The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1886-11-26

fact ] know you do. "
Here | was making o simpleton of
myself again. | might have known
she would not tell me after that but
did not understand woman-kind as
well then as have learned to do since.
30, you do know" she said, coolly,
but with merry twinkle in her eye.
"Then of course there is no need of my
telling you
"No, / didn't mean it, Kittie," 4
said, penitently. "Butdo you love me?
will you answer me, yes or noPn
YES or no" she answered, demure-
".
30, Kittie Markham, you will drive
me crazyr' exclaimed. impatiently.
why. what have / donep" with the
most innocent look imaginable.
Done" / exclaimed, mpetuously
''You know, Kittie, love you better
than my life and you will not give me
the slightest satisfaction as to whether
you love me or not"
"Wel, now see here DR.. Will" she
said, with laugh, throwing down her
work, and stepping through the low
window into the piazza, Il II tell you
what | will do, if you will promise
never to ask me again"
81 will promise any thing if you will
only give me an honest answer, / said,
eagerly.
eff you can catch me before | reach
the elm tree | will give you candid
answer upon my honor"
bumped my head against the win
| dow-sash and nearly pitched headlong
from the piazza in my haste, and away
| went racing over the lawn with ten
times more eagerness than | ever dis
played in playing "catch'' in my boy
hood days.
A very dignified proceeding, surely,
for staid Md; all the gossips in Gull
verton would have held up their hands
in pious horror, had they seen me.
| But my whole energies were bent upon
catching that flying gypsy; and catch
her did before she was half way to
the elm tree. "Now for the answer?"
| said, eagerly.
" Oh, but can't you wait until l
catch my breathe" drawing it in quick,
spasmodic jerks like some dilapidated
old steam-engine. "Let me see, what
was it promised to tell you?'
whether you love me or not, you
provoking little WITCH" said, fairly
out of patience.
CHOW look here, Dr. Will, if you
don't stop calling me names | won't
| tell you at all, though, perhaps, that is
love talk, is it?'' and with a provoking
ly arch glance.
80, Kittie! now do be reasonable;
you promised fairly on your honor"
" Did l? Well, you mustn't hurry
me or can not tell at all-you see it
will take some time to think over all
the objects of my affections to see it
you are among them. Let me see'-
beginning to count on her fingers in q
provokingly leisurely manner" there
is old Chloe, that's one, and Prince =
though he hurt your arm, you know
he makes two, and old Brindle is three.
and Watch is four, and-let's see-yes,
there is Dir. Willard Campbell is five"
think | never stopped to thank her
for that answer, and if my return to
the parlor was not as rapid as my exit
from it, it was certainly more digni-
fed. l had taken my hat and was out
of the gate before Kittie reached the
house.
went home in no very enviable
state of mind resolved | would never
60 near her again. 81 had been made
fool of long enough" | said, say
agely to myself. But my anger had
cooled considerably by the time
reached my office, and commenced to
study andplan anew-just as had done
q hundred times before chow | could
outwit this provoking little elf. Have
her l would, but how? that was the
question.
GA letter for you, doctor, called out
a voice at the door, and Hal Manners
tossed it upon the table. ''No, thank
you, to my invitation to come in, "Tm
in hurry"
picked up the letter and tore it
open, caring very little what its con-
tents might be, but the first few lines
fixed my attention. 1t was from an
uncle of mine-a physician in a flour
ishing Western city-makikg me very
advantageous offer if l would come and
take his place. 1t was just the situa-
ton | had been wishing for, and |
hailed i~with delight now. "But Kit
tie, " | thought, ''could 1 leave her?"
A moments reflection showed me it
was just what was needed; if she really
cared for me, my absence would make
her willing to acknowledge it. 1t
took but short time to make my
arrangements; by night they were all
completed Next morning L called at
Deacon Markham's, on my way to
the station, to bid Kittie goodbye. l
could see the little witch did not be-
lieve one word of the story l told her.
81 hope, viii, you won't break your
arm on the journey, it Would make it
so bad for you," she said, with q queer
smile, as | concluded.
"And you not by to cure il, | re-
torted. ''But seriously, Kittie, I'm in
earnest now. 1t is probable shall not
see you again for years, for if like the
situation | shall remain there
She still believed it some trick, for
her eyes said, plainly: You can't cheat
me again. And she said goodbye as
coolly as if the parting were only for q
day. Ipassed out of the gate feeling
much as think Adam did when he
left Paradise, except that his Eve went
with him, and / left mine behind.
was well pleased with the situation and
was not long in accepting my uncle's
| proposals. | wrote to this effect to Hal
Manners deputizing him to dispose of
my property at Culverton. l knew
Kittie would hear of it, and it would
| give her to understand that I had no
intention of returning.
Three days later followed the letter
determined if | did not succeed this
time l would give her up forever,
though my heart was sore at. the
thought
1t was just at twilight of pleasant
September day when | reached Culver
ton. Direct to Deacon Markham's |
took my way, saying over to myself as
/ went-''now or never Straight up
the gravel walk, across the broad
piazza | went and on into the dusky