The Press., 1889-11-28
A SLIP OF THE PEN.

A SLIP OF THE PEN.
 It was all Dicky Carshalton's fault.
 There is nothing wonderful in the fact that Dicky was at the bottom of that unfortunate affair with Jack and Ethel
 Matters had long been in delicate and crit fcal state between those young people. Jack had told himself over and over again that Ethel was Hirt, and that he, for one, had no intention of adding himself to the list of her e victims; while Ethel had relieved her feel ings by repeatedly assuring herself that Jack was cross fellow, who cared for nothing but his books, and was quite impervious to the charms of womanhood.
 But that night at the Warringtons things really did seem to be taking turn for the better. Ethel had boldly turned her back on half dozen other admirers, and Jack, look ing down into her honest eyes, was rapidly forgetting the doubts and fears which had torlnented him during the past montha
 There Is no knowing what might not have happened, had it not been for Dicky, who came up to them at this hopeful stage of aRairss his shoulders in his ears, his hair brushed to nicety, and with the most unmistakable look of mischief in, his prominent eyes
 'Good evening, Miss Mariner,n hs said,
 
 with empressement: and then the two poor things, suddenly awakened from their dream, stood there chill and helpless while Dicky fired off his accustomed volley of chaff, and Ethel, with feminine presence of mind, ven- tured on one or two little pop guns on. her own account. fst
 Miss Mariner" he said at last, with satis- fed glance at Jacks sullen face, "have you been into the conservatoryi They've put a lot of pink lamps, and there's the most scrump tious tete-a-tete chair you can imagine"
 Poor Ethel looked up at Jack, who stood by, furious and sulky.
 ''He is only too glad to get rid of me. He hasn't the ordinary kindness to rescue me amiable to him" !" she thought in despair u
 "If she likes that popinjay, let her go with himl I'm sorry for her taste, that's al, re- hected Jack, and in another minute Ethel found herself actually seated in the tete-artete chair with Dicky, whose large eyes were rolling triumphantly in the light of the rose colored lamps.
 She did not succeed in making her escape till it was time to go home. Jack was no where to be seen, and she drove back In the chill gray morning with the heaviest heart she had known for many days. s'' ss'-
 "Ethel, 1" said her mother at breakfast, the next morning, ''did you have pleasant time at the Warrfngtonsa" se -ss7s s'*
 'oh, yes, mamma" said Ethel, drearily. She was pale and heavy eyed; I think shehad not slept all night.
 "And who were therep' went on Mrs Mar finer, helping herself to buttered eggs with cheery briskness.
 Ethel enumerated various people. "And Dicky Carshalton," :" she concluded, land Jack Davenant.
 The last named dipped out with exagger- ated care !essness, and yet 1t wass whirFing about in the poor girls head, and had been doing so for the last five or six hours, like aD imprisoned blue-bottle in glass.
 "Jack-Jack-Jack Davenant." Was she never to have another definite thought againi
 By the by" said Mrs. Mariner, as she rose from table, Twill you send note to Florence Byrne9 want her to lunch here tomorrow at half past 1.-the singletons are coming.r
 Ethel moved to the writing table, blushing faintly. She remembered that Mrs. Byrne was Jack Davenant's cousin. z q SF-z' Half past 1, recollect," cried her mother. as she rustled from the room. ,
 Ethel listlessly took up her pen, and pulled a sheet of paper towards her. It was not stamped with the address, but she failed to notice this, and began at once:
 My dear Mrs Byrne."
 Then she stopped short, and the buzxing in her brain went on worse than ever.s 5-sta The note got written at last, all but the signature, and then she began to wonder dreamily if she should sign herself "Yours very sincerely ,n or ours affectionately.n E
 "Ethel, Ethel l" cried her mother, putting her head in at the door, II am going out to the post"
 Guilty and ashamed, Ethel seized her pen and wrote hastily, but in bold hand:
 ,a "Yours very sincerely,
 "JACK DAvENANT."
 Mrs. Byrne neither came to lunch nor an swered the Mariners invitation. Mrs Mari ner expressed surprise at this want of cour. tesy, and apologized to the sSingletonse for having no one to meet them.
 "Are you sure, Ethel, you told her the right day9 Florence is in town. know, and ft 9is so unlike her to be rude" yres .ts:s7
 II think it was all right, mamma, Ethel replied vaguely, and never gave another thought to the matter T. sss% iisis tss-f '
 But on the morning of the next day, as she was practicing her singing in the great Ehol land shrouded drawing room, the door was flung open to admit a benign and comely F lady, who advanced smiling toward her. Mrs. Byrnei" cried Ethel in some surprise, l getting off the music stool
 Mrs. Byrne established herself comfortably in deep armchair. then beckoned the young girl mysteriously with a well gloved finger: "Come over here, Ethel"
 Ethel drew 8 stool to the others side and sat down smiling, but mystifeds Mrs Byrne played little with the clasp of the silver mounted handbag which she carried, from which, having at Last succeeded in opening it, she produced . stamped suvsl' ope addressed to herself.
 <rDo you know that handwritingr' she said, hourishing it before Ethsis asbVnished l eyes. <y- f,s .zTI a@.. &.s- "It Is my own; I wrote to ask you to lunch, :" poor Ethel answered simply, whiie the thought flashed across her mind that Mrs Byrne had probably gone mad. 's se Read it, then. cried that lady. with an HUNTS REMEDY.s ss