Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1889-10-21
A Slip of the Pen.
1t was all Dicky Carshalton's fault.

the finer feelings, and perhaps is not
aware of the extent of the discomfort
he produced in more sensitive people.
A frequenter of parties of every de-
scription, he is fond of varying the
monotony of the social routine by va
rious little practices. OF these, his
favorite, not, alas peculiar to HIM
self, is commonly known as spelling
spurs. Whenever Dicky sees a pair
of people who appear to take particu
lar delight in one another's society,
showing a tendency to seek unto
themselves retreats, he is never salts
fed until by some bold stroke of cum
ming strategem, he has succeeded in
separating them; or at least in de-
stroying their enjoyment for the rest
of the evening.
The happy possessor of an exhaust
less supply of self-confdence and the
most brazen impudence-the objects
of his attacks, moreover, being, from
the nature of their position compari-
lively defenceless, it is needless to
add that, though Dicky had his fail
ures on record, they are greatly out
stripped in numbers by his successes.
So 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 critical state between the two
young people. Jack had told himself
over and over again that Ethel was a
fiirt, and that he, for one, had no in
tention of adding himself to the list
of her victims; while Ethel had re-
lieved her feelings by repeatedly as
surfing 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 a
turn for the better. Ethel had boldly
turned her back on half dozen other
admirers, and Jack, looking down
into her earnest eyes, was rapidly for
getting the doubts and the fears which
had tormented him during the past
months.
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 affairs, his shout
ders in his ears, his hair brushed to
nicely, and with the most unmistake-
able look of mischief in his prominent
eyes.
"Good evening, Miss Mariner" he
said, taking Ethel's hand in his and
squeezing it with impressment; and
then the two poor things, suddenly
awakened from their dream, stood
there chill and helpless while Diclky
fired off his accustomed volley of
chaff, and Ethel, with feminine pres
ence of mind, ventured on one or
two little pop-guns on her own ac
count.
s'Miss Mariner" he said at last,
with satisfied glance at Jacks sui
len face" have you been into the con-
servatory? They've put lot of pink
lamps and there's the most scrump-
tuous tete-a-tete chair you can imag
ine."
Poor Ethel looked up at Jack, who
stood by, furious and sulky.
''He is only too glad to get rid of
me; he has not the ordinary kindness
to rescue me from this bore. And l
have been so thoroughly amiable to
him." she thought in despair.
elf she likes that poppinjay, let
her 90 with him! I'm sorry for her
taste, that's ALL" reflected Jack, and
in another minute Ethel found her.
self actually seated in the tete-a-tete
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 nowhere to be seen, and
she drove back in the chill gray morn
ing with the heaviest heart she had
known for many days.
''Ethel," said her mother at break
fast, the next morning, "did you
have pleasant time at the Warning
tons r''
go, yes, mamma said Ethel
drearily. She was pale and heavy
eyed; / think she had not slept all
night.
"And who were there?" went on
Mrs. Mariner, helping herself to but
tered egg with CHEEKY briskness.
Ethel enumerated various people.
"And Dicky Carshalton,' she con-
tinued, "and Jack Davenant.
The last name slipped cut with ex-
aggerated carelessness, and yet it
was whirling about in the poor girls
head, and had been doing so for the
last five or six hours, like an impris-
oned blue bottle in a glass.
ssJack- Jack jack Davenant."
Was she never to have another def
mite thought again?
"By-the-bv," said Mrs. Mariner,as
she rose from the table, twill you
send q note to Florence Byrne? /
/ want her to lunch here tomorrow
at half past one; the Singletons are
coming"