Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1884-11-08
SELECT STORY.
ROMANCE OF HOUSE CLEANING.

j
Eric Hale, with a slight grimace.
''That slmpering fine lady, with the
useless white hands, and the shall
low little society laugh. Oh, Aunt
Della, pack my portmanteau and let
me be off on lecturing tour until
Flora Lees visi: comes to an end"
i Mrs. Dove looked little disap-
pointed. To confess the truth, she
had especially arranged this visit with
reference to her nephew, Eric.
"1e is fine young fellow" she
had said to herself, with true femi-
nine diplomacy, "with an excellent
parish and fine prospects-and it is
high time he was settled in life with
a wife. And think Flora Lee would
suit him exactly
And here was the young man him.
self upsetting this charming little
castle-in-the- air, without the least
scruple of conscience, like the mod
ern iconoclast that he was.
"Well, Eric" said Mrs. Dove, de-
spairingly, 81 will write to her not
to come. OF course, | don't want to
put you out, just when you are so
busy, too, with that course of
lectures on the Book. of Revelation
but I thought Flora would make
the house lively"
"She is deal too artificial to suit
me-" said Eric Hale. "Ask her to
come in June, when l shall be off to
Omaha and Nevada on that confer
ence business. But as visitor, |
should prefer little Polly Pepper
corn's big wax doll with the silky
black hair and staring black eyes
that open and shut by machinery"
So Mrs. Dove, choking back the
tears of disappointment (for she had
been nursing this pet scheme in Sc
cret for long time) sat down and
wrote letter to her friend, Miss Lee,
postponing the proposed sojourn at
Cedarsborough farm, until roses
should be in bloom, and strawberries
begin to ripen.
"AdonIah," said she to the hired
man, ''take this letter to the post
Office
"Yes'm," said Adonijah, and he
put it in his pocket, and straightway
forgot all about it.
1t was dismal rainy morning in
April, the yellow jonquil beaten to
the ground, the very wild vlolets shut
ting up their eyes as if in unmitigat-
ed disgust at the unpromising state
of the weather. Overhead, racks of
gray clouds scudded across the sky,
and the little sheet of silver lakelet
was dotted and dimpled all over with
the falling rain, as if pierced with a
thousand tiny javelins.
at is no use trying" said Mrs.
Dove, plaintively, "the fates them
selves have conspired against mev'
The carpets were up, the pals of
whitewash stood steamlng in the
middle of the parlor floor, and Mrs.
Dove herself, with her gray curls tied
up in a yellow damask pocket hand
kerchief, which her great uncle had
brought from China half a century
ago, sat crying on the lower edge of
step ladder. For Betsy, the help,
had fallen down the cellar stairs and
broken her leg, and Mrs. Mulroy, the
char woman, had sent a message that
her eldest son had broken out "wid de
maizels, sure-speckled all over like
a shower of red pepper, and sorra a
bit of clanin could do for her until
next wake"
Sand these three days ofall Others"
sighed Mrs. Dove, "when Eric had
exchanged pulpits with Mr.. Wash
burne. And he so dislikes house
cleaning and"
"Dear me, Mrs. Dove, what is the
NATTER"
Mrs. Dove started to her feet with
little scream-for there, exactly as
if she had been rained down out of
the gray zenith, stood Flora Lee, in
trim brown travelling dress, with
neat little handbag, gossamer water
proof cloak and silk umbrella.
"Why, Flora! how came you here"
cried Mrs. Dove.
"By the train, of course" said Miss
Lee, ':and | walked from the station"
81 wrote you not to come" said
Mrs. Dove, in CONSERVATION.
"But l neverreceived any such let