The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-11-20

to hope-with little quiet malice-that
| compulsory diet of husks may provesome
| day to be wholesome and humbling.
Nellie devoured all these tales with in
terest and with a longing that she could
scarcely keep in check to spring up and to
| applaud the prodigal. The more she
heard of him the more she longed for his
return. He must be so interesting, she
| thought, so different from all the quiet,
/ humdrum squires and parsons among
/ whom she passed her days. And some
/ times, when at afternoon tea with the
rectors sister, Lesbia Godalming, the
latter lady would lift her hands in horror
at the last bulletin, Nellie's eyes would
dance with fun and mischief, as she said
demurely:
Its very sad to be so bad! Now, amt
you glad you're not so bad2 Never mind,
Lesbia; when he comes home again, you
and l will convert him. What fun 1t will
| bel"
At last he came home.
And the first time that Nellie met him,
all beaming over with curiosity and ex-
pectation, she thought: "Oh, dear me! he
doesn't look bit wicked" And all the
/ sparkle died out of her eyes. 1t was
great disappointment.
However. the second time that they
nett was an archery meeting-she
somewhat altered her first opinion, and
thought:
perhaps, after all, he is rather bad. L
am so glad that had on my new hat.
And, after their third meeting, when he
| took her in to dinner at a neighbour
| house, she came home with soft, happy
eyes and fixed resolve.
| "Poor fellow How sad he looked when
h T,1l = = oh nn1
Well, il only shows what anoble character
of all those early disadvantages. 1
am glad that he is coming to tea
tomorrow afternoon, and then l will
| begin at once to convert him, No, don't
think | will invite Lesbia, for she is so
| strict that she might alarm him at first.
| And the first step is of such great impor-
tance," added this small sage, wisely.
| And then she began to think whether she
should order tea or coffee for this moment
Gus interview.
Sir Roger came next day, and. with
/ some slight diffidence, Nellie began her
work of conversation. She was not quite
sure, in fact, she was very hay, as to the
nature of the terrible things that he must
be converted from; but the words "a sa-
loon in Frisco" sounded bad enough to
cover any amount of possibilities. And,
at least, it was easy to tell the owner Of an
estate that it was his positive duty 10 live
/ at home upon his estate, and to preserve
the game, and to prosecute the poachers.
Nellie very nearly said ito prosecute the
poachers; :" the knowledge of this slipmade
| her so hot and confused that she quite for
got to enumerate all the other duties of an
| English squire. So that Sir Roger, whose
| face had hitherto been so perfect and
grave q mask that it limited at GER
tain muscles kept sternly in check, now
/ allowed these muscles to relax into
smile that was full of quiet humor. And
| before Nellie recovered her composure, he
| turned the conversation into another
! groove; so that presently she found her
self listening with wrapt attention to
relation of the struggles OF his boy
hood and early manhood; to those days
when he thought that he should have to
carve his upward way with unhagging
labor, upheld only by the determination
that his life should not be ruined by ex-
pectant waiting for dead mems shoes.
How Nellie admired him. He talked
on quietly, half musingly, with no inten-
ton of asking pity, but because her SYM
| pathy moved Irresistible to him, and be-
cause it pleased him to watch the lights
and shadows that came and went upon
her upturned face. And more than once
| that curious instinct OF comradeship
proved too strong for her, and she burst
out, impulsivelv:
80! / am sorry for you! How dread
full for you How could could you bear
such hardships?"
Somehow, the conversion did not pro-
coed any further that day; and when he
left, after promising to ride over next day
with some ferns, she quite forgot that he
was prOdigal, and that society in Clay
shire did not know how or where he had
spent the last two years; quite forgot her
role of monitress; said; 81 hope you will
come here again." and said it as if she
meant it.
Sir Roger rode over the next morning to
say that he feared he had lost the promised
ferns. And, as il was lovely summer
morning, he and Nellie strolled about the
garden and INDUCED in little more con-
fusion and great deal of chat.
And then the next morning he came
again TO say that he had found the ferns
and that, perhaps, it would be well if he
showed Miss Normandy how TO plant
them. Miss Normandy had on a most
| becoming frock that morning, and she
also thought that it would be we'll if Sir
Roger were to show her how to plant the
ferns. BY this time she had lost all her
first feeling of shyness, and had almost
forgotten that he was prodigal. He was
so extremely pleasant
They wandered up and down the trim
gravel paths, where never a weed dared to
raise it's unbidden self. They examined
the sun-dial, and removed an infnitessimal
tuft OF moss from its face; they visited the
kennels. where the live dogs yelped, and
the graves where the dead dogs lay.
"Poor beasts p said Roger.
"They were my friends, said Nellie.
'Then they had some luck, said Roger.
They picked up the fallen fir cones and
arranged them in a pattern round the
| calceolaria bed They dallied and daw-
died in the September sunshine, discuss
ing matters grave and gay, and disposing
of each in turn with the satisfying convic-
ton that their opinions were unassailable.
And one of them thought that life was
sweet. and that the world was peopled
with the great and good; that three-score
| years and ten were but a sunny stretch,
undimmed by mist or shadow also that
an hour with a prodigal was worth a
| twelvemonth spent with other people.
And the other one thOught-but no
| Rogers thoughts were locked in his own
bosom. Perhaps, however, Nellie guessed
their purport, for she suddenly grew very
dignifed and proposed a return to the
| house.
Mr.. Butterfly heard their voices as he
| of tho librorv dOrry or,d ba 1oI