The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1890-07-17

hampton knew that there was no decep
| ton or even eXaggeratiOn about the mat
| ter, knew that they at No. had taken at
the food that tide which leads to fame
and fortune.
ST can't think how they do it, cried
Mrs. Morningt Brown plaintively to her
| eldest daughter, the one whom Julia had
called triumph
'PushW replied Miss Mornington-B Brown
tartly.
'It really is strange" sighed the old
| lady, who was very delicate aud very
prlmly shadowy in her whole person, Il
should have thought when Tina came
here first-why she was quite a child
should have thought she would have mar
ried at once But somehow the men seem
to think nothing of beauty. Tina is a
beauty"
eyes. Tina is a beauty" said the elder
sister. who had long ago given up all idea
of resigning her appointment to st. Cath
crime.
"Mrs. Trafford seems to be the great
woman here" said the mother of the new
ly-arrived nine daughters to her eldest
girl, Miss Chadd. Everybody is talking
about her and half the people envying
Anthony Staunton and her niece who
lived with them married Marcus Oxford,
Lord Ceespring's only son. And now her
eldest girl, quite plain little thing, Mrs
Morecombe told me, is going to marry
this handsome young Australian million
aire. i think we shall have to get to know
her."
II certainly should" returned Carmine
~ n
sitting quietly down in Blankhampton to
see what fate would send her.
How happy Julia Trafford ISL said
Aileen Adair, the Deans lovely daughter,
to Pamela Winstanley as they went home
across the Close a few days before the
wedding.
Eyes" said Pamela, holding her head
very high as she thought of her own
blighted hopes and the smart 32nd who
had gone out with all gaiety and gladness
to the tune of "The girl 1 leave behind
me-" Eyes. I am very glad Julia is MAX
ing such nice marriage. He is quite the
man of her heart"
ooh! quite" returned Aileen, with soft
little sigh.
She was rather tired that evening, her
back ached and she had been bridesmaid
so many times since she had come to
Blankhampton, and she began to feel like
the Bishops eldest daughter often looked
look like her she never could. And she
had a liking for Anthony Mauleverer, and
fancied-nay, knew-that Anthony liked
her, too. But that was hopeless. quite
hopeless, and so she gave that soft little
sigh as they walked along.
Dear Mrs Trafford,' said Mrs. Fairlie,
sweetly, the first time they met after the
engagement was announced, II am so
glad, so glad. You will let us know in
good time that we may send our little Of
fering, won't your" and then the Blank
hampton Lily went on her elaborate way
rejoicing for the first time since the great
ST. Ewes robbery in all the glory Of Il
new-shaven pOodle-dog wearing his we'll
polished silver collar, bells aud bangles.
1t happened that when these two ladies
met and exchanged their greetings in the
| High Street, on the opposite side of the
way two persons were standing talking
| together And when Mrs. TraffOrd and
| Mrs. Fairlie parted the younger of the
| two, one Roberts, a minOr-canOn at the
| Parish, said to the other who was man
| holding like appointment, Upon my
word. Molyneux, that woman must be go
| ing off her head. Look at that dog"
The elder man turned and watched the
| two go up the street, took it all in-the
hen-like walk. the Pompadour stick with
| its big silver knob, the noticeable dog
with it's silver collar and bells and its sill
yer bangles on its legs-and gave short
laugh
"Isn't it astounding that Fairlie lets her
make such a fool of herself?" Roberts
went on.
The older man laughed again.
"What would you do if your wife got
herself up in that style?" he asked.
81 wouldn't have it," said Roberts,
promptly.
"And if she would-what would you do
then?" asked the other.
The younger parson stared at his fellow
| priest for minute. ''Well, | think
| should cut it," he said, at last.
$50 does Fairlie, as much as is practical.
| ble," said MolyneuX.
+ How odd fashion is! / have often won.
dered who set the fashions In Blankhamp-
i ton. Not the BIankhampton Lily, that is
certain, else the old town would have
come out in an eruption of bejewelled
bow-wows. But still somebody must do it,
/ and the mention of Mrs Fairlie's Pompa-
i dour stick reminds me that the very last
| time was there I was much struck with
! II fashion which had not only obtained but
j was universal.
The time was mid-winter, the weather
something more than broken, the state
of the quaint old streets filthy. And every
lady under forty, and good many over
it. carried a stick-it was quite the badge
of fashion. Not little lady-like fancy
affair but good stout solid stick with q
| good stout business-like crutch handle. an
excellent help in tramping over Scotch
moors, along the coast. or for Swiss noun
tains, excellent for a poor soul with club
foot or a weak knee. Gaily enough the
short skirted Blankhampton damsels
f1ourished these humping great sticks
around, but for a pathetic sight / COM
mend you to a spinster of certain age,
with skirts killed half way to the knee "a
process which usually occupies both
hands) daintily picking her way through
three inches of liquid mud, while the stout
stick is grasped in the middle by the al
ready occupied hand and swings to and
| fro like the balancing pole of tight-rope