Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1882-03-16
q .. A. J.


Girls. I'll tell ycu what we will
de. It's . rainy evening. and no one
wall be likely to come, % we will have
Gcrisp. bright FIRE in the sitting room,
and close the shutters early and light
the lamps, and have q real old-fash-
ionsd evening, and get Aunt Dora TO
tell us story-I mean q real true
story-sOmething about her girlhood,
tor / know even our demure little
Aunt must, somewhere away back in
the past, have had soMe romance. some
lovera."
why, yes, Dora" spoke up Fan
ME (my little blonde sister), II saw
Aunt Dora with her jewel case yes
terday. came nnannounced in her
room, and she VISA sitting on the floor
with the contents Of her cabine. scat
tered about her. There was . pearl
necklace with a."
Stop. dear" said, laying q Eng
eT across the rose leaf lips. You must
not tell anything that you saw. Aunt
Dora would feel panied to know that
yon spoke Of this to Us, and my little
.sister miist not mention this again. $
s The wide, blue eyes filled with tears
at this soft reproach, and the sweet
mouth took on a pitiful quiver.
You shall share our evening en-
tertainnent. darling. If Aunt Dora
will consent to do as we saw"
Fannie was the youngest Of three Of
us. email and slender, with soft blue
eyes and q mobile mouth set amidst
smiles and dimples. She was slipping
into her seventeenth Summer. One
would not have thought il though.
She was 90 email for her years. /,
Dora. the eldest. aud Mikncnstte, the
sweet flower girl as we called her,
came between us. / was named for
my Aunt. / was always q favorits
with her. ! knew there was some
thing in reference to my being named
for her more than the claim of rela-
tionship, but ! aever knew what. I'll
admit | often wondered curiously what
it could be, and longed to know. That
is 9 birthright our dear old mother
Eve left us women--curiosity, you
know-but my lips were always ST.
lent on the ub. .eck.
just let me Iell you this" insisted
Fannie. 'Annt Dora was CRYING and
did 10 long to 90 to her and try to
comfort her, but you know, Dodie,
(thia her pet name for me) / don't be-
lieve she even saw me or was awsre
Of my proximity at ell; she was 90
absorbed in her surroundings.
WELL" said Mignonette, 1--WE will
do a. yoW say, Dora, and I'll work
on my Afghan, and perhaps ] Csa 6n-
ish it.
An hour later found the blinds
drawn in the little solth room of our
house and the red Goals glowing in
the open CRATE. Aunt Dora sat in
the little low rocker, with her feet on
= hassock. Mignonette and Fannie
were busy over their respective tasks,
viz., Afghan and toilet mats, and
sat near the little round table think
ing, with my face buried in nav hands.
A silence had fallen amongst us for
perhaps ten minutes. Aunt Dorn
leaned back against the hair cushion.
with her eyes closed and her hands
lying idly In her lap. She was state
Jy, distinguished looking woman,
lEhoss years were slipp:ng into tiffy,
haRisoms despite the threads Of gray
thaE atnaaksd her black hair, and che
larae. 7nskwions brown eyes were 6eau-
tiful sven get The long, black lashes
drooped oser tha colorless cheeks,
whoss Whitenens rivaled alabaster.
Aunt Dora. this il my birthday;
you know am tWanty-fosE-
'Are y0u, my dear
fea. and / want that you shsalA
tell - story. I will accept IL "a nv
birthday gift A real true story about
yonr girlhoOd. you know. end, Aan-
~, tell us why you never married.
skammered through thia, not lock-
ing at her till had finished, Cor the
white face before me made my heart
ache. / saw that the request had
panied her. but I knew she would tell
us. forsheseldom refused rs anything. "
''Children. your faces are 30 bright
I De no not care to cloud them, and
rehearsal az che story would only sad
den you. It has been carefully Sc
pplchersd for tWenty-fonr years. New
er once has il crossed the thrsshhoId
of nv isssa ONLY kka rnaxnopw ~vh<na
companionship has come to walk with
me day b. day. hour b. hour. But
tonight I'll reaurreot The past and
Gull from its grave the pitifuf ssory a
my early love and hopes. their des-
pair and death. You % not know,
children. that away back across ths
bridge of years that separate the pant
from the pEsseut. your Aunt was con-
nidered : beaatilnl woman, set With
al the gracss a high breeding, pos