Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-05-25
OUR LADY-HELP.

ing" my wife began, in that tone of scarcely
suppressed irritabilty which. in the early hours
OF the day, seems 10 come so naturally to mar
| r1ed ladies. Charlie is really too old to be
left with Margery any longer. The child will
be seven tomorrow; We must make some
change.
! We were sitting at breakfast. 1t was the 2Ist
| OF March. remember the date well. for. when
my wife addressed me, 1 had in my hand the
publishers account for bringing out my little
| volume of poems and its amount had proved
shock to my feelings.
Certainly, dear, / think you are right" re-
piled, my thoughts still fixed upon the bill
He has quite caught Margery's atrocious
accent. Alfred, what is the use of my talking
to you?'
MY dear Arrabelle. am listening to every
| word you say'-"Margery accent" had re-
| veaIed to me that Mrs. Fortcsque was going
through one OF her periodic panics concerning
the ignorance of her Youngest child-'the boy
| should have goyerneSs."
| How can you be so thoughiless? Really,
Alfred, any one would think. 10 hear you talk.
| that you had no natural feeling. You know
DIR. Rouston- houston SAYS that it would be pos
| it1vely dangerous for the dear boy to touch
Dook TOR the next two years at least"
| why on EARTH then are you worrying about
him? The little fellow is all right with Mar
| gerry"
AT this was overwhelmed with reproaches.
| l was told that L neglected my child shame
fully; that it was well for him he had mother
| 10 take care OF him. and many another of those
| home truths which it seems the fate of good
tempered. easy-going men to have cast at them.
| Ihe upshot of the matter was that nv wife de-
clared her intention of having a lady-help,
was amused at the idea-the word seemed
to suggest such queer anOmaly-but did not
| object. The question concerned Charlie much
| more than me. | thought.
| Yes. that might be a solution of the diff
Guilty; only for Heavens sake. Arabelle. do let
her be decontly good looking Your new
| hOusemaid is too ghastly Jenkins almost
| choked with laughter when he saw her the
/ other night"
That was all said, not word more: and vet
| 10 IRIS day 1t Is commonly believed III our
! family circle, not only that it was | who
| wished to engage a ladv-help, but also that [
| insisted on her being young and beautiful.
| heard nothing more of the affair for some
| days, when. returning one evening from the
| office, my wife greeted me with a radiant
| smile.
Alfred have been so fortunate, Annie
/ Lascelles called this afternoon. and she knows
| OF the very thing we want. She is the daughter
| OF a curate down in Devonshire, and is Just as
| Sood and sweet as she can be. She is little
more than child herself. so she will be
| dellShtful companion for Charlie"
At first had felt rather mvstified as to what
! 1.-THE very thing" that was 1.-THE daughter of
curate might be. but at the aIlusion TO Charlie
| 1t dawned upon me--of course it was the LADY,
| heIp AGAIN And. sure enough. one morning.
| about week later. found a tall delicate
| looking girl sitting at the breakfast table She
| gave me shy. timid little bow, and seemed
rather frightened when l would shake hands
| with her.
She is really not bad-looking.r remember
thinking to myself. In fact. ii she were less
white and trembling she would be almost
| pretty"
Her features were delicate and refined. and
! her small weli-shaped head was covered with a
! perfect wealth OF silky, blue-black curls. cut
! snort IKE boys. Still she was certainly not
| attractive: she never raised her eyes from the
| table and seemed SO manifestly i'll at ease that
| IL gave me quite an uncomfortable sensation to
! look at her.
In these early days saw very little of orr
| ady-help. FOR We had new head in our depart
| ment at the office. who making our lives a
| burden; 80 l was rarely at home.
! one afternoon however, / managed to get
of little earlier than usual. and walked across
| that rather desolate part of Kensngton Gar
! dens that lies between the Round Pond and
! BirdcaSe Walk. 1t was completely deserted;
| not creature was to be seen. was walking
| alcng an the soft. smooth grass. when suddenly
| some one from behind a tree almost sprang into
my arms. She-Ior it was a lady-came with
such velocity that it was by the inerest chance
In the world we did not both fall to the ground
AS simple measure of precautiOn / was
I obliged to support her. For one moment she
| lay IN my arms. painting and breathless and as
looked down into her face / thought had
never seen a more lovely creature. What eyesl
! What color. did not know her in the least
! and yet IN some indetinable wav she re-
called face that had seen, though l could
| not have said where when.
| At that moment Charities shril childish voice
rang through the air:
Papa. papa! 1 say, that isn't fair. Yon
| have Just spollt the game. How could Lily run
when you stood in her way?"
| II flashed into my mind that Miss Lillian Boil
! lltho was the name of our lady-helpi But who
! III this nymph with disheveled hair, flushed
| cheeks, and eyes flashing with life and gaietv,
would ever have recognized the pale die-away
creature whom l was accustomed to see at
breakfast!
| Whether Miss Bollitho found me less formid
! able than my wife [ cannot say; but certainly
| now that was alone, her manner showed none
| OF that painful nervousness that usually char
acterlzed her. She was still very shy but not
| aWkWardly SO; on the contrary, there was
| something rather taking in the way she would
| raise her great, brown eyes for one moment to
my face. and then let them fall as if startled at
| their own audacity.
| walked home with her, Charlie gamboiing
on m front. just ms We were coming ont of the
park gate we met Frank Bristowe, my wife's
rather disreputable brother-in-law and | was
considerably annoyed at the look of undis-
guised amusement he cast at us in passing.
MY VIE ana mad arranged to go to the
theater that evening; but, at about 6.oclock,
| we had a note from my sister who was to have
| accompanied us, begging us to use her ticket,
as she could not. l suggested that we should
| take Miss Bollitho with us. My wife caught at
the idea
The very thing. I have been wishing I
could give the poor child little pleasure. but
didn't like to suggest it, as l knew you dis
liked her, though don't know how YOU can.
for she is 50 good to Charlie. You won't mind
her dining with us just for once?'
When Miss Bollitho came down. dressed for
the theater, she really was perfect little pic
ture. SO quaint and pretty did she look in her
queer short-waisted gown made of some soft.
silky stuff covered with birds and flowers evil
IDENTITY an old family relic. Her pretty, girlish
neck was uncovered, and she wore white silk
spider-web mlttens, such were in fashion
some hundred years ago. Her cheeks were
flushed and her eyes were sparkling with sub-
dued excitement. as if she felt the gods were
favoring her more than she deserved
My wife looked at her with real, honest pleas
ure IN her eyes.
How can you think that girl plain?" she
said to me when we were alone for a moment
This was in allusion to a remark of mine the
day l first saw our lady-help. Il never shall
understand what you men admire in a woman
l think she is perfectly lovely"
So did l, but had not the time to confess it.
so did a good many other people in the w.
ceum that night. As 1 noted the glances of