The Penn's Grove record., 1885-09-12
PENIS GROVE, n. j, SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER u. 1880.

''Why, Monte, my wife Is scarcely
twenty, and my youngster only six
months oldl'
Evidently only just out of their hon
eymoon, think | ~despondently,
I revive slightly when. on arriving at
the station, | see a neat little dog cart,
which quickly conveys US to Roselands
There stands my hostess awaiting us on
q small covered terrace that fronts the
house. Clustering roses climb up the
slender supports of the veraDdah ana
make a pretty framework for the glr-
lish figure Of Kate Pilton. Although
slight still, she is an embryo Juno, and
gives promise of a rich maturity, for,
wife and mother though she is, it is
evident that she has not yet developed
into the glowing womanhood that at
present is but charmingly suggested.
Kate, my DEAR says Arthur, 'thls
is one of whom you have often heard
me speak-my old friend Monte Bird.
"And who, until the present moment
has deservedly born the title of his
bored friend'r" | add, a. with uncov-
cred head l bow low. i am aware that
the remark is not complimentary TO
Arthur, but TO that | am supremacy in
different.
With easy grace she extends her
hand.
"'BoredOm' is a word without a
meaning for us, Mr.. Bird, and we VIII
try to make it SO for YOU"
Nothing like matrimony for an anti
dote," Arthur says o%racularly.
"Surely you'are not a bachelor, Mr..
BirdP' asks Mrs. Pilton, raising her
| eyes questioning to mine-and very
sweet eyes they are, [ observe.
~ have that incalcuable misfortune"
| answer meekly.
She looks at me quite pityingly; she
evidently thinks it time for me to be
appropriated.
''I'n show you something that Will
make you foreswear celibacyl'-and
with these words Arthur gesticulates
fuTiously in the direction of a remote
part of the garden that | have not hith-
erto observed.
My eyes follow his movements, and |
discern a nurse carrying what IS cyl
IDENTIFY the hope of the Piltons-Arthur's
son and heir.
am not in the least bored now-I
am fairly alarmed. / shall have to adj
mire the phenomenon in question, and,
in my utter ignorance of the subject,
it IS quite possible that l may, in my
misapplied batteries, most unconscious
| ly satirise the weak point Of the prodigy
| feel that a cigarette will do much to
steady me.
"Do you-and your s~on-permit
smoking, Mrs. Pilton2" ask, prepar-
ing to fortify myself.
''Smoke is our native element, she
replies, smiling ~graciously. "Come to
its own mother then little treasured
1t is perhaps needless to say that |
am not the ''llttle treasure" addressed,
that fortunate individual being the in
FAINT who is surveying US with wide
open baby-eyes. He is a bright cheek
ed little fellow, and, resting as he does
in his mothers arms a minute after
wards, one is reminded of the count.
less pictures of glorious maternity and
rosy infancy that have smiled down
from exhibition walls.
HI've got a surprise for you, Ar
thur" exclaims my hostess; and l no.
tice a subdued excitement lurking in
the bright eyes. give me your finger
dear"
Her husband obeys, and she forewith
takes the offered digit. and, inserting
it softly between the rosy lips of the
baby. rubs it along the tiny gum. l.,
meanwhile, am in lost profound pity for
this small specimen of humanity, feel
ing that it must be a most undesirable
process to have ones mouth opened
and ones gums felt, and not to have
any choice in the matter.
"Well7" asks Arthur. with a blank
look of non comprehension on his face.
L seem unconsciously to have COM
municated my views to the infant, for
he begins to resist in a very marked
manner. Mrs. Pilton's lips drop at the
corners in the loveliest disdain imagi-
nable.
"Mr. Bird, will you feel?"
The baby's long suffering gum is
transferred to me, and l place my finger
very gently on the spot indicated. She
looks at me somewhat anxiously. Am
/ inspiredp | rather think l am; but l
try to wear my laurels meekly, and to
keep the triumph out of my face, as l
turn to Arthur and say
boyi"
"You don't say so. Montiel"
ooh, it's very plainly to be feltI', l
reply, with an air of superiority that
for the life of me | really cannot resist.
If it were not for the little dimpled
encumbrance with which they are laden
| am sure Mrs. Pilton would clap her
hands; as 1t is, she contents herself
with a glance of undisguised admira-
ton at me, and exclaims sorrowfully-
"And yet you are a bachelor Mr..
Birdl"
"Let me at least feel that | am pos
sessed of your compassion" | say, with
unblushing hypocrisy.
"Oh, the pity of itin she answers
lightly, throwing up her boy, and then
pressing him closer to her. Didn't
its own papa feel its new toothums?
Naughty papal"
Thereupon Master Pilton Is made to
| chastise his reyered father ON the cheek
with a round fist that has been taken
out of his mouth for that purpose.
Il suppose the little fellow seampers
about a good deal?" l suggest, Wishing
to supplement the advantages l have
already gained.
"My dear boy, babies don't ruiz about
at six months oldl" laughs Arthur; and
| think | detect a little retaliation in
his tone, As if he considers it my turn
now to be discounted.
Fearing to lose my ~laurels, | discreet
ly drop the subject.
Ny admiration for my hostess sub
sequently increases when, later on, as
we SIT down to dinner, she to all APP
pearance as entirely forgets her first
born as any lady lin society" could do.
| feel sure that in her case 1t is only APP
parent oblivion, whereas with the wo-
man of fashion it would be most genu-
inc, but it displays certain innate tact
which | highly appreciate.
We dine by daylight, and get the
meal we'll over before the cleaning be-
gins. After dinner. Mrs. Pnton does
not retire to the drawing-room, but
strolls round the garden, book In hand.
This IoOks inviting and The eOnSp-