Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1882-07-22
AUNT OR NIECE,
How n Lieutenant of Dragons Popped
the Question.


| you-and best for mel'
So sing /, "In the cleaning of q summers
evening, seated in a small parlor at KensingtOn
with my back to a little fireplace ornamented
with shells and seaweed, and my fingers upon
| the keys of cottage pianoforte. rather dscol-
cred about the worries and decidedly out of
| tune.
1 am not well-dressed although l ALWAYS
contrive to look neat; and as glance out of the
window. which is an alcOve one, with lace cur
tains drawn across, am conscious of an I'M
reasonably angry feeling against the blonde
girl who lives next door. and who. in all the
glories Of new and fashionable attire, goes trip
ping by, accompanied by her tall lover There
| Is dog in the room with me, an awful beast. of
no particular breed. that am aware of, with q
| head like a calabash and tail like Naples
| BISCUIT No place will satisfy him but right
under the piano, at which l am sitting. and
from whence he occasionally lifts up his voice
| to accompany mine, forming a sort of duet not
at all like anything to be found amongst the
| compositions of Handel or Mozart.
The only human occupant of the room besides
myself is big red-cheeked girl. who ia fixing"
flowers. according to her own peculiar taste in
an ugly blue vase. This is Letitia, our maid-Of-
| all-wOrk-an Irish-American-with a heart as
big as her body. and a peculiar language Of her
| own, which Is sometimes not easily understood.
"Well, well" says LetitIa, as played the last
chord Of my song, II never feel SO emancipated
as when hear music like that"
know that she means affected" though
dare say nobody else would be cognizant of the
fact l stand up from the piano, and sigh heav-
lily. whilst the fOwsr-fxer cOvertly lifts q corner
OF her apron and wipes her great gray eyes.
she Is not really crying; not bit of it; but she
likes to pretend she Ia, and let the fraud 20 BY
| 81 think, )" she says, Il must have been born
rheumatic, for loves them sort O. songs"
Of course she means "rOmantic;" but know
her vocabulary SO well that don't laugh as
strangers do when she says queer things
| walk to the window, and seat myself in a
corner of it behind the lace curtain to look out;
and the dog comes and turns slowly round and
round after his kind. like a teetOtum. until he
gown, and begins to snOre. 1 rest my chin upon
nay hands. and gaze alternately at the street and
at Letitia and her flowers.
Heavens what an arrangement Fellows
and reds and puppies. all thrust prOmiscuously
| tOgether-and never q scrap of green. All the
lovely soft madenhair fern and sprgs of glossy
myrtle are lying discarded bv her side. don't
much care. They are not my flowers Thew
nave been sent anonymously to my aunt, who
has not looked at them, but has gone unroman-
tically to bed, leaving them to the tender mer-
Giles OF the tasteful maid
| "What a dreadful thing it Is to be poor!"
say presently. and the dog shores acquiescence
| Poor" says Letita, thrusting flaming
1
"Who's poor We amt
She always classes herself as one of the fam
lily.
| ooh, yes; we are" I say sorrowfully; 81 am
sure my aunt was awfully hard up this winter
! past,-nOt penny to be had from the hole in
Ireland. which is about all she has to live on.
| She is poor, and haven't a halfpenny, and I'm
| living on her. and hate it,
I'VE amt poor at all, says Letitia, browning
| her tOwer-vase with crimson rose and giving
it pat to steady it. What do you call poor?
Not US certainly. We always has lashins and
ieavins. Wasn't | in America, and doesn't
know poOrness from Welcomes any day? What
| is it you're Wantin'!'
row. say, shaking my head; '.but can't, for
know we shall have nothing but the remains
OF the cold mutton.-and it's so nasty"
Get tin o that what yOu-may- call-it, and
III dress it up with them thing -bobs," says
| Letitia, mysterOusly. ut makes grand dish,
and is soft for your aunt's gums
She means salmon and French capers but
shake my head again. mo, it won't do !;
and if aunt heard you talk about her gums,
she'd be very angry indeed. So you must be
| cautious"
"Well, now" says Lettia, apologetically, 81
was going to say her teeth, when l remembered
she has only one: Why do you say the thing
ummy-jig won't do %
asant; and it's not only that. but we have
nothing right. The soup-tureen is cracked
down the side, and all the table napkins are
| darned
"I'll run down to Miss Bryan's and fetch up
one or two good ones" says Lettia with ready
| alacrity. "WhO do you want to ask!'
| "Oh. it doesn't matter. 1t is out of the ques-
ton. | suppOse.'' And 1 sigh dismay while
she plants the gauGy flower vase triumphanty
on the mantel-piece, and sweeps the delicious
cool ferns ruthlessy into her apron.
| We'll. must CO." she says. with an air as
though had been asking her to stay, and she
was Obliged to refuse me 81 have to make
your aunts hominy. and If it's not ready before
she rings for it. she'll be out Of purchase
She means patience" and have sort of
wild idea of correcting her. But where is the use?
What can hope for from girl who calls the
water-cistern 1.-THE cecil" and the sugar-tongs
| 1.-The tweeZers?"
Left alone. l take n well-worn envelope from
my pocket and am tenderly opening it, when q
tap on the glass just behind me makes me
jump; and turning, see paTasOl and a laugh
ing face stretched over the stone balustrade
from the doorsteps. | spring up with glad
cry, and rush to let in the newcomer 1t is
Mamie Oliver-Otherwise NoOney-my bosom
friend and confidante- returned, after length
ened visit to some Outlandish place in the hap
| less Emerald Isle; and she filings off her cape
throws her hat upon the sofa. and sits. down at
once for a 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 disrespectful; but there is never any
use IN correcting Mooney. She doesn't intend
any harm. - And is that blessed old dog alive
YETI" is her second question. And then comes
| the third: And how is he, my dear?"
| flush tremendously at this; partly, It must
be confessed, with pleasure, for 1 have been
longing to be asked-yearning to have some
body tn speak to IOr many days past. "Oh, he
| is very we'll, | answer, looking out Of the
window; lat least. suppose So
| That's satisfactory" says Mooney, taking a
tempting little bit of knitting from the bag
which she carries so dainty 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 l know
| nothing. What on earth could l gather from
that wretched note of yours. six lines long?
The Tab was looking over your shoulder, l sup
pose, when you wrote it,"
| have of course been wanting dreadfully to
tell her, and ain only too thankful to have the
chance of doing SO at last. so begin at once.
1t is not very long story, nor particularly
interesting except to myself alone. 1 had gone
on visit to Colchester few weeks before and
had there met young lieutenant of dragons
| Ernest 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 fash