The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-07-10
lence. wherein Benjamin looks
steadily at Philip, G'sd folds has
z,1Dey c1refitLTH.

lence. Wherein Benjamin look
steadily at Philip, G'sd folds hi;
paper carefully.
Benjamin. Philip Philip looks uf
quickiy], will thee do me a kindness
| lad?
Philip (heartily). Nothing would give
me more pleasure. What is it?
Benjamin (refectiUely). would have
thee answer letter for me. With ami.
na,ion:1 I'll unburden my mind to
thee, Philip. The case stands in this
way. Thee remembers friend Andrew
Ellicot? He was with us for a season
! last year, WHOM Hannah was home for
her midsummer vacation. He writes
me GtumJLeS IN his pocket for letter;
reads: M-m-m, "And now the sequel
whereunto all this tends. Your daugh-
ter Hannah, whom thee knows l took
into my heart as chick is taken under
the mothers wing, l would choose as a
wife from all the world for this good
son of mine. Thee knows, friend Ben
jamin, abundant wealth is ours, which
will all go to the lad in due season.
But, above this and beyond, the lad is
good and true, sober and upright fit
mate for thy amiable daughter" Thee
sees what would have thee do, Philip.
Write to friend Ellicot; let him know
this marriage is the wish of my heart.
Be cordial in thy words. Bid him
bring the lad to us that the young peo-
pie may learn to care for each other.
And, Philip, if thou wouldst kindly dis
pose Hannah toward him, father S
hlas-iDCr ho thina UoIdS b;o hand ~,
in warmtng. Hush. no word of this to
others.
Enter Patience.
Patience. Benjamin, Henry Holt hath
come in from the farm, and would
speak with the about the new Durham.
Benjamin (goin0 tOward the door,.
Where is the man, Patience?
Patience. He sits in the kitchen de.
vouring Betty's good crullers as one
whose life promised to be all fast-days.
[Erit Benjamin. l am glad Henry
hath need of Benjamin, because would
speak to thee, Philip, of a matter too
delicate even for third to hear.
Phillip seriously Gttentice. Perhaps
thee wonders why. l should speak to
thee, Philip, instead of some friend of
ripper years; but when 1 say it is of
Hannah | would speak-for l know
thee has more weight with her than any
other
Phillip springs to has feet, and a0alks
rapidly back and forth.
Patience (resnnpinq.) What ails thee,
Philip? Art thou ill, poor lad?
Philip (rapidty). I'm nervous. I
beg your pardon. I'm listening.
Patience (Gently). Thee always was
an odd lad, Philip; but since thee
wishes, / will go on. 'Tis a communi-
cation l have very much at heart.
Thee knows, now Hannah has finished
her school, and Ruthie taking her to
worldly places, she will meet many
men and people perhaps whom
Benjamin and would not have her
meet. Would it not be better if she
were promised to some good young
man as his future wife? Philip stops
and looks curiOvsly at her, then goes on.
Then the attention of the worlds people
would fall on our child harmlessly.
Now [ have been thinking of young
Thomas Fleming good lad, though
fiighty as yet. Thee frownS, Philip.
But he means well. And Agnes Flem-
ing, the lads mother, was the friend of
my girlhood. We were wed within
week of each other, and the wish of
her heart, as well as mine, is that our
boy and girl should wed. We pledged
them to one another in their cradles.
and now it grieves me to see my Han
nah treat with such levity the lad who
l think holds her in such high esteem.
Philip. Ard what would YOU have
me do? Surely she should be left to
choose for herself without my inter-
ference?
Patience. Nay, Philip, the little child
must be guided by a firm hand when
learning to walk. So Hannah, being
but babe in such matters. needs a
strong hand to lead her gently but firmly
into safety. would have thee, Philip,
show her the wisdom of choosing
Thomas Fleming for husband. Thee
must not cross me in this. | will leave
thee now TO dwell on the surest method
of bringing it about. If l could not
trust thee, Philip, whom should trust?
GathcrS up glasses, book. etc. Erit.
Philip (the image of deSpa r, Hr0U-
ing himself an big cha ~. Great
heavens, what have l done to bring this
mass of confidence down on my unlucky
head? Am in Hades, and are these
others ghosts sent to torment me for
the crime of falling in love with my
benefactor' $ daughter? You are mag
unanimous fellow, Philip HAYWARD, to
give her up. forsooth. when YOU haven't
the shadow of chance of winning her,
Let me see: I'm to use my influence
in favor of that idiot Lord FeatherGluff,
because he's English and nobleman;
with young BrOad-brim Ellicot, be-
cause his father and her father think
their fortunes would look well together,
and because her bright girlish spirits
must be crushed out as too worldly;
with that conceited fop Tom Fleming,
because the boy looks pretty in his uni
form, and his mother and her mother
made mud pies tOgether. EJ,mpS to his
feet Hang it! ] won't do it. With
out grain of conceit, feel myself a
better man than any of that raiDble. If
a worthier man claimed her l would
bury nv love. 1t is the irony of fate
that makes me the one to urge the
woman love to accept the hand of
another.
ACT II.
The same place. Three months later.
Enter Hannah and Lieutenant Fleming,
Hannah laughing.
Lieat. F. l say, Hannah, YOU are
enough to turn a fellows hair white
with suspense. Why won't you marry
me? have asked you on an average
three times week since | can remem-
ber.
Hannah. Well. then, Tom, suppose
you let this week be an exception, and
don't ask me9