Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1886-08-05


leaning out of the window, rs they
neared the graystone portico in front,
every column drared in glossy green
ivy 1T will make beautiful pict.
ure.'
DO YOU think so ?'said Miss Hawkes.
smiling. 'Wait until you see the
southern elevation it is still prettier
and more picturesque.
The housekeeper, old Hannah, came
smiling and courtesying to the door
but she stared little us Mr.. Wayte,
springlng first from the carriage, assist
ed her youn G mistress to descend.
If you please, men, quoth she,
where's the young gentleman p
This 'ere's the young gentleman,
Hannah = cried Ralph from his box,
converting laugh into very explo-
sive species of cough.
And Hannah remembered the little
cranberry tart she had just baked on an
"A. B. c. tin platter 'for the dear lit
tie orphan boy
The blue room, uannah,' said Miss
Hawkes., biting her lip, to repress her
amusement at the old woman's face of
astonishment.
.Yes'm-to be sure, 'um, said Han
nah. Dear, dear how strange things
does turn out y
How much pleasanter was the tete-a-
tete dinner than anything Alice had
dared to anticipate the long, cocfi-
Dental chat in the drawing-rOom after
ward. Ald the young man himself
evidently enjoyed it as much rs she
did.
Il did not expect such reception rs
this he said when the evening was
well advanced, and they began to feel
quite like old friends.
why not p
'One reason is that you are rich and
am poor.'
No reason at ALL. said Alice. color
ing hotly.
And l am destined to cam my liye-
lihood as an artist
well, what then ? l would like to
be an artist, were 1 man. 1t seems to
me one of the most beautiful and poet
ic occupations one could choose
DO you really think SO p
OF course do
Alice's eyes sparkled-her mind was
electrically reused by contact with one
rlper and richer than itself.
1T will be very pleasant, 'she thought
leaning back in her chair, hor crochet
needle idly threading its way through
the meshes of colored wool. lie is so
handsome and so gentle-though l
wonder why he don't speak more of his
mothers recent loss. Perhaps the
wound still bleeds. What will Kate
Jennings say p
But, just as these thoughts passed
through her mind there came prodig-
ious jerking and pealing at the front
door bell.
1T can't be Kate at this time of
night. thought Miss Hawkes..
1t was not Miss Jennings, but the
station master of the depot, clumsy,
looss-j -jointed chap, with saucer eyes
and square chin, which he was per-
petually feeling, as if not quite certain
of its locality.
IF you please, Miss Hawkes., I've
brought him, said Jabez SHADES. His
trunks I'll be sent round tomorrow
morDin'.'
whom p gasped Alice.
'Him-and glad enough we be to see
the last on him Like to set the depot
fire, snow balled hole in the windy
and tied tin pail to old Bose's tail y
And as ne spoke he pushed forward
an ungainly boy of about twelve green
springs-a freckled, sullen Keyed. heavy
looking lad, with both paws thrust in
to his trousers pockets and his chin
sunk on his breast.
Alexander Adolphus Wayte, mum
that's the way he was labeled on his
trunks. TO be called for by Miss
Hawkes. and the very time you were
there 1 was larruping' him down in
the cellar for comm that there game
on Bose, as has been station dog these
three years. And l calculate that ere
was the way missed ye.'
Alice gazad hopelessly from the
gawky boy to the stylish young artist
opposite. He rose.
Il thought there was some mistake, ,
he said, reluctantly. you are Miss
Hawkes. ? supposed you to be Miss
Glenfeid. who has sent for me to paint
picture of Glenfield Hail.
And I thought you were my cousin
Adolphus Wayte, left in my charge by
his mother, stammered poor Kate.
MY name is Wayte-Gerald Wayte
but my mother, thank heaven. is still
living and thank you, Miss Haw-
kes, for your hospitality
You are not going away to night p