San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-03-03

| less OF OfnamentatlOn OF any klnu. a
tiny scarf of white illusion was crossed
over her breast, and her contemplated
toilet was complete. Nevertheless, she
surveyed herself in the glass with evident
dissatisfaction.
Dear me, mamma, it isn't half so bad
as / thought it would be- meant TO
look like a fright, and after all it's rather
effective. If were dressed for private
theatricals l should think myself i'm
mense. Oh, dear! suppose they should
like me best this way after all!'
1t was q sorrowful blow to her hopes
on this trump card to find herself still
exceedingly pretty. She was perfectly
conscious Of certain piquant charm in
her novel appearance that might undo
her after all. Still she would run the
risk. She was a perfect little actress.
If anything had been needed to effect
Roberts complete subjugation after his
| first vision Of her loveliness at the Har-
ward assemblies, it was supplied when he
saw her the week after in some private
theatricals. She could appear to he a
Quakeress just as effectively as she could
| act her more natural self in very differ
| ent world, and it was with face and ac-
cent and manner perfectly adapted to
her new toilet that she quietly entered
the parlor again after her escapale up
stairs, and said demurely to Roberts
| mother:
Rachel, would thee like me to wear
this gown tomorrow evening for thy
| friends?"
There was a subdued whistle of delight
from the reconstructed Robert in the
corner. But Roberts mother gave no
| sign.
Thee must wear just what thee
! pleases, Edith. II it pleases thee better
to wear thy gown of red silk
And the wise Edith understood human
nature well enough to be sure that
Rachel would not be altogether disap-
law should reconsider her toilet and re-
pear in the dainty gowns she had been
exhibiting for the past fortnight.
'And what does Samuel Think Edith
asked, passing on to stand before Rob-
ert's father. r.. ....
"Samuel Thinks said the old gentle
man, slyly, THAT thee had better ask
Robert"
"On, no, Papa Samuel; that would not
be any test at all; thee knows perfectly
well that Robert likes me in anything"
said Roberts fiance, demurely.
.'And 50 do like thee in anything"
said Papa Samuel, with unexpected gal
lantry. But l think l like thee best,
Edith, in red. Thee knows we Quakers
like to follow the way that is most simple
and natural, and think red is the most
natural for thee. ! think thee must have
been born in that red silk of thine. Thee
is very sweet to me, my child, in this
Quaker gray; but we QualSers, thee
knows, do not approve of theatricals, and
I think tonight thee is trying to play
part. Thee acts it very prettily, Edith,
but ! advise thee to go back TO nature
and thy red gowns"
So the battle was won. and the result
proved that Edith was quite able to con-
quer, not only Roberts relations, but
Roberts relations friends. When,
year later, she came back to them again
as a bride, there was but one thing left
for her to conquer. Robert had prepared
her for a possible visit from elderly
| friends who might think it their duty to
demonstrate with her, or with him, on
this very worldly marriage, and it was,
| in truth, hardly a month before he ran
up stairs one afternoon as she was dress
ing, with the announcement that the
| probable counselors were taking off their
overcoats in the hall.
She hesitated moment; but her hest
tation rose merely from moments con-
sideration of whether she had any other
gown in her wardrobe that would en-
phasize more distinctly her intention to
adhere to her own traditions. She de-
cided that the long trailing skirt of pale
green cashmere, with its border Of pale
plush and its sash of watered silk, was
sufficiently worldly when one took into
consideration the jewel that sparkled in
the laces at her throat, the dainty lace
edged handkerchief and the perfectly
groomed little curls over her white fore
head. She paused only to slip on one
more bangle over her round wrist. and
then, kissing her husband, fioated down
stairs.
Robert never knew exactly what she
said sor did to the old gentlemen in the
parlor. He hung over the banisters, and
caught the echoes Of her silvery little
laughs, and saw the maid carry tea into
the parlor, and at the end of an hour de-
scended the stairs himself, as the old gen.
tlemen emerged from the doorway, de-
termined to stand by Edith % the last,
if she happened to have had hard time.
| He knew that some remonstrance would
be quietly dealt out to himself, even dur
| ing the brief vestibuie episode of fare
well; but, to his establishment, as he
stepped forward to help the old gentle
men with their overcoats, the one who
was evidently spokesman for the party
grasped his hand and said heartily:
"Friend Robert, thee has married well /"
Still another year later, and there lay
on Edith's arm little Edith, with lovely
eyes and very remarkable, highly en-
broidered clothes.
DO you think, Esther" said the young
mother anxiously, that she is going to
have curly hair2'
Eyes" said Esther, with smile that
was grimly pleasant and yet pleasantly
| grim, 81 think she will have curly hair.
l know thee would find way to curl it,
though it be as straight as-as a pipe
STEM" and Aunt Esther bent over to
kiss the child.
"And you're glad it curls, Esther, you
know you are" insisted the baby's
| mamma.
Eyes, Edith, am glad it curls. For
since thee would be sure to curl it some
how, it is best that Dame Nature will
have none of thy tricks and graces, but
will bring up the child to please herself"
| Alice Wellington Rollins. in Pittsburg