Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1882-03-24

said, ina delighted tone.
"Well, he's just the biggest blackleg in
the service, Jennie, and if you take my
| advice you'll send him off sharp
II believe YOU are jealous, Mr.. Weare,
and telling stories about the captain; he is
always very polite to me-" and she
smoothed her pretty hair and arranged the
trifes on the counter.
sob, he's polite enough, no Doubt"
"And he's bringing me some flowers"
''Now look here. Jennie, are you going
to take them?"
| "Of course / am.''
"Well, then, goodbye
"Good-bye,n she laughed OF course
she knew he wouldn't go.
"Jennie. he'll be in directly, and L shall
be off, but you must choose between him
and me. If you are going to Keep on talk
ing to him, shall never come in the place
again; SO which is it to he?''
1.-THE captain"
"But am not joking: l II never see you
again."
mo more am joking; so goodbye"
Good ye"-and he went.
II.
He kept reselutely away for a whole
month-never once went near the place
If Jennie wanted him she might send for
him or get her sister to invite him to tea,
as she had done before. But John Weare
was not sent for, neither was he invited to
foo anA hic irifc rs
eff she cared for me she'd have got in
my way somehow before this-trust a wo-
man," he thought
The idea of not being cared for was not
cheerful. That night he strolled careless
ly by the shop, but on the opposite side of
the way. Nothing was to be seen of Jen-
ME. He walked on in brown study,
then crossed over, and went deliberately
by the shop, with one eye, however, turned
in it's direction. but not a sign Of Jennie.
He went back to the barracks in a dejec-
ted frame of mind.
Its an awful pity-such nice girl;
and there 3 the cottage all ready for her
step into, and me- ready to retire from the
service, and good trade at my back; it's
too bad, all owing to that Captain MCGEE,
too. And the fruit in the garden of the
cottage all ripe, and no one to pick it,
The very next morning John Weare
walked deliberately into the shop and
asked for penny newspaper, and had the
felicity Of being served by Mrs. Evans.
"Quitea stranger, Mr.. Weare," she
Il. Init ho lu orJ1 eho a.,
and for the life of him he could not screw
up his courage to ask for her sister.
That night John Weare was miserable
''She can't care a rush for me,'' he
thought, and marched all over town, and
nearly to Greenwich and back in his ex-
element.
The next day was lucky one for John.
He came across Bibbs. Bibbs was Mrs.
Evans oldest boy. No one knew what his
real name was, or why he was called Bibbs;
he was never called anything else.
"Bibbs,'' said John Weare, "come and
have some fruit" and he carried him off
in triumph to the cottage and stuffed him
with gooseberries until he couldn't move,
and with black currants till he was black
as crow. Then he carried him inside
and stood him on the table before him.
Gibbs, how old are your"
He thought it better to begin the con-
versation with question.
sFive and half. Is that your sword
up there?"
eyes. Who gave you those bronze
shoe, Bibbs?''
Now he knew Jennie had given them to
him, but he so wanted to hear her name.
"Auntio. She's going away soon," he
added. ':Let me look at your sword
now?"
Where is she going?" he asked with a
sick feeling at his heart.
'She's ill, think, and she's always
crying over her silver thing you gave her,
and kissing it like anything"
The ''silvel thing" was little heart of
about the size of shilling, which he had
bought at Charlton Fair last October, and
timidly requested her to accept.
John Weare jumped up and showed
BIbbs his sword, and carried him on his
back all over the place, and entreated him
to have more black currants in his delight.
But Bibbs declined.
'Aunt Jennie's going to bring me some
from Ethan tonight" he said.
So Jennie was going to Ethan, was she.
John Weare took Bibbs home. and on his
way presented him with white woody
lamb that moved on wheels and squeaked,
and monkey that went up a stick on be.
ing gently pushed.
"Crying over her silver thing,'' said
John Weare. ''I'll go and hang about the
Ethan road till I see her and beg her
pardon"
And he went, and Jennie met him, and
pouted and declared she hadn't once
thought of him, and then broke down and
cried. And john begged her pardon, and
declared that he had been heartless brute;
and then Jennie contradicted him and
said it was all her fault. and told him how
Mrs. Dunleb, the colonel's wife, had one
day walked in and told her, in the kindest
possible manner, that she was spelling her
sisters business, for the ladies who had
been interested in her welfare kept away
because of Jennie's flirting propensities,
which filled up the shop with idle officers,
who were always in the way, and how she
had been so ashamed and wretched, and
SO cut up at the desertion of John Weare,
that she had intended to 60 back to De-
vonshire.
''But you won't now ?'' he said. as they
leaned over the stile leading to Ethan
fields s.You,ll get ready at once. and we'll