The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1885-06-19
AN ESCRIT0IRE.
BY ROSE AUBURN.

(which do you like best: John ?"
Brown-eyed, brown-haired Phoebe
Woldemere had laid two strips of lilac
silk across her lovers knee as she sat on
An ottoman at his feet.
There appeared very little difference
in the shade or quality, but there was a
difference and very important one it
seemed to Phoebe; for whichever John
Rose decided upon, her wedding dress
was to be selected from.
So she watched the stalwart, blonde
fellow quite breathlessly as he took up
the shimmering bits of silk and exam
med them.
But he laid them down without speak
ing.
(Which do you prefer, John? I shall
get whichever you like best, said Phoe-
be anxiously.
"My little GIRL" said John Rose,
gently, II am afraid there is to be no
wedding"
"No wedding," repeated Phoebe, with
wide eyes.
"Listen, dear"
And as leniently as possible, the
young man went on to describe his faith
er's wrong against himself; but the
truth was, that the home which should
have been his-which he had earned
twice over since he had been of age
had been gambled away by the vicious
old man; and alliate the matter as he
would, the cruel facts remained to
hang cloud upon his brow and
pale Phebe's happy bloom.
He regarded her silently and sadly,
while her thoughts went back to her
melancholy mothers prediction that "no
good would ever come of her engage
ment to John Rose; he came of bad
blood"
There was not bit of truth in it, for
she had been very happy for two years;
and there was not fault of his we'll
known father or grandfather's which
had been repeated in John. They had
both been terrible warnings to him
only.
II believed the house and farm mine,
Phoebe. I Thought had home to take
you to, DEAR" the young man went on;
but the place is mortgaged for nearly
all that it is worth. My father has kept
up the deception for years. Last even
ing he told me ALL"
He gave her the details, but they
seemed to matter little. Johns home
was gone, or nearly so; and, as he said,
there would be no wedding.
81 may get it back into my hands in
time, Phoebe. am going to try. But
it must be long time. VIII you waltz"
'Of course will wait, John"
Fortunately you are very young,
sweetheart" he said, and laid strong,
carressing hand ON the soft, waving
hair.
1--WE have been waiting two years
now, John," Phoebe said, with faint |
smile.
How cruel it had been He had been
working hard to change, embellish and
furnish the house-that was all gone
now-and Phoebe had had her little
trials with faithless mother.
What poor reward and dismal end
ing for both
"If had not lived there all my life;
f"-his voice faltered tiny mother had
not died there, / would give it up.
But must try and get it back"
"How long will it take, John ?"
al can not tell There's the rub, for
can not see my way clear at present
20 do it at ALL"
The two talked late into the night.
The next day John returned home,
or he lived some ten miles out of town,
md returned by the train.
But that day package came to
'hebe's hand-quite a heavy, square
turned out to be hand
ONE writing desk, with an accompany ,
ng note: t.
"MY DEAR PHGBE: Before leaving chanced
1to some auction rooms and bid OF this es-
rittoire which was going shamefully cheap
is very nice, and looks very old thought O
on would like it, and thought would like
, have you have it to writo letters to me on.
! am, my little treasure, forever yours"
JOHN RosE
The box was of solid mahogany, lined
18th red satin, a little faded. but care
lily preserved, and smelling delicate u
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