The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1882-06-16
.ist yoa. You uwon,t wear any hat either

l suppose.
"I have plenty of trimmings; I shal
trim that light felt wore last winter
''And your jacket? Where's that {,
come from, pray? ?"
4 Kathie's tears were gone, and he
brown eyes flashed like stars as sh
answered, 81 intend to make myself
jacket of grandfather's coat.
Her aunt threw back her head anC
laughed boisterously, as she went on
s' Grandfather's old coat oh, that il
| too good. What would Mrs. Montague
say to that? Kathie, child, what goose
you are 70
Kathie threw aside her ruffles, anC
going to the clothes-press, brought ou
the old coat.
seThe material is very fine, !" she said
"and this rich, old-fashioned fur viii
cut into nice strips for trimming. Oh.
am sure that can make handsome
Jacket cut of it, and thinlx. !" aeteeui
softly, "grandpapa would like to have
me have it, if he knew"
Grandpapa, indeed ~ echoed Mrs.
Grayson. 81 should think you'd have
but little respect for his memory, after
! the manner he treated you in never
leaving you penny after having nursed
him and shaved for him night and day
for al those years +"
s'I have no doubt he intended to leave
me something, said Kathie. 81 know
he did; but he died so suddenly, and Put
off alternating his will until it was impos-
sible to do So"
Oh, nonsensei wouldn't give fig
for good intentionsi He had lots of
money-everybody knows that; it has all
| gone to that seapegrace, Dugald, and
leaving you without a shilling for your
wedding dowry."
"Charlie won't miud that" said
Kathie, her checks blooming like rose.
"Won't he? Don't tell me, child
Every one thought you would be old
Tom Rowland's heiress when You found
Mr.. Montague. Ten to one he'd never
have given you n second thought but
for that Now, that he's disappointed.
he's too much of man to back out, of
course, but he feels it all the same.
Don't tell me, know men better than
you" &E sA
Kathie uttered no word in answer.
She took the old coat, and, crossing 10
the window, sat down to rip it apart.
Her wedding day was drawing near, and
there was no time to lose. Mrs. Gray
son settled herself on the lounge for an
afternoon nap; the big Maltese cat pur-
red on the rug; the canary ehirped lazily.
in her cage; and, without, above the
waving line of the wooded ridge, the
December sunset glowed.
Kathie began to rip the strong, closely
stitched seams, her pretty, fresh face
looking sad, but not hopeless. Aunt
Grayson's world-wise talk had somewhat
hurt her from its unkindness, or rather
heartlessness.
All her life she had been such brave,
sweet little soul. Left an orphan early,
she had lived with her grandfather, and
made his last days bright. He said TO
her more than once You're a dear
child, Kathie by-and-by, when yov
think of being a bride, I'll give you a
wedding dowry."
Yet, after his sudden death one mid
winter night there was no mention of
kathie found in the will, and everything
went to Dugald, the son of a second
marriage.
Kathie did not complain, but it cut
her to the heart to think that after all
she had been utterly forgotten. She
tried to believe that there was some mis-
take, but it was very hard to do so.
And when Dugald sold out the old
homestead, gathered up the funds and
went off to America, she gathered up all
the souvenirs and took care of them.
The old fur trimmed overcoat was one.
and this was distinguished from all the
rest by having card appended to 1t, on
which was her full name.
Then boarding at her aunt's, she
taught the village children, and saved
up her earnings for her marriage-day,
for Charles Montague had asked her to
be his wife.
The wedding-da was appointed, and
Kathie was beginning with a futtering
heart to think about making her pur-
chases, when her brother George fell i'll;
and worse, got into trouble. He was
rather q thriftless man and had been
his little home was
and unless the debt could be
repaid the house would be sold over his
head. Kathie heard and did not hesi-
tate an instant. Her boarded earnings
went to pay the debt.
She did not regret her generosity
sitting there in the glow of the waning
thing again.. She did not doubt her
handsome, higt-born lovers loyalty, yet
her girls heart ached, and tears dimmed
her ctear, DrlSnb eyes.
1t was bad to be so cramped Tor
little money, and ones wedding day so
near. Her wardrobe. was limited and
sadly needed replenishing. Aunt Gray
son told the truth; she would look
shabby in the grand rooms at the
Oakland, In the midst of Charles statly
sisters
The tears came faster, and presently
the sharp pearl-handled knife, with
which she was ripping the seams, slipped
suddenly, and cut cash across the
breast of the coat.
.Kathie gave a shrek of dismay.
"There, now, I've spoiled the best of
the cloth can't get jacket from the
much abused old coat. What shall
do ?" 7e
Down went the bright young head,
and with her face buried in grandpapas
old coat, Kathie cried as if her heart
would break.
Mrs. Grayson sneered on the lounge,
the Maltese cat purred before the
hearth, the canary twittered, and out
above the wintry hills the sunset fires
giowed In golden glory. a.
Her. cry out, Kathie raised her head,
dried her eyes, and went on with her
ripping, when something rustled under
her hands.
{ S"why, what's thisa Some Of grand
papa's papers !"
She tore the Inning loose, and there,
beneath the wadding, was a package
done up in parchment, and tied with
red tape, and addressed In q clear hand /
to herselfl
Z Kathie drew it forth. One side was
IL
granddaughter, Kathie y
:" Why, what can it beY cried Kathie.
her fingers huttering as she tugged at
the tape.
At last the knot yielded, and she un-
folded the package. Folded coupon
bonds-a round dozen at least-and a
thick layer of crisp bank notes. On the
top lay little note. She read it.
"My dear little GRANDDAUGHTER hara