The Dickinson press., 1885-01-10
"MoTuER CAREY'S CUSHION"

"Now, Octavia," said Mrs. GLAND,
3do be a little careful to-day. Don't
for PHYS sake, let your wild spirits run
away with you'll" Octavia GLAND, in
her pink muslin dress, tied here and
there with jaunty little bows of ribbon,
and a straw gypsy hat garland with pink
poples, turned around, the very incar-
nation of radiant glee.
"Mamma." said she, "why should you
grudge me my little holiday? Don't I
work behind Miss Fanshaw's counter
all the year like any African slave?
Don't I lose my very identity in shirrs
and pufings, and toll my very finger
ends off with iounces and tucks? Do
let me play I am a child again, just this
once!"
So this beautiful young E%uphrosyne
danced away, leaving only the sweet
echo of her laughter in the gloomy
apartment, and Mrs. GLAND sighed.
"She is so thoughtless," said the
mother. And Duncan Ray and Harry
Bolton are both going on this sailing
party-and somehow I feel as if to-day
were to be the turning-point Of her
life. I wish she could bring herself to
like Duncan-he's a steady, noble
souled lad, as his father was before him,
but there isn't much outside show about
him. And Bottoms a dashing young
fellow, just the sort to attract any girl.
But somehow I can't quite believe in
him. Octavia says I haven't any knowl-
edge of the world. Well perhaps she
is right. But I think we quiet, stay-at-
home bodies are sometimes gifted
with a sort of an instinct in these mat
ters."
Tho day was all sparkle and sunshine;
the excursion steamer, futtering with
gay flags and the sound of music, glided
majestically along; the sea air breathed
new strength into weary lungs and
touched fevered brows with alchemic
power; and ali of these over-tired, over
worked sewing girls forgot, for a brief
while, that life was nothing more than a
tread mill to them.
They laughed, they danced, they
sang; they flung flowers into the water
that loated around the wheel-house
they counted the glimmering sails that
leaned up against the horizon; and
finally, when the boat landed at White
Cargs, they all scattered in various di-
rections e the silver-shingled beach,
in merry pursuit of shells, Served and
pebbles, as sc many newly liberated
school children might have done.
And Octavia GLAND, the prettiest girl
in all the throng, reigned as a sort of
princess among them.
Mother Carey's Cushion?" said she
merrily, echoing the words of an an
cient salt, who was mending his nets in
a sunny spot, with on old pipe in his
mouth, and a picturesque long beard
blowing about in the wind. @Is that
what they call yonder rock"
"That 'ere's what they halls her by,
lady miss" said the old sailer, his dim
eyes resting with evident appreciation
on Octavia's fresh young lilies and
roses. "And we'll it's known here
abouts."
But why do they call it so?" per-
sisted the girl.
Because of the cushion, my lady
MISS" answered the fisherman, laying
his pipe down on the sand, out of re-
spect to this charming young presence;
"and the Mother Carey's chickens as
circle round the point, of a dark day,
when there's a storm coming up. It's
a round rock, near to the top-d'ye
see?" pointing his knotty forefnger-
with grass and MOSES CROWN on it, in
a circle, like a cushion. I and my
sweetheart-as has been dead thirty
years-did once. But we didn't care to
stay there long, tell ye. For the wind
howled, and the sea-gulls shrieked, and
the tide roared like a hungry shark
around us, and it was as much as we
could do'to get down again with whole
bones"
"Why," said Bolton, ut doesn't look
such a height"
"Mebbe not-mebbe not" said the
old man. "a quarter of a mile makes
q deal O. difference, in the looks of
things. And them as amt used to dis
tances can't calculate"
And he went on with his work, while
the little group strolled on, bright o.
tavia with her ribbons and curls float
ing, Bolton carrying her shawl, and
Duncan Ray walking silently on the
other side.
And just then another gay throng
overlook them, and there was a discus
sion as to where the site should be for
their impromptu banquet; and present.
ly Duncan Ray looked around.
"Where's Octava?" he asked.
Everybody had some answer to make.
Auriette Hall had seen her not five
minutes before /; Helen Ray was quite
certain that she was hiding behind the
ruined boat-house on the edge of the
beach; Louis Fielding suggested that
she had probably gone back to the
steamer for q scent bottle, or a hand
kerchief, Or some such trifle.
"SheM be here presently" said they.
I'm the meantime, let us get the lunch
ready, for there's a dark little edge Of
cloud, down III the west, that the Cap.
tain says ne don't half like the looks
Of"
And where all this time, was Octavia
GLAND?
She was springing up the steep and
winding ledge of rock, quicker and
lighter than any mountain chamois, her
vail floating back like a white wreath OF
mist, an exquisite scarlet dying her
check