St. Landry democrat., 1885-02-28

HAS Rose come YET? one asheu,
eagerly as Miss Merrivale helped her of
with her coat.
eyes, love, she has" said Miss Mer-
rivale; ssand she's been saying such odd |
things. You have quarrled, haven't
NO" said little Mrs. Millet. .'Rose
and 1 quarrel? I don't think we
could"
:.she's in dreadful temper said
Miss Merrivale, ''and such things as
she said-quite abusive; that-but
mustn't make mischief. "
sOh, want to, know what it is,
said Phemie. II don't believe Rose
could abuse me. Perhaps I've hurt her
by not calling this week. "
...Well," said Miss Merrivale, ''she
said marrying had changed you dread
fully, and that you were spiteful' and
said things behind peoples backs you
dare not say to their faces; and hate
to tell, but it made my blood boil-that
she was glad she never tried to lead
man on, as you did your husband. |
couldn't help crying out-oh, what a
shamer'
"Why, refused dear Ned three times
before accepted him." cried Picnic.
81 did, indeed; she knows it. !"
.She says you boast of it, but she
don't believe it." said Miss Merrivale.
eve done with Rose Granger" said
Phemie. s'Whom can you trust? Oh,
it dreadful
'Indeed, it is, dear; but only what
you must expect in this world, sighed
Miss Merrivale.
That evening the two brides did not
speak to each other. That night each
husband heard the story. The Changers
thenceforth cut the Millets the Millets
the Changers. All the old schoolgirl
vows were forgotten, and Miss Merll-
vale reioiced in her contemplate bit OF
revenge. She married the small sta
TONER, and even waited on Mrs. Granger
and Mrs. Millet from behind the
counter, but she was glad to see the
| ladies turn their backs on each other
when they met in the store; and when
ever she desired to give one OF those
pleasant digs SO delightful to spiteful
woman to either of the now-separated
friends, she did it under the guisee OF re-
peating an observation made by the
the other. So the feud grew and
strengthened until the two women hated
each other as only those who have once
been friends can hate.
Meanwhile. the years few by and
changed the girls to plump and sub
stantial matrons-each had been blest
with children-their eldest hopes both
boys. Pretty, little fellows, one ten
wears Of age, the other eleven. who were
forbidden, under penalty of maternal
displeasure and paternal correction, to
speak to, play OF even look at each
other.
But little Ned Granger and little Will
Millet could scarcely help meeting, more
especially when in winter time the
skating pond tempted every boy in
Winchester to its polished surface. On
these cold days, when the ice is at its
best, they, muffied in furs and tippets,
often Joined in the same little group,
or went down the long pond hand In
| hand.
Often and often in after days the poor
mothers vainly wished that, whatever
else they had permitted, they had for
| hidden this; for one day, when Winches-
ter pond bore less solid covering of ice
than usual, these two children, their
hands meeting in forbidden clasp, flew
gayly over the surface toward the little
spot where, in the summer time, the
Water-lilies hid themselves. They never
returned. When their" long absence
aroused alarm and search was made,
the ice was found bro zen and there,
amid the long, frozen stems of last
years water-lilies, were found the two
poor children, quite dead, their frozen
hands still linked together as they had
gone down.
Strangers forced their hands apart,
but not before the mothers had seen
them so clasped. 1t was sight never
to be forgotten.
/ There was grief in two households
and the children lay in their little graves,
not far from each other, in the quiet
cemetery.
And here, in the twilight of a spring
day, Mrs. Granger went one day to
weep over the sod that had begun to
grow green above her boy. Long she
sat, silently dropping her tears upon it,
when the slow rustic of woman S trail
ing dress fell on her ear. She looked
up. A lady, clad in such black gar
ments as she wore herself, had passed
her and fallen on her knees beside an,
other grave not far away. 1t was Mrs
Millet. Roses little Willie lay here
Phemie's little Eddie rested there. A
they were ladies together, married il
the same church, so they were mourn
ing mothers weeping over the graves O
their first-born side by side, and {
strange fate had united their children il
their dying moments.
Rose felt borne away by power owe
which she had no control. She arose