The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1882-08-18
AIR, MD, FRIDAY MORNING, AUGUST l8, 1882

from my pocket, and am tenderly opening it,
when a tap on the glass just behind me makes
me jump and, turning, | see parasol and
a laughing face stretched over the stone bal
ustrade from the doorsteps spring up with
a glad cry, and rush to let in the new conner.
1t is Mamie Oliver-otherwise Nooney--my
bosom friend and onfidante-returned, after
a heightened visit to some outlandish place in
the hapcss Emerald Isle; and she filings off
her cape, throws her hat upon the sofa, and
sits down at once for chat. in the first
place, how's the Tab" she says, as we draw
our chairs together.
She means my aunt Barbara, and | know
it is shockingly dsrespectful but there is
| never any usG in correcting Mooney. She
intends no harm. And is that blessed old
dog alive YETI is her second question. And
then comes the third And how is he, my
dearg'
flush tremendously mt this partly, it must
| be confessed, with pleasure, for | have been
longing to be asked-yearning to have some
body to speak to for many days past. "Oh,
he is very well, answered, looking out of
| the window "at least, | suppose So"
That's satisfactory" says Mooney, taking IL
tempting little bit of knitting from the bag
which she carries so daintily upon her arm,
and commencing upon it at once. "But pray
would you mind telling me who he is, and all
about him for you know, my dear, know
nothing. What on earth could gather from
that wrctched note of yours, six lines long?
The Tab was looking over your shoulder,
| suppose, when You wrote it,"
have of course been wanting dreadfuly
to tell her, and am only too thankful to have
the chance Of doing SO at last, 50 | began at
| once.
1t is not a very long story, nor particular
| ly interesting, except to myself alone. had
| gone on visit to Colchester few weeks be-
fore and had there met n young lieutenant
| of dragoons-Erncst Calcott-who had fallen
in love with me-or said he had-and with
| him ; and we had walked, and danced, and
taken moonlight walks together, and gazed
| at one another in church across the backs of
| the high old fashioned pews, and pressed one
anothers hands, and said soft things at part
| ing-but he had not proposed to me, although
| he swore he loved me, and | have not seen
him since, to speak to, but | knew he had
come up to town, for | had seen him go by
Yesterday and to-day looking hard in at the
| window, too but he had not called, and
| did not know what to make of it.
"Humph?" says Miss Oliver, when my
| recital is finished. Has he never written to
| you all this time !"
hang my head and answer with sorrow
| full mo"
II wouldn't give much for his love, then :"
says Mooney, shortly; but perhaps he's
afraid OF the Tab Does he know of the ex-
| istence of that sweet old feline specimen ?"
"Oh, for shame, Mooney !" | say, laughing
| in spite of myself "Of course he does
| told him was living here with an aunt"
That accounts for il" says Mooney, sagely
| Men are afraid of Tabs Does he know she's
| one?"
Il can't tell | am sure Inever said whether
| she was a Mrs or Miss"
Right |" says Mooney; I'd always pretend
| if were you, that some man had once had
| the bad taste to take her, for men are shy of
| Tabs.
$50 you think Ernest is in earnest? ?" she
| presently says. What is he like, my dear?"
take out the worn envelope again, and
slowly and blushingly produce n photograph
| which represents broad shouldercd young
| man, with honest eyes and Il big dark nous.
| tache.
well he's not bad looking, says Mooney
| with her head ON one side; though his nose
| is not quite straight but can't see his mouth
with all that hair over it, and it's always by
the mouth that | Judge fellow. If there's
an irresolute look about it, cut him short, my
dear, the moment he opens it to propose to
| you. ! always do"
She leans back with an air ofeXtraordinary
wisdom, and takes up her knitting again. |
having no knitting to occupy me, take up
the photograph and gaze at it in manner
which must appear foolish to her, for can
see she is laughing as she says, "Well what
do you intend to do, donkey? He'll get tired
of wandering past the window for nothing
| Why didn't you tap?'
Gracious | couldn't. Aunt Barbara was
! in the room"
"Oh you're no good p says Mooney impa-
| tiently. "She needn't know bit. Why
didn't You just show for minute at the win
| dow, and hold up a corner ola letter? If he
had an ounce of brains he'd know what it
meant, and be on the look. out for it."
"Wcll and then % say breathlessly.
"Well, then, scratch off few lines, telling
| him where to meet you, or anything else you
| like to say, and go out quietly to the hall, as
| if to look at the clock or something; make
| for the door, open the letter-box, and stick
| your letter up through the slit. He'll be GER
tain to see it, and if Tabby comes, you mean
dering out of the parlor-wh you thought
| you heard the postman-that's all"
"Oh, Mooney | couldn't attempt such
thing" | say in amazement. Indeed | am
| appalled, at her superior knowledge and the
| thought of such boldness.
"Well, | have-scores of times" she says
coolly going on with her work but YOU'RE
Il softly; you don't know thing"
Il couldn't do that" repeat, hanging my
head in humble confession of my ignorance
Aunt Barbara is very sharp, and she seems
queer and mysterious these last few DAYS
can't make her out at all. Pm afraid of her
sometimes she seems so strange"
"CrossY" questions Miss Oliver, plying
her needles very fast.
NO" answer, mot exactly that but odd
and silent"
"Oh, bother her" says Mooney, indignantly.
what do you mean TO do ?"
| Il really don't know | wanted to ask
cousin Thomas to come and dine here to-
morrow, and talk it over with him You
| know Cousin Thomas ?-such kind old
thing But there's nothing in the house ex-
cept cold mutton, and know he hates that 4"
Mooney draws in her lips, Couldn't eat
it myself" she says with gravity, "even with
the best pickles. How's the noble Letila 2
Couldn't she invent something to set off the
mutton?"
81 don't know, am sure" | answer rue.
fully, though she is good enough sometimes
at nventing, especially new words. She
disgraced me the other day by calling the
cruet frame "the recruit, stand"
"Oh bravo, Letitia w cries Miss Mooney,
clapping her hands and laughing heartily
''she had the recruit in her head, and out he
came, like the honest girl she is, must go,
my Pumping up in hurry as the clock
began to strike-"Im sorry for you, very ;
but | can't help you, because you won't adopt
any of my wise suggestions. So goodby-
Be sure to write, or come round and tell me
how things turn out. And don't forget to
give my love to Letitia."
II shan't do anything of the kind" | say
resentfully; she woke me up last night, saying
there were robbers outside, and took down
poor papa's cavalry sword, which she calls