Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-07-30
HOW 1T WAS DONE.

er-physically speaking our young hero
was as brave as Bayard, as dau1tless as
Occur de Lion. But it was where the
fair sex YVES concerned that Mr.. Tor
rington became poltroon. A gentle
glance from q pair of blue eyes was
enough to throw him into q cold per-
SEPARATION at any time.
AS one by one the companions of his
boyhood and early youth vanished out
of the path Of bacnelorhood and entered
into the promised land of matrimony.
Church Torrington viewed them with q
not unenvious mind.
GLOW the mischief did they muster
up courage enough to do it?" was his
internal reflection.
And Harry Leslie, wag of forty, who
always had knack of finding out every
body else's weak points, said
"All OF that set are married except
Church Torrington, and he'll be bach
elor all the days of his life because he
hasn't got the courage to ask any girl to
have him. I don't know, though, eth
err he added refectively. "Wait till
leap year comes round again there may
be chance for him then"
Nevertheless, in the face of all these
obstacles, Church Torrington was in
love.
Miss Violet Purple was as pretty and
blooming little lassie as ever tripped
down the sunny side of Broadway under
a thread-lace parasol on June after
noon. She was very plump and rather
small, with soft blue-gray eyes, eye
brows like twin arches of jet, shining
chestnut hair like white velvet, Just
flushed with the softest pink on either
dimpled cheek.
And she had way of carrying her
head piquantly on one side, spoke with
the slightest possible of hsps, always
wore rose in her hair, and was alto
gether precisely the sort of a girl a mans
fancy was apt to conjure up when he
thought of the possibility of wife to
cheer the gloom of his solitary home.
Violet Purple was born to be married
you couldn't think of her as an old
maid any more than you could think of
Strawberries without cream, or satin
slipper without dainty foot to fit it;
and, whenever she thought Of the prob
ability of the catastrophe, Il face like the
mustached physiognomy OF Mr.. Church
Torrington outlined itself through the
misty vapors of her day-dream.
But Mr.. Church was so dreadfully
bashful-he wouldn't propose-and poor
little Violet was nearly at her wits end
what to do in this dire perplexity. A
girl of any delicacy can't very well ask a
man to have her, and Violet had done
everything else. She had smiled sweet
ly upon him, given him rose buds out of
her ball bouquets, sent him embroidered
cigar cases, and returned gentle press
ure when he had ventured to squeeze
her hand at parting; and what, we ask
the reader, could girl do more?
And still, ir spite of all this, IA. Tor
rington persisted Z keeping his love to
himself. In vain Aunt Sarepta took her
up stairs, an left the drawing room free
to twilight and the loyers-in vain Vio-
let put on her prettiest dresses and curled
her hair, with a special eye to Mr.. Tor
rington's taste.
Old Fir Purple-whose name was not
a bad description of the general hue Of
his face-began to wonder "what in the
world young Torrington meant by COM
ing here so much and keeping better
men away!" and limited very broadly at
the propriety of Violet's being more gra-
cious to certain banker, friend Of his,
who was supposed to be especially at
tracted by the blue-gray eyes and the
jet arched brows.
And little Violet took to crying at
night on her lace-edged pillows, and
Aunt Sarepta, a tall, spare, maiden lady,
who had only recently come up from
the country to take charge of her
brothers household, scarcely knew
what to do.
Violet" quoth the aunt, "what ais
you?"
"I don't know, aunt"
"How long has Mr.. Torrington been
visiting here?"
81 don't know; about three years."
"Does he care for you, Violet ?"
81 don't know, aunt" she replied,
blushing and rosy.
"Do you care for him ?'
81 don't know, aunt, she said, blush
ing still more deeply.
"Then why on earth don't he propose.
and have done with it.
81 don't know, aunt' This time in
q sort of despairing accent.
Miss Sarepta Purple set herself to IN
tangle this Gordian knot of circum-
stances as she would essnarl" in her
skeins Of mixed woods !; and when Miss
L y