine sklllfully. And a
dollar a day will buy mamma many Il
little luxury, and go far toward pay
ing the grocer and the baker"
"You are a noble girl" said Mr..
Crotton, warmly ana i'll his eye, at
that moment. Mary Monteaglc was
glorifed with rare beauty. as she
STOOL there, the fresh wind blowing
her jetty curs about, the reflection
OF orange sunset deepening the COL
or on her cheek, and the grave tar~a>
way sparkle of her eyes, half-veiled
beneath the long lashes. "And If 1
could be OF any assistance TO you III
this task"
You can," talk the girl, abruptly.
"You can stay here aAd amuse papa,
so that he shall not suspect what oc>
cupieS my time. You can divert his
attention from Sanscrit aud Arabic,
aud all these mysteries"
And, for the first time in his expe-
rience OF her. Mary Monteagle
laughed-a mellow, bird-hke laugh.
Il WILL" said Mr.. Croiton, heartily
And SO the compact was sealed be-
tween them.
Instead Ot the week he had nrom.