Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1883-11-08

room for an overdressed widow who
wants to earn a little more pin
money"
"Crocus"
"Wouldn't it be a goodidea, mamma? ?
But now l must sit down and count
the money l have left of this months
salary. | am not by any means sure
that have enough to take us to
Dakota-unless indeed we were to sell
the old pearl brooch that belonged to
your mother And I've q sort of fancy
that luck would desert us if we parted
with that old pearl brooch"
Later in the afternoon, Crocns Gra-
ham put on the pink moss-rose gown,
with a pretty little hat of rose-colored
Grape, which she had herself made
and crept out under the shadow of the
great lime-trees in the capitol grounds,
to hear the band play.
All the world was there-the bellies
of the great city, the fashionables, the
notabilities. Elegant carriages block
ed up the drives; rainbow groups
studded the velvet lawns; and almost
the first thing which Crocus saw was
the tall figure of the twenty-fifth
auditor. standing beside Senator
StalScup's carriage, while that rubi-
cund parsonage gesticulated vehement
", and Mrs. Altamont leaned smiling
ly forward, beneath the golden-shadow
of her amber-lined parsol.
"My cousin must be provided for,
don't you see?" said the senator.
"And they tell me that your depart
ment is the pleasantest place in the
Treasury Building; and if there isn't
any vacancy just now, why, you must
make one! Nothing can be easier, l
am sure"
you think SOP" said the twenty
fifth audior, who was a tall man, with
Indian-dark hair and eyes, and a
Napoleonic conformation of brow.
Think so, man? know itr' said
the senator. Rotation in Office
that's the only safe rule. Keep the
wheel turning-make matters livelyp
Just then the line of carriages be-
! gan to move slowly on.
The auditor stepped back; Mrs.
Altamont waved her cream-gloved
hand, and the roseate countenance of
Senator Stalkcup was waited from
view.
As the auditor turned into a path
sweet with roses and shadowed with
the dropping gold" of lahmrnum, he
came face to face with CroGus, sitting
on rustic bench of twisted cedar
boughs.
"Mr. Harrington" she exclaimed,
with a start.
miss GrahamI'
IL only came out to hear the
band play, and get little breath of
| fresh air." faltered Crocus.
1T is beautiful place here" said
Mr.. Harrington, gravely.
He had known Miss Graham for
two years now. He had seen her
daily at her desk: he had exchanged
courteous salutations with her, rs she
came, every morning, out of the yellow,
Southern sunshine into the cool arcades
of the marble-pillared Treasury Build
ing, with roses in her bosom, and the
soft flush of youth and health on her
cheek.
Her dead father had been good to
him, as a young man, and he had
never forgotten this. And besides
But Crocus' heart sank piteously, as
he looked down at her with that seri-
Gus, observant eye of his.
"He is thinking how he shall break
it to me-" she thought to herself. "Oh,
dear! oh, dear! | wish it were all over,
and was safe on the Dakota farm,
with mamma and the beehives."
He spoke at last, after what seemed
an interminable silence-spoke in a
low, earnest voice
"Miss Graham" he said, "did you
ever think of leaving the depart
ment?"
"Of giving up my Officer" uttered
J Crocus, quickly.
eyes," he said. II suppose, of
course, it would amount to that"
Crocus rose and stood playing with
the tassel on her fan in a nervous sort
of way.
at is very kind of you to lead up to
the subject so carefully. Mr.. Harring-
ton," said she, "but--but know all
! about it already"