The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1883-11-10
A SOCIETY ITEM.

''Did We see the Cyclops Courier,
Miss AbigailP' queried old Simon
Sharpe, in quite fever of excite
ment.
He was leaning over the little green
painted gate, coatless and blue-shirted
just beyond Miss Abigail Byrnes paused
in her task of tying up heavy-headed
August roses-a tall, angular figure,
clad in brown-and-white striped print
and big yellow sun-bonnet. Very bony,
scant Of smiles and hard of feature was
Miss Abigail. but gentle and generous
as a child's was the heart under the
ugly calico gown.
mo" she replied, II haven't seen it
what's the newsP''
He responded with counter question.
''You remember Roger KearneyP'
''To be sure. He went to the city to
start big store. What of himP"
They be a-saying down at the Cor
ner that just now when he had got his
big store built, stocked and fiourishin',
he has gone and been burned clean out,
every yard of silk-stuff and ivory but
tons"
He paused, breathless.
Miss Abigail clasped her thin hands
and elevated her pale brows in dismay
not at the peculiar English and curl
Gus rhetoric of her narrator, but at the
startling information impaired. Lands
sakes!" she calculated. "You don't
say sO!''
Simon nodded vigorously.
eyes" he affirmed, with the apparent
savage relish observable in even phleg-
matte natures when the misfortunes Of
another is the subject of discussion,
''lost everything, they say! Hadn't no
insurance, neither. H'ain't saved q
spool O. thread. Not as much as hook,
eve nor darnin' needle leftn
Miss Abigail promptly tied the strings
of her sunbonnet afresh and let down
her gown, which had been pinned care
fully up. sI'll Just run over to Mrs.
Evans" she declared, sand borrow the
Courier. She takes it. News don't
taste good at secondhand, anyhow"
And she went.
Leaning out of picturesque, vine
wreathed window up at the rambling,
white country house of which Miss Abb
gail was mistress looked pretty Doro-
thy Stratton.
where on earth is Aunt goingP" she
asked herself bewildercdly as she caught
sight of the tall, flying figure. '.Leav-
ing the roses only half tied up, tool
But Just then stray sunbeam lit the
stone on Dorothy's finger to dazzling
flame. She forgot all about Miss Abb
CALLS hurried exit as she turned it now
this way, now that, and ended by kiss
ing it in burst of rapture.
''You dear, dear little ringl" she said
You see it was quite novel to her yet
her engagement and her ring.
This was only August In May sht
had not dreamed of the existence o
such a person as Mr.. Paul Carlisle.
He had come down to Blue-Berr,
Hill in June, popular and successful
Young sculptor, seeking rest, isola' iol
and country quiet. And the very. frs
thing he did-he who could have chosel
last season from half dozen brillian
society belles-was to fall head owe
ears in love with Dorothy Stratton.
She captured his erratic artistic fan
CIV, and she pleased his instructive sens
of refinement.
She was so 1.-THE and graceful, wit
such round marvellous curves of throa
and arms. And she held her small
sloe-black head with such charmin
dignity. And what could be more wiz
seine than the face with its clear, colo
less skin and liquid gray eyes, an
curved black brows and grave, swee
crimson MOUTH
just how June and July passe
neither of these happy, foolish youn
people could have lucidly explained.
And the precise manner in which |
had spoken at last, the shy confusion
her answer, the parting with regret
hopes, love unutterable, was still me
mystic, enhancing, delicious remer
branee.
But there was the ring, glitterin
tangible reality. So what wonder Dor
thy turned it up and down, and und
and over and kissed it in sheer joy
hearth
over at Mrs. Evans Miss Abigail 81
her sunbonnet united and pushed ba
on her head, her spectacles perched
her accommodatingly rigid nose, de
in. the perusal of the CyelopS Courier.
s.Too bad, ehp' queried Mrs. EvaI
briskly topping gooseberries.
YES" assented Miss Abigail, ''aft
all his years of saying-eh! wha
thisP'
whats whatP'' asked Mrs Eval
startled>at her guests tone. She v
staring straight at the sheet she he
her eyes very troubled and her mot
grimly set.
..Dear, dear, Miss Byrnes!M exclaim
Mrs. Evans, in feeble alarm, ''do tel
But her visitor made no reply, OF
reused herself with an effort, tied