The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1888-02-25
CHAPTER IL.

1t was week or two later March was
nearly over; the clouds put on their white
spring dress, and sailed by happily across
skies that were blue again; the water danced
and sparkled IN the sunshine, beat merrily
against the gray old stones of the Hard,
and rejoiced in the good time coming.
Excited children appeared, stumbling over
the stones, talking vociferously to basket
laden, umbrella-laden, shawl aud wrap and
cloak-laden elders. Fine ladies in wide
crinolines came tripping daintily by. Lazy
young men, with their hands in their pock-
cts, sauntered down with an air of indiffer-
ence. The Hard was gay again.
Cass was the gayest Of the gay. She
found funds of mirth in every ones every
day jokes. She stood in the doorway
and took an unAagging interest in every
thing that passed around her; raised the
laugh against the careful pleasure-seeker
who stayed to bargin with the boatmen;
sent the shaft of satire after the parsimo-
NOUS who departed; Joined volubly in every
conversation; took decided side in every
quarrel; and proved to the meanest intelli.
gence that her heart was light and her in
terest in life keen.
IF she suffered she made no sign. She
had creed of womahly virtures-a creed
with strange omission and certain out-of.
date beliefs writ large. To love man
who scorned her love was shameful thing
"a thing to be hustled away out of sight,
ignored, laughed down, forgotten as soon
as possible. That her face crimsoned when
Jim looked at her, that her pulses throbb-
ed when he touched her hand by chance
in passing, that her heart sank and all her
being seemed to ache when he turned away
from her and lowered his voice to speak
gently to Emily, made her weep as bitter
tears of shame at night as any repentant
Magdalen might have shed.
It was clear, bright, breezy night at
the end of March, The shutters of the
shop had been shut two hours ago. The
last of the dodgers had stumbled away to
bed, stopping a moment at the bottom of
the dark stairs to strike match and light
a pipe to bear him company. Mrs. Brady
looked in dull-eyed, listless way at the
crumb- Uttered table and the dirty plates
and glasses in the little back room, and no.
ticed that Cass had duster in her hand
and that Emily was bringing water. She
was full of housewifely cares, with no house
wifely enthusiasm in the cares. "Put them
bits by on a plate, Cas-" she directed.
"An' there's the cheese; don't let it bide
out; tn mice gets to it. You needn' empty
tn jug; tn milk II be good by tn mornin'." "
And after looking on for a moment at the
girls work she slowly lighted her candle
and went her way.
Emily was washing up the supper things.
Cass held damp, unlovely cloth, and wiped
the plates and forks as Emily took them,
one by one, from the water. For some
minutes there was no sound in the room
but the clatter of plate touching plate and
the hiss of the gas turned low. Cass stood
upright at her task; Emily stopped little,
with an air of weariness or weakness which
was habitual to her.
Neither had spoken. Emily looked as
she always looked-her thin little face
almost colorless, her eyes cast down, her
light hair drawn tightly back into hard
little hair-pinned knot behind, her print
gown. limp, her manner gentle, deprecating.
There was no obvious change in her to-
night. Yet before many minuets had
passed, it somehow became clear to Cass
that Emily was excited, that something
unusual had happened, that Emily had
on her mind that she desired
to tell.
"Theym most done, )" said Emily at last.
Although the remark referred to the
dishes, Cass understood that it was in
some way preparatory to a more important
1t broke the silence.
But it was not remark that called for
answer or comment.
''There's tn tumblers," added Emily
gently after minuet.
':Yes," said Cass.
'Best change tn WATER" said Emily
Cass, without word, took the bowl and
changed the water rapidly.
"It's funny" said Emily, in timid and
tone, as she dipped the first glass
in the clean water and bathed away the
traces of rum and sugar. "It's funny to
think how all days is tn same-layin'
meals, washin' up, brushin' an cleanin, an
maxim beds-an'yet how differ'n 'nt-sort o
differ 'nt-some days seems"
Cass was wiping glass with needless
vigor. Somehow she knew beforehand
what was coming. Emily raised two light,
timid, pathetic eyes, and looked at her
with sort of deprecating glance.
ard like to tell ZEE somethin, Cass; but
you'll be angered wine"
''Not l, said Cass shortly. "Angered 2
Not likely p
But the assurance did not convey much
Emily bent again to her
work in silence.
"It's you an Jim, l s'pose," said Cass
after minuet, as the silence lasted.
"Yes. Don be angered, Cass-don' be
vexed-not long wi me- He wouldn't
take mo an l did say no to n at first,
An he was Always difer'nt to tn other
men-kind about things-an' serious, an
no uOnScuec an JccAiu Ou was
afraid you might-might take it unkind,
Cass-an' be angeFed."
There was long pause. Cass was
striving after impressiveness, eager to tell
her lie with force, with truthlike intensity.
She put both hands on the table, and,
leaning on the down-turned palms, bent
across and looked steadily and calmly at
Emily, whose eyes fell,
aYou'm in love WI Jim," she said, san
you think all the worlds in love tn same.
If I'd been in love wi n, Emily, should 1
have cast n up? Tell me that. Do 1
look as if | was frettin'? Do L? Why,
threw'n up meself. II was tired O.
his preachin' ways; we'd been keepin' COM
pany long enough, an 1 was tired of it.
It's all one TO me what he does an where
he goes, an who he marries An I'm glad
he's took up wi you; you'm made fur n
just his sort-an' you've set yer mind
on n fur tn last two year. It's naughtt to me
AN I'm glad. Don talk Of my bein' an
gered. Angered? What about? Might
marry dozen wives fur all 'twould fret
me-might be brought in drowned to-mar-