Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1884-03-07
The Professors Choice.

Ol'ft, OllNe where are you!
Octavia Weston's clear, sweet voice
rang like trumpet through the desc.
late old garret, where the red glow Of
sunset yet fingered amid dark cross
beams and festoons of cobwebs; and
out from particular nook where the
light shone longest, and the huge chests
and piles of lumber had been dragged
partially away from the window-ledge,
came brown-skinned, jet-eyed young
girl, her black hair twisted into knot
at the back of her head. and her eve
brows knitted, as if in preoccupation
of some nature.
"Well?' she said, shortly.
"What little, old mole you are, to-
be-sure,' said Octayia, "to burrow
here, when all the world is out in the
woods, picking up chestnuts and cath.
ering autumn leavesl Writing poatru
are you, or correcting tire exercfssz- ' )
those horrid little girls in the sixth
class? Olive, Olive. l wonder you
don't drown YOURSELF am sure l
should, if l were in your place.
"What is it you want, Octavia?'
said Olive, brusquely.
81 want you to sketch the letter G on
this piece of paper. Something origi-
nal and fantastic, You know; and il
lustrate it for me in gold-leaf and
colors, that's darlingl l must have
it this evening at eight O'clock"
q don't see how can finish it, said
Olive. roughiag up her black locks,
with mechanical hand-it was always
to this name of hers that she resorted
when she was in a quandary-and
staring intentIy at the ceiling, as if
seeking for inspiration there.
ooh, yes, you can And I'll lend
You my locket to wear at the picnic,
Do try-there's a love-" urged Octavia.
Olive caught up the pencil and hur-
riedly sketched the initial-a Gothic
letter, twined in and out of ruined.
easement.
"Will this do?" said she.
"0h,' cried Octavia, "it is exquisite,
After the ultra-marine and gold,leaf
are in, it will be perfect!"
Leave it, then," said Olive. "and
YOU shall have it at the children's tea!
But don't want your locket. Jewelry
S well enough. but not when it is bor
,owed."
How funny you are, Olive Dent!'
said Miss Weston.
But she withdrew in radiant good
lumor.
"0liye never likes to be talked to
when she. has one of her inspired fits
IN, thought she. "But the letter is
exquisite, and the professor is sure to
De pleased with it."
Octayia Weston and Olive Dent were
10Th pupils of Mrs. Hunt Sedley. who
'ept fashionable institute for young
aides.
Octayia was the daughter of an i'm
naval officer, who had not
'aid any of her bills very lately, but
whose beauty and good humor made
Ter a universal favorite.
Moreover, Professor Anderton, who
lad instructed the girls of the school
q literature and belles-lettres, before
he great fortune had been bequeathed |
o him by distant relative, and who
I'LL came daily from Anderton Priory !
o give his lessons, simply, he said, be-
ause he liked it, had fallen in love
With her brilliant complexion and deep,
iquid eyes; and this, in the estimation
1 the Hunt-Sedley Institute, was dis
lnction indeed!
Olive, on the contrary,w was an orphan,
nth no friends and relatives in partic-
lar, except one elderly aunt, who
'anted very much indeed to get rid of
er, and she earned her tuition in the
igher classes by giving instruct on to
ne little ones, mending their clothes.
nd patiently performing all such
ifices as these.
Olive was no beauty; but there was
very winning in her frank,
pen manner, her earnestness about
she undertook. And the