The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1886-04-22
the incorrigible girl, ethan nothing at

duIlllU IIbU YOU uttlCcu ike u Dbll VI
fire-like q golden butterfly on the
wind"
81 don't know how we'll that would
be. But that's the way l like to hear
you talk: SO I'll reward you. Look
here"
1t was u basket of the most superb
orchids that l ever saw, priceless
| affair, from which she drew the scarf
she had thrown over it.
"With Mr.. Dunrobin's compliments.
Eth? He has seen mo you see."
"Well, then"
"Well, then, this morning Jeanette
Dean is going to mount her hunter and
leap five barred gates and things;
shall let her do it. And Laura Stock.
wood is going to drive into town shop.
ping; she'll 90 alone. And Elsa and
| Caro- are going to the woods; let them
go. am going to find Mr.. Dunrobin
and to thank him just as sweetly and
modestly as q little mill1mad-I do
write such a bad hand! And then
am going to get my water-colors and
60 out on the rocks. l sha'n't do
much sketching, every man in the
house will be down on those rocks,
Then am coming up to read with
you-that means get q nap and then
lunch. And after that drive with Mr..
| Vonderbust, and later sail with Mr.
Kilgore, and then it's dinner, and
then talking and promenading on the
piazza, and then the concert and sup.
per. That's We'll, them And to,
morrow there's the archery and the
picnic to the Wells and the yachting
out to Red Reef Light"
"For gracious sake, Bette, day after
day, it will kill you!"
"You can't stop. You have to keep
it up. Stay to rest and you're like
the dead man in battle-the others
walk over your body"
'tDoes it pay you really, BETTER"
at will pay. Don't you know how
love ease, beauty, splendor, luxury,
fine houses, equipages, gardens. laces,
Jewels, bank accounts? Well, that is
what l play for. My little pittance
would board ME in q country town.
l had rather die. So throw it all at
one toss-heads l win, tails you lose.
| shall have not basket OF orchids,
but an orchidhouse. was made for
it all. l perish in any other atmos-
phere. 1t isn't like girl that wants
money merely for the sake OF money.
l want it for the sake of living, living
my own life"
It was Mr.. Dunrobin with whom
Bette was promenading the piazza
that evening after dinner, and before
the concert and the dancing. He
wasn't dancing man; he was only a
millionaire, we'll born and educated,
a quiet, middle aged gentleman of unas.
Stunning manners. She flashed me a
glance as she passed that might have
put out the evening star. He sat be-
side her at the concert; he went with
her next morning to the archery; he
rode beside her all the way to the
Wells; he sat beside her as they sailed
to the Red Reef Light. He walked
with her the next day after dinner.
but this time they stepped down and
away from the lighted piazza, down
the pebbly walk, down the rocks and
out on the sands and along the beach
in the starlight. When Bette came
in she was drenched with dew; but she
looked divlnely happy-too divinely
happy to notice the dark disapproval
on the brOws of all the mammals.
And thenext morning Mr.. Dunrobin
was gone-he and his trunks, and his
horses, and his yacht and his man. 1t
was little yellow wreck of Bette that
came into myroom and threw herself,
face down, on my lounge, and sobbed
out the story.
"Well'' l said, soothingly, feeling it
no time for u homily, and pitying the
little wretch for all, ''there are plenty
left" -r' -
"There's nobody" she cried. ''There's
nobody. I'd just as lief you'd know
it as not. II love him! And oh,
the worst of this is, deserve it! But
can't let these people see. l must 60
on just the same. "I'll put little
rouge on. My hearts broken. Tni
dead, dead, dead. l shall look in the
glass while Pm doing it, though, and
say to myself, And Bette, give this
cheek touch of red; one need not, sure,
look ugly, though ones dead But
let me hide here this morning. Have
you got any xouge?"
Nobody would have dreamed that
Bette was disappointed, broken.
hearted, dead, or anything of the sort
that night. She was recklessly, des-
perately gay. Dancing on the edge oil
the volcano, she called it. And SO
she was the next night, and the next,
and for a week running, till all the
chaperons in the house were getting
wild about her and expostulating with
me-and that was the way l learned
that was supposed to be her chaper'
on-and l couldn't think where it
would end. And then she went to bed
sick for a couple of days, and then ]
said to myself that this was the end,
anyway. And then one morning, when
thought she was in bed still, and was
just getting ready to 60 and see her,
she burst into my room, radiant, rosy
as a peach, fresh as new-blown flow.
err, and caught me, and covered my
old face with caresses. "Oh, | must
kiss somebody" cried she. 'And he
isn't here. And must tell you. ]
can't let anybody see it, actually see
it, it's too precious!"
And it was e. letter from Mr.. Dun
robin, and in it he told her frankly
that he had run away from her, if she
chose to call it SO, because he felt there
would be no happiness for him, or her
either, in q marriage with such differ
ence in age and taste and temporal
ment. And now he had discovered
that there could beno happiness with
out it. And he was coming back to
learn his fate.
"Oh!" she cried, bursting into tears,
cts perfectly dreadful that Pm SO
wicked. Pm not fit for him! Idon't
deserve him! I.ought to be punished
shall be-oh, I shall be! i shall tell
him everything. shall tell him just
how l maneuvred and schemed and
plotted and"
"Bettie, it will finish everything"
"It ought to. l can't help it if it
does. / won't let him take me believ-
ing Pm all Pm not. If there's anoth-
err world, he wouldn't know me in it.
And, oh, Pm afraid he wouldn't want
to! Oh, isn't it too bad | should be SO
wicked, when I'd die to do him good
And perhaps the best good l can do
him is to de-"