The Yakima herald. [volume] (North Yakima, W.T. [Wash.]) 1889-1914, 1889-02-21

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sash and nine by fourteen or possibly ten
BY fourteen glass, The putty had dropped
off in places, and the fastening at the top
Of the lower sash was partially broken Of,
as II it had been hastily raised by insert
ing an axe or soup ladle at the bottom and
prying upward. This might have been
done in a moment Of forgetfulness by the
auburn haired and contemplative domes-
tic, who was employed at a stipend Of
three and oHe-half dollars per week to do
the cooking and look after the house.
The young woman who sat in the chair
was near sighted and wore steel trimmed
glasses. She was not handsome, but
there was an expression about her sallow
face, with its square jaw, an aquiline nose,
slightly Redeemed at the tip, that some
times caused persons who met her TO look
at her second time.
Mother" she said to an angular mat.
ron who entered the apartment, ~ am
impressed with the conviction-or per-
haps should say at times dilnly con-
scious Of an impression-that this life Of
excitement Is making me slightly nerv-
ous."
And she put away the yarn stocking
she was darning and picked up late
New England novel by Jenry Hames.
Peninsula" said her mother, after a
pause, during which she had been vague
ly watching the uneasy slumbers Of de-
jected cat that lay Imply on rug before
the fire, ~ think you had better spend q
few months in Italy. What shall we
have for dinner?"
CHAPTER II.
Three weeks later. Rome. Vatican.
Catacombs. Pigeons. Gloomy sunshine.
Oppressive feeling Of ennW.
Mother" said Peninsula, as the two
stood in front-of the Pamphilia-D oria Pal
ace, "isn't that aged horse terribly lame ?
All, me! What is life good for, I won
der, anyhow"
MY daughter" replied the mother,
with a dreary yawn, as she aimlessly
looked at her watch and remembered she
had not wound it since she had left Dis
nation, "Se will 80 to Venice"
CHAPTER Ill.
Gondolas. St. Marks. Pervading
dampness, odors OF garlic, and pensive
memories Of Venetian days. Continue
ton Of ennai.
Mother, yearn for my New England
home. Life here is 80 intense, 80 aquatic,
So"
81 know ii, my daughter. And the
eggs are too Oriental. l want you should
not become too much excited. Remem-
Der how the story Of Annie Quillburn
worked upon your sensitive nature"
Mother" exclaimed Peninsula, in q
voice Of hopeless melancholy, I'VE will
return home"
CHAPTER w.
Dismalton. Another ordinary New
England day. The mother and daughter
alighted from the two seated carry-all,
had their trunks carried into the house,
paid the man and went in. They had
returned home. A few more chunks Of
putty had fallen from the second story
back window, and the cat was rather
thinner than formerly. Otherwise the
place was unchanged.
"What time is it, mother?"
II think" said the mother, looking at
the sun, ''it must be about eleven O'Clock.
Or half-past," she added, refectively.
CHAPTER v.
The evening shades had fallen, but q
faint odor Of boiled cabbage still pervaded
the quiet New England home. There
was knock at the front door. The bell,
it should he explained, was out Of re-
pair.
Tho caller was shown into the parlor.
~ have called, Peninsula, to-"
The young village doctor paused mo-
ment to suppress an involuntary spas
mOdic action that looked like q yawn,
but may have been hiccough.
II have called. Peninsula, to ask II you
will marry me-"
"Fotheringay," she answered, looking
at the hickory wood fire in the CRATE with
painful incertitude, Il can not say
whether will or not"
TIE END.