The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1882-03-18

SAID doratla reckIeSSly.
"But, mind. you're to keep it a
secret"
GAS the grave" his mischievous
niece answered, with mock solemnity.
Miss Horatia Mere would scarcely
have been recognized by her nearest
friends, when she was dressed for the
curious part she was 10 play ''for one
day only" as she declared. A calico
dress thick boots, in which her tiny
feet felt unwontedly clumsy worn
waterproof cloak, borrowed from
Mary Ann the cook, and a worsted
hood enveloped in faded black veil,
and basket hanging over her arm
these were the details of her costume.
"Strawber.ries" she cried, raising
her sweet voice to &c above.n "Oh.
Uncle Peleg, it will be such a joke!n
And she tripped away, delighted at
the prospect of playing at the realities
of life.
Uncle Peleg looked after her rather
doubtfully, as he resorted mechani-
cally to his unfailing panacea for all
human ills or perplexities, the snuff
box.
I'm almost sorry l s ent her on such
an unpalat BILE Grand" he said to
himself; "but it's just as well that she
should see the world as it really is.
Her life has been all eoele,m de rose,
and no wonder. The strawberries will
be dear bargain, after ALL
While these reflections were passing
through the eccentric old mans brain,
Horatia Mere had already rea he'd the
first house on her list, inhabited by
Mrs. Montague, lady who had always
professed the sweetest and most saint
like character, whose voice was soft
and 10 ~, and who spoke in six-sylla-
bled y ords of Websterian elegance.
NJ : Montague herself was in the
hall Is Horatia rang the door bell.
"If We phase, ma'am" said Bridget,
ats gilrel sellin' strawberries-will
we bsy Il quart ?"
STRAW berries, indeed and at the up
per door! shrilly cried Mrs. Monta-
que, In voice that for an instant
| almost compelled Horatia to doubt the
lady's identity. Don't you know
better, girl, than to bring your trum-
perry wares to the front door? What
do you s'pose basement bells were
made for? Clear out this minute !!
What are you standing staring there
for? Don't you hear what I say ?"
And she took hold of Horatia's arm,
and assisted her progress with Wig
orous push.
Mrs. Dysart's came next-an elegant
widow, with an ivory pure complex
ion curls like the tendrils of grape
vine, whose obstinate rings she was
always lamenting. This time our
heroine knew better than to go to the
front st ps, and made her way meekly
to the area bell.
"Strawber. les, is it ?" said the little
girl Nho came to the door. "I'll ask
the missis."
Mrs. Dysart herself presently came
to the door, and Horatia started to zee
the marvellous dissimilarity between
the Mrs. Dysart Of society and Mrs.
Dysart at home. Her skin was sallow,
wrinkled and blotched, here and there,
from the too frequent use of powerful
cosmetics her hair was screwed up
into a little papilSotes, secured by pins,
making perfect chevour de frase of
her head her beautiful figure was
lathy and straight, like a pump draped
| in calico!
Strawberries of course not, at this
season of the year." said Mrs. Dysart
snappishly. "I'm not made of
money!
And she slammed the door in
Horatia's face.
| miss Ferrars will buy them, at all
events" said Horatia to herself. Luz
ellie Ferrars was always noble hearted
and generous" ..
"How much are they ?" said the fair
Lucille coming to the head of the
basement stairs, in a disho5ue of
greasy pink cashmere and soiled
white apron.
Eighteen cents basket"
"Pshaw!" said Lucille supercilli-
ously. "As if I was going to pay such
a price as that I'll give you ten ~
"They are unusually fine," said
Horatia timidly.
II shan't give cent over eleven ~
Horatia turned away.
+ 81 wonder you fruit girls have the
face to ask such price!n said Miss
Lucille Ferrars, lingering her purse
strings. "Tws I've, there-and that's
more than THEY'RE worthur
II cannot sell them under the price
RI have named" persisted Horatia,
shrinking from the sharp, glittering