The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1889-10-06


ga mercy indeed!" echo with little in
ward shiver at the thought of Mrs. Peveril
returning with her guest to find no prepare
tions made for his welcome. The next mo-
ment, however, being patriotic and enthu-
siastic damsel, even that thought fades be-
fore the recollection Of the guests title to a
grand reception; and l repeat with an &C.
static gulp Zone of our Ashantee soldiers
reallyf'
Eyes. Carr Glyn, of the - rifles; cap
tain now, by the way, thanks to the blacks
having finished off two of his superiors. He
was only a junior lieutenant when he went
out. All, WELL one mans meat is generally
another mans poison in this world. Let us
hope in the next there will be no such bar
between the brotherhood of sympathy.
Capt. Norris was Carr's greatest friend, and
yet the boy writes of his promotion as if
But, after all, you cut the best roses so as to
give the Others room to blow"
"And he has earned his reward CALAMITY,
sir. They all have" l say warmly and with
little unconscious resentment in my tone
which makes Mr. Clifford smile.
"Ah, my dear, you are young, and your
sympathies are all with the young and
living. Where are you goingF
ITO see about the things Mrs. Peveril
wished done, sir.n
''Make haste back then. win take care
of the BARNS"
''Wont they trouble you, sir2"
"No. A little of the kingdom of heaven
does one good after much of this earths sla-
very; and have been shaving hard today.
Go and plume your feathers for the conquer
ing hero"
"The children's feathers,"T put in laugh
ingly, as run off; but, all the same, after l
have seen to the decoration OF the table with
tall vases Of roses and jessamine, and shall
low baskets of luscious Strawberries and
white and scarlet cherries; after l have
assisted nurse to lay out Dollie's white
frock and blue sash and Georges
Sunday suit 1 slip away to my own
wee, lavender scented chamber over the
porch retwist the coil of wavy bronze colored
hair on the top of my small, vain head,
change my limp morning gown for one of
lilac muslin, fresh and crisp as starch and
duting irons can make it, and even go to the
length of tuckinga little knot of wax white
seringa and lemon scented verbena into my
belt, where hope Mrs. Peveril won't notice
it. don't want to leave Byssham vicarage
even for home when there are too many
mouths there already. Dollie does not dis
approve of the adornment. Seated OH my
bed with her starched skirts spread round
her like cheese plate, she looks on gravely,
and says with demure sigh when all is done:
snow tate me down. 90 welly pity, I sink
more welly pity zan papaln
We, and the children, enter the drawing
room haGd in hand, George prancing like
the shah's pink horses" and Dollie hanging
back with all her weight, one fat finger
tucked half way down her throat in shy
dread of the stranger. Between the two I
am rather flushed and breathless, and only
get glimpse of Mrs. Peveril and beside her
a tall, slim lad In light gray, who springs to
his feet as my master says. "Ah, hero arc the
childrenp and comes forward with out
stretched hands and q pleased, surprised
look, and saying something about mot
knowing there was a grown up Miss Clifford"
OF course it is horribly awkward. OF
course my face is scarlet with confusion, and
my hands grasp tho children's tighter in the
endeavor not to see the hand held out to me.
Says Mrs. Peveril, in that peculiarly quench-
ing tone which dread most:
Miss Leslie is the children's governess,
Carr. Come here, my loves, and speak to
Capt. Glyn. Miss Leslie, shut the door if
you please" ~
This is Mrs. Peveril's little way of setting
things to rights. My masters is different.
He is near the door, and before l can obey
has shut it, laying his hand lightly ON my
shoulder.
"Yes, Miss Leslie is the children's
good angel" he says with that smile
in the voice which one can hear IF she
makes Dollie like herself l shall havea grown
up daughter to be proud of. Let mo intro
duce Capt. Glyn to you, my dear"
And SO l am made known in proper form
to the hero from Ashantee / do not think
Mrs. Peveril is pleased; but when her brother
speaks in that tone she does not dare inter
fere. should not know 1t is very pleas
ant evening Over the piled up flowers and
fruit, tho rich cream, savory pies and home
made cakes of our Devonshire tea table,
catch glimpses of young, bright face,
tanned by the sun, and SO handsome-so
wonderfully handsome-and a little girlish
hand, not looking big enough to hold
sword, but scanned right across with one
broad, red scar--''a niggers lick" he tells
George, laughing. Dollie profits by my alb
straction to eat so much cake that she falls
asleep in my lap after tea, and has to be car
ried Off to bed; but George is 80 fascinated
by the hero's tales that he demands an hours
grace, which being conceded am sent for
from Dollie's bedside to go down again, Mrs.
Peveril never being quite easy as to what
George may say or do, unless I am there to
look after him. Somehow the hour of super
vision tonight gets stretched to two, and l
am glad of it. Oh, that pitiless sun, those
terrible marches and cowardly enemies, how
can he laugh over them now as he doesl But
/ forgot; gallant natures make light of what
turns weak wonlen's blood to water When
at last George and say good night,n be-
come slowly conscious that 1 have been
staring silently into that glorious young
soldier face like a galvanized kitten all even
ing, and that my ridiculous fingers are hot
and trembling from the light touch of that
SCARED right hand.
We are all gathering cherries in the orchard
this morning-we, meaning George, Dollie
and 1, bien entendus. Above our head light
green tapestry of leaves rustles softly in the
fresh breeze, and the countless scarlet, shin.
ing, translucent balls glisten ruby like in the
sunshine against sky all glorious cobalt
blue, and piled up masses Of white. Under
our feet is tho short, sweet grass, green as
emerald, and starred with golden, wide
Tipped buttercups. George and spring and
stretch and clutch at tho ripe fruit, while
little Dollie sits on the grass and laughs as
the crimson showers rattle into tho deep
basket prepared for them. Georges one idea
now is soldering.