Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1888-01-05
A HAPPY QUARREL.

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village, all in q culver of newly ac-
CURED information. 1t was always she
who brought in any stray bit of news
or gossip. John never seemed to hear
anything. As Miss Nicola sagely OBJ
served, ''he always lived with his nose
in a book.
What does it matter to me-" said
Miss Nicola, "what they did in the days
of King Jameses or Julius Caesar? I'm
a great deal more interested in what is
go no on to-day at Nottingham or Lille
Bridge"
She was a trim, neatly-dressed per-
son of middle age with beady, black
eyes, short black curls that danced and
trembled with every movement that
she made, and great fancy for wear
ing pink or blue ribbons-a sort of
assertion, perhaps, that she was not
yet past the age of bright colors and
girlish costumes. To-day she carried
a little market-basket in her hand.
She had been buying sweetbreads and
asparagus for dinner.
Mr.. Whyte looked up from his desk.
He had an extensive correspondence
with Continental philologists, and was
preparing to send out a batch of letters
by the next mail.
"The Brandon Cottage" said he,
rubbing his hand over the forehead
that, in spite of his tive-and-fortv
years, was still fair and smooth. "Oh,
i am sorryr'
80 am IT, said Nicola. "Nobody
knows how much I've enjoyed the
strawberries of the garden, and the
roses from the great portico BUSH"
81 wasn't thinking of that" said her
brother.
you never do think of anything
practical, !" retorted Nicola, parenthe-
tically.
But it's the quiet of the thing that
shall MISS" sighed John, examin.
ing the point of his fountain-pen. ''Of
course it's family with nine small
children at the least"
You're wrong there" observed his
sister. ''lt's gentleman with one
daughter-a gentleman who has come
here for his health. l saw an old
woman cleaning the front steps, as ]
came by, and white rabbit jumping
about the lawn"
Good for the rose-trees and shrubsw
drily remarked Mr.. Whyte.
IL shall speak to them, and beg them
to keep the horrid little nuisance on
their own side of the fence, said Nicola
Il can't have my young plum-trees
and sweet-scented shrubs all nibbled
bare. They've got parrot, too; it
screams awfully."
well, let it scream. 1t can't
scream louder than Mrs. Jennings
baby did when they lived there" said
Mr.. Whyte.
.Humph" said Nicola. II rather
think YOU II find it can. Pm so sorry
the house is let /"
so am !, said her brother. "How-
ever, there's no use in going halfway
to meet ones troubles-so, if you please
Nicola, I'll proceed with my letter.
Meanwhile, the jewellers in the little
Gothic cottage, embowercd with elms
and braided about with trails of ivy,
were equally the subject of interest and
discussion between Mr.. Delacroix and
his daughter Corinne.
Papa, said Corinne, 1--WE seen the
neighbors-a single gentleman and his
sister. She looks dreadfully prim and
dried up, but he's quite handsome; and
they have such superb Irish setterl'
"Yes?" said Mr.. Deacroix.
He was an amateur artist in a small
way, and his present absorbing occupa-
ton was the arrangement of canvases,
lay figures, and portfolios in the room
he had selected for studio.
But the dog barks every time
70 tai -
frightened out Of her senses, said the
girl.
''Paquita must get used to it,"
81 hope he won't worry dear little
Bunny sighed Corinne.
Bunny must keep on his own side
of the fence, absently observed Mr..
Delacroix.
Corinne shook her head-a round,
piquant little head, trimming over
with dark curls. She had soft limpid
eyes, Swallowed with long lashes, a
straight expressive nose, and the
sweetest of cherry mouths, which, be.
tween laughing, talking, and solilo-
quising, was seldom shut long enough
to trace its perfect Cupid-bow of
scarlet.
Il wish we hadn't any neighbors'
cried She.
"My dear child" solemnly remon.
strated her father, ''do you expect to
live on a desert isand?"
Corinne laughed.
81 don't mind for myself" said she;
"but it's Bunny-and Paquita and the
dreadful white and tan dog. Pm sure,
between them all, we shall get into
some scrape!'
Col'inne's prophecy came true. They
had lived scarcely two weeks in the
Brandon cottage when matters came to
q crisis.
Paquita. escaped from the gilded
chain and ring, carried her investiga.
tons into the Whyte garden.
Nero, in chasing her from his
rigutful domains, pulled a mouthful
of grey-and-green feathers out of her
tail
Bunny girdled the choice new rose
tree which had just been set out in the
center of Mr.. Whyte's lawn, and made
a meal off the tall white deutzia bush.
Miss Whyte's maid presented her
mistress compliments, and they
couldn't stand that nuisance of rabbit
any longer
Old Selma came back with ''Mr.
Delacroix's respects, and nobody in the
house could sleep for that dogs per-
petual barking at night.
Il had intended to CALL" said John
Whyte; "but as this unlooked-for cool
ness has arisen, it is perhaps better
to keep my distance"
I'm told that Mr.. Whyte is a very
cultivated person, said Mr.. Delacroix;
.'but this petty quarrelling is unworthy
a gentleman or SdUant"
One day Mr.. Whyte found Nicola
drowned in tears. The rabbit had
lunched off her pet Brazilian tree, and
torn up all the japanese lily-buds in
the border.
This won't do" said John.
He was soft-hearted man, and the
sight of Nicolas tears spurred him on
to sudden vengeance.