St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1883-07-27
why 1 Pay Bills When Due.
BY HENRIETTA II. HoLDICH.

"Oh, dear :" said Rose Howard as
servant handed her. "That wretched
girl is in desperate hurry to send in
her bill for embroidery. Twenty dol
lars just what have saved to pay
for the bonnet and gloves which must
have if 90 to Mrs. Lorimer's reception.
| did not expect this bill until had
my next months allowance. Well,
she must wait, that's all"
Il would not make her wait, if |
were you, Rose" said Miss Grace Row
an, looking up from her sewing.
'Why, it is only ten days" said Rose.
Papa always gives me my allowance
on the first day of the month, and to-
day is the twenty-first."
"Nevertheless | would pay her bill
| to-day" said Miss Rowan, earnestly.
''lf it will be of any use to you | would
much rather lend you the money.
can, probably, do without it better than
she can"
'Thank you, Aunt Grace, but that
would not do ut all, )" said Rose. "When
papa consented to give me regular
allowance it was on condition that
should never borrow penny of any
one. But why are You so anxious that
the bill should be paid at once ? Do
you know anything about this girl that
yOu are so sure she is in need of the
money ?"
"No," said Miss Rowan, 81 know
nothing about her. 1t is only on gen
eral principles that | am speaking.
Not exactly, either. If you choose |
will tell you why never delay Il day
in paying bill sent in by poor per-
son, above all by poor young girl"
"a story" said Rose, gayly. ''Oh
that is delightful, | am as fond of stO-
ries now us | was at ten years old. 1t
Just comes at the right time, too, for
mamma wants me to finish this table
cloth, and | do get so tired of these
conventional borders, just the same
thing over and over, but story will
make me forget it. Do 90 on, aunty."
Rose settled herself comfortably in
her low sewing chair, and dropped her
dark lashes over her pretty blue eyes.
Aunt Grace smiled little at her eager
ness, then sighed family and began her
tale.
at is a story of the days when | was
in elderly young girl, living at home
with my parents" she said. "And the
heroine of the story-you remember
those paintings which you have
so often admired ut my home, Rose ?"
Remember them OF course | do.
Those great velvety pansies with the
dew-dr0ps standing upon their purple
petals. And the sweet peas, with rings
of dainty flush over tremulous white,
looking as if Il breath would blow them
away. And, oh aunty! those exquisite
maple-buds and catkins, the soft, furry
white 'pussies,' mingled with the bright
scarlet of the bursting buds. 1t is like
Il dream of earl y spring. But how do
they come into your story, aunty 7"
asked Rose, lifting wide eyes of inter
est to her aunt's face.
''Only because the painter of those
pictures is the heroine of it, said Aunt
Grace. Cara Hastings was her name.
She WAS much younger than ], an or
phan, fighting her way single-handed
with the world. Pretty Well, rath
cr pretty, not very. She had Il slight,
graceful figure, dark, wiStful eyes set
i'll IL small, pale face, flexible tremulOus
lips and profusion of soft, dark,
waVy hair, which framed her broad
forehead like cloud.
II met her first mt the studio of Il
friend, and, in spite of the two years
difference in our ages, we took IA mu
tual fancy to each other. After that |
was often at her studio, poor little bare
place that it was ! One room served for
| everything kitchen, parlor, studio,
| bedroom, yes, and reception room for
! her pupils. A broad lounge served for
/ iat l,al i,rl, of
! the room was cUrtained off to conceal
her toilette apparatus. Her cooking,
such as it was, was accomplished upon
ii small Kerosene stove, which, when
not in use, she kept in her closet. A
poor little place, as | said, but Cara
was very happy i'll it. She loved her
work, and she had one of those bright,
happy dispositions which makes THEN
own sunshine. She often talked to
me of her pupils, but the one of whom
she spoke ottenest was Maud y.
knew the name well, for the father of
this Maud was one of the most prOmi-
nent clergymen in the city where we
both lived. Every one respected him,
irrespective of denomination. He was
not only an eloquent preacher and 4
profound scholar. of fervid piety and
blameless life. He was also Il philan-
thropist, a refOrmer, prominent in the
temperance cause, in the Society fOl
the Suppression of Vice, in everything
that was good and noble. Cara Otter
spoke of him with enthusiasm.
- 1t is not only that Maud is such ;
darling she said, 'but feel it such al
honor to be associated in any way will
| the family of such n man y
"All this was in the winter. Sprins
came, and everybody was leaving town
did not go, although all my famil!
did, simply because | did not care to
There is such IA pleasant feeling an,
sense of solitude i'll a large city through
July and August that | meant to pu
off my outing until late September
Cara did not go away either, and w
saw good deal of each other. 1t wa
not an unalloyed JOY to me, though
for. watching her, saw that day b,
day her cheek grew paler and thinner
: her step slower, her eye more feverish
; ly bright.
\ "''What is the matter with you
Il Cara | often asked anXiOusly, but sh
a only smiled and protested that nothin
}. allied her, that she was only "a littl
+ tired with the hot weather. When fal
= came she would be herself again.
81 urged her to go out of town, or a
least to come and stay for while wit
me in our large, empty house, but NJ
4 must work, you know sal
Cara, must work harder than eve
now, that my pupils have left me fc
!. the summer. | could not work wit
you. My mind would be continual
disturbed, and-No, no, my studio
much the best place for me-
But why work so hard ? | salt