Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1882-10-26
KATHIE'S WEDDING DOWRY.

spiteful little shake. Kathie hemming
ruffles by the window laughed.
'What can't be cured must be endured;
there's no help for it auntie," she said.
eyes, there was help for it" cried the
lady tossing the bodice from her, elf you
had taken nay advice; but you must go
and act like simpleton! The idea of a
girl of your age giving away her hard
earnings, and then getting married with
out decent change of clothing! de-
clare it is too absurd. And you are max
Ing such good match, tool Charles
Montague comes of one of the best fam
lilies in the country, and he'll be rich one
of these days"
EAT which time, letus hope my scanty
wardrobe will be replenished," said
kathie, merrily.
Her aunt frowned contemptuously.
''But what are you to do now?" she
went on. "What do you think Mrs
Montague of Oaklands will think of you,
when she sees yoar OUTFIT"
''Not one whit less than she thinks OF
me to-day" answered Kathie, stoutly.
Mrs. Grayson glanced at the trim,
graceful figure. The closeftting blue
nerino was faultless; the linen cuffs and
collars were as spotless as the snow,
Kathie never looked shabby. Her gar.
ments seemed to be part and parcel OF
herself, like the glossy feathers and black
tuft of a canary. Yet these same gar
Ments were usually made of all sorts OF
odds and ends, for Kathie was poor, and
obliged to be rigidly economical.
Mrs. GraySon, kathie'S well-to-do
aunt, with daughters of her own, who
Srailed their silks in the dust, and tunr
bled their laces and plumes and looked
dowdy all the while, regarded the trim
figure by the window with half admir-
ing, half contemputous smile.
YOU'RE rather pretty girl. Kathie,
and you understand the art of getting
yourself up in good style. What you've
got will do well enough, but there's SO
full, upon my word. What will you do
for sarriage dresses, and dinner dresses,
and evening dresses when you are Charles
Montagues wife? Why, when l was a
bride had everything; a round dozen
of silks of every hue, popGns, merlnos,
tissues, and half dozen sorts of wraps.
L didn't 60 to James Grayson bare OF
clothes, [ tell you"
''What else could do?" the girl burst
cut passionately. "Could 1 see poor
Georges cottage sold over his head, and
he and his wife and children turned in
to the street,"
"Assuredly," answered the lady cool
ay, The could have rented house easy
enough. In your place, l should have
kept nay money in my pocket; but you
r1ro'f H-ta, % A.
sorry for it now, no doubt".
81 am not sorry; would do the same
thing again tomorrow. I'm glad l had
the money to pay poor Georges debt,
and don't care if do look shabby"
every well, 1 shall try not to care,
either. shan't help you; l told you in
the beginning; l can't afford it, and even
If could | should not feel it my duty.
You would be headstrong and senseless,
you must bear the consequences. I'll
give you some lace for your neck and
sleeves, and you may wear the garnet
set of Josephine's."
IL don't want the lace, I've some that
belonged to mamma; and l wouldn't
wear Josephine's garnets for anything"
"Oh! very we'll; don't snap my head
of, l beg; you needn't wear them.
Much thanks one gets for trying to assist
you. You won't wear any hat e1tner, l
suppose; how about that?"
IL have plenty of trimmings; 1 shall
trim that light felt wore last winter"
"And your jacket? Where's that to
come from pray?"
Kathie's tears were gone, her brown
eyes flashed like stars.
81 intend to make myselfa jacket of
grandfathers old coat" she replied.
,pt hal
laughed heartily.
Grandpa, indeedW echoed Mrs.
sGrayson. 81 should think you'd have
but little respect for his memory after
the manner in which he treated you
never leaving you penny after you
had nursed him and shaved for him as
you did"
CT think he intended to leave me
something" said Kathie. 81 know he
did, but he died so suddenly, and there
was some mistake"
.'Oh, nonsense 1 wouldn't give a
zig for good intentions. He had lots of
money-everybody knows that; it has
all gone to that scapegrace Dugald, and
you haven't shilling for your wedding
,dowry,"
"Charlie won't mind that" said
Kathie, her cheeks blooming like rose.
"Won't he? Don't tell me, child
Everyone thought you would be old Tom
hOwland's heiress when you first met
jhim. Ten to one he'd never have given
you a second thought but for that. Now
that he's too much of a man to back out
of course, but he feels it all the same
Don't tell me-"
Kathie uttered no word in answer
She took the old coat, and crossing
to the window sat down to rip it apart
Her wedding day was drawing near
there was no time to lose. Mrs. Grayso1
settled herselfon the lounge for her af
ternoon nap; the big Maltese cat purred
on the rug, the canary chirped lazily in
his cage, and without, above the waving
line of the wooded ridge, the December
sunset gIowed.
Kathie began to rip the closely stitch.
ed seams, her pretty, fresh face looking
sad and downcast. Aunt Grayson's
Worid-wise talk had put her out ofheart
All her life she had been such brave
sweet little soul Left an orphan early,
she had lived with her grndfather, and
made his last days bright
"You are dear child, Kathie; by and
by, when you think of being bride. I'll
give you a wedding dowry."
lie had said 80 dozen times; yet, al
ter his sudden death one winter night
an the will, and everything went to Du
gald. the son of a second MARRIAGE
Kathie did not complain, but it cut he
to the heart to think Grandpa had for
gotten her. She tried not to believe il
there was some mistake.
And when Dugald sold out the ole
homestead and went off to England, she
gathered up all the old souvenirs anG
took care of them. The old fur-trimme,
evercoat was among them.
Then, lodging at her aunt's, she laugh