The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1883-11-15
GOLD AND GILT.
CHAPTER L.

She was a very pretty girl, and she
knew it, and did her best, in an innocent
sort of way to let other people know it,
and she could not help thinking, as she
walked along the Feltham road, that
keeping company with Tom Dawlish,
who was just q plain, honest, hard work
ing young fellow, was rather a waste of
time, and that marrying him would be
altogether throwing herself away.
Her reflections came to an end at the
door of Messrs. Bradbury's Office, and
she walked in wholly intent on the bill
she had to gay. A smart looking young
man received the money; when the re-
ceipt was made out, and she turned to
go, she found the shower, which had
threatened for some time, was coming
down with vengeance.
"Oh, DEAR" she said, "and have no
umbrella"
"Wait here for few minutes, Miss: it
will soon be over" said the smart young
man; and then having accepted his offer
Of shelter Mary found herself, after
minute or two, thinking that he was
very nice young gentleman las she after
ward described him to the cook. and
that he had beautiful hair-it was so
nicely curled, and he had a little dark
mustache, and be was very nice looking
indeed.
"Are you Miss Poole's sister," he
asked, after o few minutes conversation.
Mary blushed as she replied truthfully
for she was far too good girl even
to equivocate-that she was not such
distinguished individual, but only the
housemaid and chsmbermaid combined.
And then he asked her what her name
was; and with another blush she told him
that it was Clara, but Mrs. Poole said it
was too fine name for servant. and so
called her Mary.
II shall call you Clara" he said
"shall II" he added, with an appealing
glance. Mary felt her heart beat faster;
something seemed to tell her that her
destiny had come and she had no words
to utter, SO he followed up his success
full sally with another one: "Do you
ever get out of an evening for o walk"
Sometimes, she said, softly.
will you go out for walk with me
next timer"
1T wouldn't be right; you are quite
strange, you see," she answered. softly.
"Oh, we'll soon get over that, you
know. Perhaps you are engaged,
though?"
Mary's inconvenient heart gave a
thump, which showed that he meant
business. g., matrimonially.
'No. I'm not; but I'm wanted to be- 4"
Not . very lucid answer, but be I'm
derstood it.
"who tor he asked, coaxingIy.
"Well, perhaps oughten't to say his
name" she answered, slowly; for in this
the most important moment of her life.
- she felt it to be, words seemed alto
gethsr to fail her.
"What 10 he?"
"He- he's q carpenter" Mary never
felt the truth more difficult to tell in ner
life.
"a carpenter?' he said. in a telling
tone Of inquiry, not unmixed with
scorn.
well. of course. I'm no better than a
carpenter-"
'sOh, you are, you are, sir!" said
Mary, in her excitement, putting out her
hand and resting it for moment on has
sleeve.
Mary lost her heart to the smart young
nan With the blue tie and the well-oiled
hair. He never said anything more
definite than he said that first day; but
- vas always ready to take her out, and
Doct particular about her dress; and the
ronnlf vs. that ell her little hoard OF
onyin0 vent in more or less ill-chosen
lnary. end Ton DAwlish was forgotten.
Tkogs vns ons thing abe refused TO dc,
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