News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1886-12-30
THOSE RED ROSES,
BY EMILY READ.
A Christmas Story.

Our Sunday school room, usually i
good order, seemed to have suffered
from an upheaval. Most of the benche
and chairs were piled into chaotic heaps
certainly not desirable to sit upon
Long ropes, stretched longitudinally
formed Rubicons that even a desperate
Caesar might hesitate to cross; and grea
heaps of kalmia, or American laurel
were piled up in the corners. A large
stove in the centre OF the room was
blowing red-hOt in the laudable ATTEMPT
to heat the atmosphere; and around il
was grouped bevy of girls still in theil
wraps, warming themselves before they
began the formidable task of making
the mass of greens into wreaths and
garlands to adOrn the church. They
were talking eagerly and somewhat in
coherently. each one more intent upon
being heard than listening to the infor-
nation impaired. They were not dis
cussing the Christmas decoratio s, but
O bit of village gossip; and there was
evidently much. to, be said -fcE-and
fagainst the people implicated.
81 don't believe it 1t is not in the
least like Mary, asserted a. girl IN a
plaid blanket shawl, pinned comfortably,
though not arfIstically, around her
shoulders.
''As if one can answer for another J
For myself, I believe the whole story,
and, what is more, under the :circum-
stances would have done precisely the
same thing"
There was a small storm Of remen-
STRANGE; for EYeleen Ewing, though she
Ooked pretty enough in her seal cap to
delude a saint, was eminently proper,
and what they were so early discussing
was Mary Sinclam's surreptitious walk
that morning with Charley More.
Charley is my far-of cousin, and l am
very fond of him, but / was not sure
with Mary, whO'Is a small heiress in her
own night, and for whom her guardian
has higher aims than an ensign in the
navy.
1t was the sight of me that broke up
the group of girls around the stove.
They did net care to discuss Charley be-
fore me; and they were at once busy in
making the laurel into wreaths. In the
midst of the cheerful hubbub the door
opened, and Mary Sinclair came in leis-
urely, bringing a great draught of cold
air with her. She seemed in no haste
to begin work, but stood warming her
self by the stove, asking questions about
the plan for the decorations and crlti-
cising those adopted, somewhat ruth
lessly.
''Why not have something new?" she
said; mot those everlasting heavy
he +hn+ mould -.
fell"
They would only ruin your bonnet.
Besides, In all these years one has never
been known 10 fall. So that there are
lots of green, l, for one, don't care how
they are put up" said Eveleen, who
was making one of the Objectionable
wreaths.
Everything in the mass suits you.
You have no eye for minutia," said
Mary, good humoredly.
Il care for small things on occasions.
Just now, for instance, Mary, you are
roasting gradually Do take off YOU
Jacket and come and bunch for me-"
Mary did as she was hidden, little
lazily. She did not seem to be much
interested in the work before her. She
Is u Eull BlIlr viii ctApC ~ bS uAC1 anu
to see her do even so simple a thing as
to hang her jacket on the peg is pleas
ure. A moment afterward she had filled
her arms with the sprigs of laurel and
deposited them on a bench by Eveleen
Then she sat down On the end of the
bench an / began to bunch the greens IN
lazy way. Evidently she was thinking
of something else. 1 was busy breaking
the branches into convenient lengths,
and was so near the two girls L could
not help overhearing what they said,
For once in my life l am glad was an
eavesdropper-
''You are not Just from home, " Eve
leen asserted rather than questioned.
''No? By the way, do You like large
or small punches. Medium Ones2
suppose most things in life one had bes
take moderately, though to do so al
ways is, don't you think, little tedi
ous2"
stMary Sinclair, I am ashamed of you
Moderately, indeed! Do You think nC
one knows how long a time you have
been walking this morningW
'sAnd down by the river which wa
imprudent, for the air is keen. But 81
was Charley for that matter. He is tired
OF all this indecision on my part, and
do not blame him"
''Tired! Has Charley given you up2'
asked Eveleen, bTeathlessly.
81 should like TO hear him say so.
would certainly be an old sensation
No, my dear, it is not that he is tired 0
me, but of the uncertainty. And ht
does not fancy the secrecy, supposed
though it be- of our meetings. | don
suppose a sailor likes to feel uncertain
on land he has so much of the sensa
tion at sea. Fancy what it must b.
never to be sure of your footingr
81 wish you would not talk nonsense
and also that you would give me bette
punches"