The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1882-01-07

tween these two high functionaries was
| difficult at times. As to Victor, he
= never seemed to heed Bridget at H. A
shrug of the shoulders, or, ut most, a
glance of unutterable disdan, was the
utmost notice that he took of her.
The day after the Thanksgiving din
ner my aunt came to my room, where l
was resting, after the packing of the
silver.
"Only think, Lizzie" she said, "here
has Bridget gone and fallen i'll to-day,
of all the days in the year, when, as you
! know, Sarah and Susan have both gone
down to New York to be present at their
sisters wedding. There isn't soul in
the house to do anything except Vic
| tor"
Bridget i'll? Why, what can be the
matterP"
Goodness knows, child. She was as
well as possible this morning; but just
now she came to me and said that she
had such 'whirling in her head, and
such trimlin' in her legs, that she just
had to go up to her room and lie down
1t seems that Victor, who is a good soul,
thought her looking rather badly this
morning, and gave her some of his
| BlllllC ohloS DllbttSs bNiu olllNC NbhiliS
the dose. she has gotten rather worse
than better"
Just then Victor's discreet tap was
heard at the door; and on being hidden
to come in he entered, civil and obse-
quious as usual.
eff madame will permit me-" he
said, 81 will take charge of all things
for day or two. The maids will be
back tomorrow evening; and as for
mistress Bridget, she has but migrdine
"a sickness of the bile; she will be all
right in a day or two. If madame will
tell me what she would like for dinner
/ shall get it ready for her."
ooh, thanks, thanks said my aunt.
81 really didn't like to ask you; but
since YOU offer"
with pleasure" retorted Victor.
And now | will go and see about din
ner'
The short balance of the afternoon
we spent in the library together over
the fire. l confess that | nodded more
than once over my book; for was tired
with the days work, and l suspect that
my aunt was just as bad. Anyway, it
was something of a surprise to us both
when we were summoned to dress for
dinner-a ceremony that Aunt Mus
grove seldom or never omitted, but
which she seemed inclined to shirk for
once on that particular evening.
(" 1 shall not go upstairs, 1 think.
No, Victor you need not take light to
my dressing-room. You can come and
call me whenever dinner is ready"
! We reopened our novels again; and 1
was speedily absorbed in mine. But
my aunt began to fdget, being now
thoroughly aroused from her drowsi-
ness; and at last she declared that she
must go upstairs and wash her hands,
and put on a clean collar and cuffs, if
she did nothing more. r.
mo need for your disturbing your
self, child" she added.
1 (" Shall call Victor to bring you
light, aunt?"
"No. l always keep a candle and
matches on my dressing-table. And
off she went, with as light and active
step as though her years had been six
teen instead of over sixty.
She was gone for some little time. In
fact, dinner was. announced, and the
soup was waiting to be put on the table
when she came hurrying into the dining
room.
"Br-r-r-r," she said, with SILVER,
rubbing her hands together as she
spoke, how cold it is in my dressing
room. One feels it the more after sit
ting so long over that nice, warm fire,
in the library. hope that the soup is
quite hot | declare, am half frozen"
She really seemed so. / could see
that shudder, now and then, passed
over her, as though she were shaken by
some inexpressible chill. The soup,
however, seemed to reanimate her. and
she soon ohatted away in as lively
strain as usual.
Victor had achieved wonders in re-
gard to the dinner A delicious, clear
soup, some cold salmon with mayon-
naise sauce, and a delicate salmi of
chicken, with truffles, succeeded each
other in turn, and were warmly praised,
especially by my aunt When the meal
was about half concluded my aunt said,
suddenly, laying down her fork:
Il declare, l had almost forgotten
about my letter, Lizzie. You have
heard me speak of my niece, Caroline
West-my sister Margaret's daughter
who lives in Albany-the Queen of Dia-
iuoliio, rs uScu W Cdll ucrE
Eyes, aunt, often"
"Well," continued my aunt, drawing
a letter bearing the Albany postmark,
from her pocket, "when | went up
stairs, just now, CHANGED to remember
that Bridget had brought me up two
letters this morning, and that had put
them in the pocket of my dressing-gown
without reading them. Afterwards, |
was so busy with the silver, and fus-