The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1886-08-14
How They First Met.

and replenish the fire; this November
weather is rather chilly
And Mr.. Robert Burton settled him
self in his office chair, lit cigar, ele
vated his feet, and proceeded to read
his letter, which ran thus:
sMY DEAR BROTHER: :-Of course you
are coming home for Thanksgiving. We
ire all expecting you, and if you should
take it into your head to disappoint us,
we should never forgive you; so be
good boy and drop US card telling us
when to expect you. Sue Langdon and
Nellie Cole will be here-and, Bob, just
to think of it, Ivy Blondette has prom
ised to come. She is the charming lit
tie widow spoke of in my last letter.
awfully rich, and as sweet as a June
rose. She is just the girl for you, Bob,
and l have set my heart on calling her
sister, but 1 can trust her to captivate
you, if you will only bring yourself with
in range of her wonderful eyes. Please
write Immediately, and say you will
come. Your loving sister,
ooh, pshaw!' calculated Bob, as he
impatiently tossed the letter aside.
when will that precious sister of mine
learn that there is no use in exercising
her matchmaking proclivities for my
benefit? A widow, indeed! No, thank
you, Miss Jennie, not any 'relicts' for
me-.
And the next evening poor Jennie
Burton sat in her room and cried over
the following curt little note from her
idolized but perverse and wllful brother:
sDEAR JEN:-Glad to hear tina. you
are going to have the charming widow
to help you demolish the Thanksgiving
turkey, but regret to say that my turkey
is already spoken for in another direc-
ton. l have received an urgent letter
from Aunt Martha, requesting me to
come to her house for Thanksgiving,
and l have written her to expect me
because, you see, Jen, there will not be
any widows running around in her house
to bother fell. Yours gratefully,
Bob
1t was II p. M, on the night before
Thanksgiving, when the train paused
for moment at little station and a
solitary passenger alighted, and started
off through the trees at brisk pace.
1t was our friend Bob, and at the end
of fifteen minutes he emerged from the
shadow of the trees and walked lightly
across the smooth lawn that lay in front
OF Aunt Martha'o quaint, old-fashioncd
country home. 1t was long, low, one
story farm house, covering liberal al
lowance of ground, and with wide We
randa running around two sides of it.
Bob paused as he approached the house,
and scanned the windows for some sign
of light, but there was none. Had the
sky been clear, the moon would have
been shining brightly, but mass Of
clouds hid her shining face, and damp,
gray mist seemed settled down over the
house and lawn.
sOf course Aunt Martha is not ex-
| pecting me tonight soliloquized Bob.
| sShe has been in bed, and sound asleep
for the last two hours, and l II not waken
her at this time of night, if l have to
sleep in the hayloft. But let me see;
the second window from the corner IS
the one that opens out of my old room.
| l ought to know that, for l have climb
ed in and out of it thousand times.
| Now, if it isn't fastened too securely,
I'm climb in once more, take possession
of the high posted old bed, and astonish
auntie by walking into the breakfast
room in the morning.
Suiting the action to the word, he
stepped lightly upon the veranda and
approached the designated window. The
shutters were not closed, and broken
pane of glass rendered it easy for him
| to undo the time-worn fastenings.
sHow careless Aunt Martha is; it is a
wonder that she has not been robbed
long ago., was his mental comment as
he gently raised the window and stepped
over the sill.
The window was small and heavily
curtained, and so little light penetrated
through it that minute elapsed before
his eyes were sufficiently accustomed to
the darkness to enable him to distin-
guish the familiar outlines of the old
fashioned bedstead and the huge bureau,
that had stood close to the head of the
bed ever since he could remember. 10
this latter article of furniture he first
groped his way, and began searching Tor
the matchbox that was always kept
there.
mo matches, but the whole bureau
strewn with hair pins-what can 1t
mean? I never knew auntie to keep
her hair pins in this room!'
Then, as he could find no matches,
he went round to the head of the bed
and put out his hand to turn down the
covers, but, surely, it was neither quilts
nor pillows upon which his hand rested.
No, it was long, thick, soft braid OF
hair, and, as poor Bob realized this fact,
it seemed to him that his heart had sud-
denly taken up its abode in his throat,
while cold chills and hot flushes seemed
chasing each other up and down his
spinal column. A woman's hair on his
pillow Now Bob was naturally quick
at forming conclusions, and it took him
scarcely three seconds to decide that
there was doubtless feminine head al
one end of that long, soft, braid; and,
as he was not in France, and the Reign
of Terror was thing of the past, why
naturally, he concluded that the head
and the hair were not there alone.
| 1t was this startling conclusion thai
caused him to take a quick step back
ward, with the intention of evacuatine
the premises as hastily as possible, bu
unfortunately, for this wise resolve, hi
feet suddenly became entangled in some
long, voluminous garments that were
thrown across chair in front of tht
bed, and in his clumsy efforts to extri
cate his pedal extremities from th'
mysterious net into which they hat
strayej, he somehow lost his balance
and went over backward coming dowi
| with the unfortunate chair uDOn the car