The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1890-04-23
HORSESHOE LUCK,

"Am too old to think of second
maria ge?" said Mrs. Blythe, looking
wistfully into the glittering sheet of mir
TOR that extended at the other side Of the
room into an indefinite perspective of
ONYX tables. stands of ferns, japanese
screens and India hangings. 'Slx-and-
tlirty-and why should one be compelled
to give up all the sweetness of life at SIX
and-thirty? I'm sure l don't look day
over thirty: and Algy Vane must be that
at least!'
Mrs. Blythe was very pretty woman
not the bud, but the full-blown rose-a
plump, dimpled, peachy-cheeked matron,
who knew exactly how to make the most
of all her middle aged advantages.
She had married Major Mortlake Blythe
at seventeen. and he had left her widow
at seven-and- twenty.
81 shall never be such fool as to
marry again" said Mrs. Blythe.
For the Major had by no means been
perfection. He had left her just enough,
by dint of strict economy, to live upon,
especially as her Only child had been
taken to ':bring up" by quiet Quaker
couple, the Ma jor's relatives. And until
now Mrs. Blythe had adhered resolutely
to her decision.
But Algernon Vane was royalty hand
some fellow, and the pretty widow was
but human. and she had scribbled "Rosa-
mond Vane." "Mrs. Algernon Vane, y
over and over again in her blotting
book. and she had treasured up flower
be had worn in his buttonhole, and she
had corresponded with him during the
winter he had spent in Bermuda, writing
sprightly and amusing letters, with a
semi-tone of seriousness underlying all
their sparkling gossip.
"He likes ME a little now," said the
widow, land I'm determined he shall
like me good deal more. I'm tired of
this solitary life; I'm tired of counting
every penny half dozen times before |
spend it. Algy is independently rich,
and he's my beau ideal of young man.
With him l do believe 1 could be quite,
quite happy. He don't know about
Lydia; but of course that would be no
objection. Uncle Joshua and Aunt Re-
becca will keep her. Dear me, dear me
she muat be growing to be big girl
now," aud Mrs. Blythe shuddered at the
idea.
At this moment the door flew open,
and in burst tall, dusty, disheveled
young girl, some half head taller than
Mrs. Blythe herself, with the white
capped maid following helplessly be-
hind.
"Please, ma'am," said the maid, "she
wouldn't wait for me to take her card
up"
Mamma. I'm Lydia!' cried the
breathless apparition. "Little Liddy,
mamma-don't you remember? Tell
that hateful girl to go away! A card,
indeed Am | to send up cards to my
own mother
Mrs. Blythe stood appalled,, in the soft
yellow light streaming through the
China-silk curtains. This fair haired,
sunburned young giantcss, with the
peony cheeks and the big blue eyes, the
ill-ftting gloves and faded cambria gown
could it be possible that this was the
"little Liddy" of ten years ago? Oh, if
Mr. Vane should see herl
The girl looked around like one who
views the entertainments of fairy palace.
"Oh, mamma, how pretty you arc!"
said she, land what lovely room! Are
you glad to see me, mamma, darling2"
"Ay dearest child, gasped the widow,
"what has brought you here2"
Lydia clasped her hands; ner counten-
ance fell.
"Malnma." said she, "I'm the most
miserable creature in the world-and |
want hundred dollars"
. Lydia. 4 hundred dollars"
"And you must let me have it," vehe-
mently went on Lydia. tive killed
Uncle Joshua's prize colt! That is, I
didn't exactly do it myself; but I was
riding Pretty Jane around the meadow,
just for practice, and I forgot and left the
bars down, and the colt got out on the
railroad track, and the train came along,
and--oh I never can look Uncle Joshua
in the face again, Unless l have that hun
dred dollars to pay him!
II shall be able to earn plenty for my
self before long, mamma" she added,
breathlessly, "for can ride better than