Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1882-06-15

his wife and children turned into TIT
street =
'Assuredly,' answered the lady, cool
ly, he could have rented a house easy
enough. In your place, i should have
kept my money in my pocket; but you
wouldn't listen TO my advice. You
are sorry for it now, no doubt
Il am not sorry. L would do the
same thing again tomorrow. Ina glat
| had the money to pay poor Georges
debt, and l don't care if l even should
look shabby
Very well, l shall try not to care
either. shan't help you; l told you
that in the beginning; / can't afford it.
and even if L could l should not feel il
my duty. You would be headstrong
and senseless, you must bear the con-
sequences. I'll give you some lace for
your neck and sleeves, and you may
wear the garnet set of Josephine's.'
Il am perfectly aware OF your not
caring, though you are my aunt; but l
don't want the lace, nor should any
thing induce me to wear borrowed gar
ments. Besides L have some very fine
lace which belonged to my dear, dead
mother, which shall wear in remem-
brance of her, knowing how happy she
would be, were she alive and with me,
at the event that is soon to take place.
Obi very well; don't snap my head
off, beg; you needn't wear them.
Much thanks one gets for trying to as
sist you. You won't wear any hat
either, suppose
Il nave plenty of trimmings; l shall
trim that light felt wore last winter.
And your jacket? Where's that TO
come from, prayT
'Kathie's tears were gone, and her
brown eyes flashed like stars as she
answered, Il intend to make myself a
jacket of grandfather's coat
Her aunt threw back her head and
laughed boiSterously as she went on:
'Grandfather's old coatl oh, that is too
goodl What would Mrs. Montague say
to that? Kathie, child, what goose
you are!'
Kathie threw aside her ruflles, and
going to the clothes press brought out
the old coat. The material is very
fine, she said, and this rich, old-fashion-
ed fur will cut into nice strips for trim
ming. Oh, l am sure that l can make
a handsome jacket out of it, and
think she added, softly, 'grandpapa
would like me to have 1t. if he knew
'Grandpapa, indeedp echoed Mrs.
Grayson. Il should think you'd have
but little respect for his memory
after the manner he treated you il
never leaving you penny after having
nursed him and shaved for him as you
did night and day for all those years.
Il have no doubt he intended to
leave me something said Kathie. Il
know he did; but he died so suddenly,
and put off altering his will until it
was impossible to do So
oh, nonsensel l wouldn't give a
Gig for good intentions! He had lots
of money-everybody knows that; it
has all gone to that scapegrace Dugald,
and leaving you without shilling for
your wedding dowry.
Charlie won't mind that said
Kathie, her cheeks blooming like a
rose.
Wont he? Don't tell me child!
Every one thought you would be old
Tom Rowland's heiress when you first
met Mr.. Montague. Ten to one he'd
never have given you second thought
but for that. Now that he's disappoint-
ed, he's too much of a man to back out,
of course, but he feels it all the same.
Don't tell me. know men better than
YOU
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,
and there was no time to lose. Mrs.
Grayson settled herself on the lounge
for her afternoon nap; the canary chirp-
ed lazily in his cage; and without, above
the waving line of the wooded ridge,
the December sunset glowed.
Kathie began to rip the strong, close
ly stitched seams, her pretty, fresh face
looking sad, but not hopeless. Aunt
Grayson's world-wise talk had some
what hurt her. 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 dear child, Kathie; by
and-by, when you 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 every
thing 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
mistake. but it was very hard to doso.
And when Dugald sold out tie 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
it, on which was her full. name.
Then, boarding at her aunt's, she
taught the village children, and saved