The Penn's Grove record., 1885-09-12
matter the time or place, remem-

Pilton near, T" but she actually enters
the rooml
For once in my life l am energetic; L
Utterly bound from my chair in my ut
ter astonIshment.
Yes, verify Kate Pilton-no longer
the Juno in embryo, but the Juno in
full perfection, as she steps into the
room with stately grace, her long cling
ing black skirt trailing majestically be-
hind. a sorrowful looking cap, white
as snow, rests on the queenly head, but
all the rich beauty that was so freely
promised two years ago has been amply
fulfilled in the glorious creature who
stands before me in the sad dignity of
her young ~widowhood.
"Is it possible,"I exclaim, as ] adj
vance with extended hands to welcome
her, ''or do my eyes deceive me? II
surely am addressing Mrs. Pilton2"
None other,'' she answers, with a /
smile as charming as formerly, though
more subdued; land in you l recog-
| niZe-p
"Montie Bird, Arthur's old friend,
whom hope you have not quite for
gotten.'
81 had quite forgotten the name"
she replies, ''but not the owner of it.
My husband used to esteem you so
highly.n
We neither speak for a minute. The
little word fused" only confirms the
sad story told by the deep black that
fits her graceful figure 50 perfectly. II
conduct her at once to the breakfast
table, and she takes her place quite
naturally, facing me.
skNV hnV, kr,1Ixy an rnao ~, n,f e,.Isant l
| am Il pitlful stumbler in the choice of
words; but, please, Mrs. Pilton, try to
understand how delighted | am to see
you again, however much / regret the
sad circumstances that have led TO our
meeting"
She inclines her head in acknowledge
ment of my sympathy.
"And your little boy? He Is a tine
fellow by this time l c~Oncludep" | re-
mark, wishing to turn the subject from
a painful channel.
The sweet lips culver as she raises |
her eyes, full of a mute agony, to mine.
THE same calamity fever-that
left me a widow also rendered me child.
less; they both--I would rather not
speak of 1T just yet, if you please"
She could make mention of her hus-
band with apparent calmness; but the
loving remembrance of baby-kisses,
baby-prattle, busy baby-hands, sllences
all speech, even the speech of sorrowl
After recovering herself, she avoids
further mention of their trials, and
speaks pleasantly and cheerfully, just
as a woman should do to a mar just
returning from the fatigues Of the
workaday outside world.
"Mrs. Hilton,"I remark, as on the
conclusion of breakfast, we draw our
chairs round to the fire, ''have you ever
in your infantine days, read the Ara.
bian Nights?"
"'Read' is too mild a world have
deyoured them," she laughingly an
swers; ''but l always thought, had |
been Sch~eherazade, l would rather have
lost my heed at once than have TO rack
that unlucky member every night for
fresh marvels."
81 fear that you scarcely appreciate
the philanthropy of that excellent
young lady in saving the lives of SO
many of her charming sex. But, do
you know, by some mysterious agency,
[ could feel myself transported to the
land of caliphs, v~iziers, and Mussul-
mans, and even by some still more ex.
traordinary freaks of nature l could be-
lieve myself returning to the times of
giants, fairies, and genii. The idea is
so vivid that it required the merest
stretch of imagination just now to
transform James, when he came ID
with that letter, to a slave bearing me
| ~sherbet.n
"How SOP" asks my lady-house-
keeper.
How charmingly she undertakes the
art of ~listeningl
swell, do you remember how a GER.
tain Bedredden Hassan, of Oriental
memory, was restored to his sorrowing
relatives through the manufacture of
his celebrated cheesecakesp"
Mrs. Pilton mods in token of assent.
'Strange to say, your admirable pasty
formed to me a veritable e-introduc'
tion to you"
"Why, Of course; the similarity is
strlkfngI The fact is, Pm a nineteenth
century Bedreddin Hassan, and, like
him, l am the sole manufacturer, the
only difference being that do pepper
my pastry. I nearly offended your
cook when 1 insisted upon making it
myself"
"You actually bearded the lionness
in ner denp"
81 did indeed, my only weapons be.
ing the protest compliments | could
think of concerning her dinners and
luncheons; after that, she asked
me for my receipt; but | could
not give that up,' says Mrs. Pllton
shaking her pretty head until the sor-
rowful white adornments it tremble
with her emphasis. II am like Bed.
reddin Hassan, and keep that to my
SELF"
"Do YOU KNOW" l exclaim, a happy
thought striking me 81 am altogether
so much impressed with the circum'
stances of our second meeting that |
think Ill write out the history of Mrs.
Pilton's pastry" So saying a crave per-
mission to light a cigarette, and begin
thinking 1t out at once.
y = y
And here it is written--in fact, it
has been finished some time; but an
ending came to the whole story which
makes the resemblance to B~edreddin
Hassan cease. If my memory does not
lead me astray, Bedreddin Hassan mar
ries before the cakes are mentioned,
while l. Here a soft hand is laid
my shoulder and two laughing eyes
C the above unfinished sentence.
"Can't you get on, you silly old
Montie2''
well, you KNOW" l reply medita-
lively, pulling my moustachs with one
hand and holding my pen with the
other, ''there is an absurd prejudice
among the narrow-minded against Sec
ond marriage; So"
"Well, tell them then, you great big
coward. that second marriages have
been successes, from the days Of Jacob
downwards, and impress upon your
readers-if you have any-that Kate
Bird is the very happiest woman in ex.
istence. 1t is true, my own dear hus
band;" and my Kate's ripe lips are
pressed to mine.
aaxunn kru1y pnhla aannaf ha In .