Morris tribune., 1889-08-21

Then the two girls left all other work
to examine Elsie's wardrobe, and soon
Betsy was dressed in the most elegant
attire.
"And l." said Elsie-I will be your
poor companion, and you must call me
Miss Smith, and snub me and order me
aboAt."
Thus it was all arranged when the
little letter Elsie had 80 long been ex-
pecting arrived, and breaking its blue
seal she read that Mr.. Harrington would
pay his respects to Miss SeaTight in the
course of an hour.
How Miss Seabright laughed as she sat
waiting in the drawing room, watching
Betsy sail up and down with all the
new assumption of dignity. Betsy,
with the most amiable intentions, would
have been sure of offending: but Betsy,
bent on being unpleasant, would be
grand success.
Just then Betsy herself teaned from
the window.
"Oh, miss" she cried, there's car
riage at the door, and there's y gentle
man coming out of it. Bless us! if that
IL I'LL L uO1l "oIlSlSA .NSNA "$HAo w w
off your match. Deary, oh! deary mel!
But before she could explain a servant
had brought Elsie a card bearing the
name of Harold Harrington, and as she
arose the most extraordinary figure en-
tered the room.
1t was very tall young man, between
whose shoulders, nevertheless, grew
hump. He also, though he seemed to
move actively enough, walked on
crutches.
On his head, from which he had re-
moved his cap, was a black silk skull
cap, such as entirely bald old gentlemen
then wore.
His nose was certainly we'll shaped,
but it was much the color of red flannel:
and about his throat was a muller.
This was Harold Harrington.
Elsies surprise was SO great that she
sank into chair and forgot to prompt
Betsy as she intended.
But Betsy needed no prompting She
was not III tn" least embarrassed.
She advanced to meet Mr.. Harrington
with Il grin OF supreme insolence upon
her face, and burst into loud laugh.
WELL" she said, you arc my young
man, are you? must say, whoever
picked you out showed no mighty great
taste; 'twasn't for your beauty, that's
plain"
mo, madam" said the arrival, sit
was not for my beauty. Do I address
Miss Seabright?"
''Why, who else should l be- cried
Betsy. "'Twas not for your cseverness,
neither, you were chosen. But now
you've come. sit down. Been in the
wars, haven't you?"
"My infirmities," sighed the young
man, care the result of my recklessness
as a boy. l had most synpathizing
letter from you upon the fall that broke
my limb. You remember it? You also
condoled with me upon the careless shot
which cost me my eye, though you did
not know how serious was the result.
cit was while I was on a trip to
Switzerland that 1 injured my back, and
while endeavoring to drink some boiling
tea the housekeeper had left carelessly
on the table scalded all the hair from
my head. This scar upon my cheek is
the result Of having attempted to shave
myself with my poor fathers razor. 1t
was injudicious of him not to tell you
the result of my injuries, but now you
see them for yourself, l will not go into
further particulars You remember all
my accidents"
YES" said Betsy, land a fine figure
of a man they've made you; you'd do to
scare the crows from an orchard, l must
say, and you're sent to me, that might
have my pick and offers to marry. It's
enough to make one die of laughing"
"Then you refuse me-" said the young
man eagerly.
"Oh, no" said Betsy. "Oh, no, ! don't;
there's the fortune, you know. Money
is money, and even an object like you is
better than poverty. Ill have you; though
how folks will laugh to see us paired off
together! One comfort, though; SO broken
as you must be you can't last long"
ION the contrary, I expect to live to be
| eighty" said the young man.
Expectations don'tg go for much, said
BETSY. ''Look how the old folks went"
eve were deprived of their affections
very suddenly" said the young man
signing. my father loved yours dearly,
Miss Seabright."
'Folks will take queer notions" said
Betsy. "Well, must say you are an
| object. I can'thelp laughing whenever
look at you"
eve shall have very merry life to-
gether," said Harold, eff your DISPOSE
ti,n continues.
"Oh, shan't see much of you, said
Betsy, IT can promise you, after the
ring is on. What possessed you to smash
yourself up so? But shan't refuse YOU
It's money makes the mare co. says the
old song"
"It may be-" said Harold. But let
the mare stand still for me, then. Iquite
decline to fulfill the engagement. So,
madam, you have the fortune without
any incumbrance in my person."
"And a good radiance of bad rubbish,
say T." cried Betsy. ''There are better
| fish in the sea than you, or women weuld
be poorly off. You're going, Ell? Well,
the sooner the better. Miss Smith, ring
the bell"
Elsie arose and touched the bell.
But now the deed was done and her OBJ
ject attained, she felt dreadfully ashamed
of herself.
Certainly a more unhappy and singu-
lar object than this before her could not
we'll be imagined.
Indeed, compassionate as was her
heart, she felt that his appearance was
| not only painful, but almost ludicrOus
but all the more should lie have been
tenderly used.
Why had she pie J is childish
prank, and allowed vulgar woman to
insult him in her presence?
And this gentleman-for hideous as he
was, he was gentleman by breeding as
well as by birth-how would he hence
| forth think of her?
He would always believe that she had
uttered those rude words-she, and none
| other.
n, I,o loft tho woouo cbn followed