The Penn's Grove record., 1883-09-01
In the Cleaning.

"Now, my little Truthie, you'd better
lay all this to heart"
This was the end of handsome Hal
Hale's long lecture to his pretty, co.
quettish little sister Truth.
He lay in the hammock before the
open door, and she sat upon the lower
stair in the hall, pouting and playing
with a daisy chain.
1t had been a long and unusually
serious lecture, all about Neil Gaynor,
| the last of Truths summer lovers,
whose heart she was playing with as
| she had played with a score of other
| lovers since the lovely seaso at Moss
mere began.
"If Neil were a noodle like Fitz-
gerald, or a fool like Markham, Truthie,
| l wouldn't care,n Hal had said. "But
for you Just to amuse yourself at play
ing hide-and-seek with a royal fellow
like Neil won't do in fact, he won't
stand it, and you'll never have another
such an offer, you silly, spoiled little
| puss, as long as you live. So take my
advice and marry him offhand like a
woman, and have no mor Of this fiirt-
fng.'
Hal had turned over in the hammock
and taken up his book. "a
Truth had twisted her chain until she
broke it.
She was still pouting, but the flush
had died off her dimpled cheeks, and
there was a suspicious moisture in her
eyes. She did not speak.
She could not tell Hal that his shafts
of truth had gone home.
She knew well enough that Neil
Gaynor was lust splendid"
She had learned it already by the
manly way with which he received her
refusal the previous evening.
sShe liked him very much as a friend,
but she could not think of anything
further she bad said, her golden head
as high as possible in the air, and her
gaze wandering as far as it could from
the serious attention of his handsome
gray eyes.
They were such clear, frank beauti-
full eyes.
They haunted her sleep that night.
She woke up and thought by the
moonlight, and felt very small and
mean.
What did make her such an ~insincere
tri1er she could not understand.
She knew that there were not many
men like Neil Gaynor.
Instead Of being grateful for his love,
why ! ad she crested her head, like a
silly bird, and declined it
And he had not uttered an angry or
reproachful word-had not accused her
of flirting, called her "a heartless
coauette," as the others did-only
bowed in silence and left her courteous
ly.
But those clear, beautiful eyes would
not be forgotten.
She sobbed a little ON her pillow, try
ing to declare that she didn't care.
And now, with morning, comes
Halls serious interference, though he
knew nothing about last evening'sscene.
She was really frightened at what she
had done, and dared not tell him-good
Hal, who was the kindest elder brother
a naughty girl ever had for though she
had said to herself, Neil will come
back even as Hal lectuied, Mr.. Neil
Gaynor, on his black horse, Turk, rode
slowly below the terrace, and, seeing
her, did not pause-only raised his hat
and passed on.
The season was at an end, the people
at the hotels going home.
What if he went to town and she
never saw him again !?
Amist came wei her eyes the wind
soughed among the woodbine at the
| door which made her shiver.
Poor, remorseful little Truthie
She sprang up and ran away at last.
What if Hal should look around and
see her crying?
She drenched her face well with eau
de cologne before she came down to
dinner.
"Truthie," said Hal, carving the
Joint, and helping her literally to Lyon
naise potatoes by way of making up for
the mornings scolding-for he was very
fond of this little sister of his, and very
tender OF her faults, good Hall
"Truthie, we are invited to Mrs. st,
Roses for tomorrow evening""
The color which Truth had not beer
able to rub into her cheeks appeared
brightly now
Mrs. st. Rose was Neil Gaynor's sis
ter, the most delightful. lady in exis
tence, who lived at a charming plac'
called Homeparks, and twice a year CAV,
a large party.
"She is rather late with her party thi
year.
| 81 believe she has been waiting 70
her niece to come down from the noun
: tains," said Hal, carefully choosing
stalk of celery.
y "Have you " . this Miss N.Y.