Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-05-29
CHAPTER vi,

uTSU GuluS Sil0 ulu WIS W lOOk dfOuu lOi il1t
Sunday clothes, which on retiring to rest she
had carefully placed beside her bed They
we're gone, and in their place lay the habili-
ments she was accustomed to wear on her
erratic pilgrimages every day.
Her face grew cloudy she hunted all around
the chamber, but finding nothing that she
sought she was compelled to array herself as
best she could.
civilian JONES'" she said, when she sat
with that worthy at hermit's breakfast Of
dry bread and whey, where's my Sunday
clothesy'
William Jones fidgeted bit, then he said:
s'They're put where you won't find 'em
Look ye now, Matt, you'd best be after dom
summat useful than runnin' about after
painter chap. was down on the shore this
morning, and seen heaps O wood-youd
best get some of it afore night"
Matt gave snort, but said nothing. A
few minutes later her benign protector left
the cottage, and little after he had disap-.
peared Matt issued forth; but instead of
beating the shore for firewood, as she had
been told to do, she ran across the fields to
the painter.
She found him already established at his
work. The fact was he had been for some
time strolling about with his hands in his
pockets and scanning the prospect on every
side for sight of her. Having got tired of
this characteristic occupation, he at length
sat down and began to put few touches to
the portrait Seeing that he was unconscious
Of her approach, Matt crept up quietly be-
hind him and took peep at the picture.
Her black eyes dilated with pleasure
"Oh, amt it beautiful" she exclaimed
$50 you have come at last" said Brinkley
quietly, going on with his painting.
She made no movement and no further
sound; SO he continued:
perhaps, now you haze come, you'll be
good enough to step round that I may con-
tinue my work. I am longing to refresh my
memory with sight of your face, Mattr
"Well, you can't" said Matt; they're
locked upl"
your faceg'
1t was clear Matt could not appreciate ban
ter. She saw him smile, and guessed he was
laughing at her, and her face grew black and
mutinous. She would have skunk off but his
voice stopped her.
''Come here, Matt" he said. stDon't be
silly, child; tell me what's the matter, and
why, what has become of your Respondent
raiment-your gorgeous Sunday clothes?'
"Didn't tell you?-they're locked up"
s'Indeeds'
''Yes, William Jones done it cause he told
lin. He don't want me to come here and be
iook."
'sOhl Tell you what it is, Matt, we will
have our own way in spite of them. For the
present this picture shall be put aside. If in
a day or SO you can again don your Sunday
raiment, and sit to me again in them-if
| not, I dare say shall be able to finish the
dress from memory. That portrait L shall
70 T,,+ r
for myself, will paint you as you are. Do
you approved"
Matt nodded her head vigorously.
Every well, said Brinkley. ''Then wewill
get on"
He removed from his easel and carefully
covered the portrait upon which he had been
working. Then he put up fresh cardboard,
and sat down, inviting Matt to do the same.
With the disappearance of the Sunday
clothes the girls stiffness seemed to have dis
appeared also, and she became again ver-
table child of nature. She looked like a
shaggy young pony fresh from race on the
mountain-side, as she threw herself on the
ground in an attitude which was all pictur-
sequences and beauty. Then, with her plump,
sun-burned hand she began to carelessly pull
up the grass, while her black eyes searched
alternately the prospect and the painters
face.
Presently she spoke:
che says you're pryin' scoundrel," she
said.
Brinkley looked up and smiled.
s'Who is he, Matt?'
''Mr. Monk, !" she replied, and gave jerk
with her head in the direction of Monkshurst.
ooh, indeed" said Brinkley. cit is my
amiable equestrian friend, is its I'm sure Pm
much obliged to him. And when, may ask,
| did he bore you with his opinion of me?"
s'Last night, when he come to see William
JONES' He said wasn't to be took no more,
| cause you was a scoundrel, pokin' and
| pryin'."
Brinkley began to whistle, and went on for
| while vigorously touching up his work
| Then he looked up and regarded the girl
curiously.
s'Mr. Monk seems to be very much inter
ested in you, Matt?n
| The girl nodded her head vigorously; then,
remembering the odious caress to which Mr.
| Monk had subjected her, she began to yio-
| lently rub her cheek again.
"Why is Mr.. Monk so interested in you!
| Do you know?'
"P'raps it's cause he found me when come
ashore"
"oh, he found you, did ies Then why
doesn't he keep you"
''He do, only live along o William
Jones"
Again Brinkley began whistling lightly
ind working away vigorously with his
brush. Presently the conversation began
again.
"Matt, what things did you come ashore
| n.y.
| 81 dunnoi'
| "You have never heard whether anything
vas found with you which might lead to
your finding your relations?"
"No; no more has William Jones. He
says maybe they'll find me some day and re-
ward him, but Mr. Monk says they were all
drownded, and I amt got no friends 'cept
him and William Jones'"
| swell, since he found you, suppose he
| ought to know; and since you have no rela-
tions, Matt, and no claim upon anybody in
the world, it was very kind of Mr.. Monk to
keep you, instead of sending you to the work.
house, as he might have DONE"
On this point Matt seemed rather skeptical.
"Wal." continued Brinklev. as he went ON