The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1884-08-27

She eouldn t-she hadn q thing IN
her hand. said poor Aunt Betsy.
Then conscience told her she had
left the woman alone fer five minutes
while she took out the jam.
1t was all discussed over and over
again, and the fact that in Miss Betsy s
absence the woman had put the new
dress through the window, and picked
| It up when she went out, was fully es-
tablished.
The police we're notified, q descrip-
/ ton of the dress and the woman put
/ in their hands, and note of regret
written TO the Dumsdays-
some tea and toast, and sat bewailing
her loss and rocking TO and fro.
"a dress that cost me ninety dollars
/ before it was made, and twenty-five
for the making" sighed Mrs. Ruffit.
Il can't afford another like it this
winter, and Colonel Cowes was to be
at the Dumsdays', and he admires me
very much, Aunt Betsy. and it's most
annoying. I'd calculated on it two
weeks. and you must beg and pray a
| tipsy tramp to come and take tea with
you on purpose to have my dress
stolen"
II didn't beg and pray her. She
asked me for little tea, and she
wasn't tipsy,n sObbed Miss Betsy.
ooh, Rebecca Ruffit, how cruel you
arer'
Il suppose you expected me to
dance for ioY," said Mrs. Ruffit 81
must say that's too much to expect;
but | might be not only robbed, but
murdered, If you could only give all
the money Won liked to drunken
tramps. That's your monomania,
/ Aunt Betsy, and must say it if you
/ kill me. -
Then began woful quarrel. in which
all the reproaches that could be utter.
ed on either side found vent
The ladies wept, and sighed, and be-
! moaned themselves.
They spoke of parting. They shook
| their heads and rocked to and fro, and
the fire went out, and the oil burnt low
in the lamp. The clock struck ten
and eleven, and still the ladies found
new determinations to utter.
At last twelve o'clock came. The
carriages which bore the departing
guests home from the Dumsdays' great
party were heard to roll past, and
Mrs. Ruffit burst into a fresh flood oil
tears
81 feel so dreadfully sick Aunt
Betsy" she said; $50 heavy in every
limb; such a weight somehow. You
| know excitement is bad for me. DIR.
| Sweetman says I'm predisDosed to
/ heart-disease, and | know this is an at
tack of it. I've all the symptoms. My
arms are swollen-look how tight the
sleeves of this dressing-gown are-and,
| my goodness, Aunt Betsyl look at the
belt! il won't meet! Can't you see how
Pm putting up all over? I'm going to
| der
'.Ah, my poor child cried Aunt
Betsy, "you really are! Oh, do let
me take your things off, and put you
to bed, and send for doctor Come
upstairs at once.
| Mrs. Ruffit assented.
Aunt Betsy helped her upstairs,
opened the bed, laid out the white
night-gown. and began to help her
niece off with the double-gown. She
slipped the big loops of cord from the
big buttons, and began Juggling at the
sleeve.
The lowered cashmere slowly re-
coded from the left shoulder.
Aunt Betsy paused ant gave a
scream.
"Rebecca Ruffitrh she cried.
''Oh. what is it, Aunt Betsy?" asked
Mrs. Ruffit. "Am l turning black?"
Look" cried Aunt Betsy. "Why,
Rebecca Ruffit, you've put your double
gown on over your new dress. No
wonder you felt queer.
"Why. how did l come to do such a
thingP" gasped Mrs. Ruffit in amaze
ment. 81 must have taken my nap in
it, toor
She peeled of the double-gown in
double-quick time.
She had nothing to say, except:
mo wonder felt stuffy!"
There was nobody to blame, and
nothing to do but to make it up with
Aunt Betsy, who accorded gracious
forgiveness, and retired meekly; but
up in her own room she INDUCED her.
self in little burst of triumph
"Tisn't me that's made fool of
myself" she said ungrammatically, as
she tied her night-cap, and blew out
the candle; "and that's some comfort,
anyhow.