The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1891-12-25

uufunn) she wrote me strange let
ter. 1t was TO this enects
DEAR aESHT-gou s-noE vas alFaga .
woman OF NY word 50 60 viii ue no surprise %
Won qIat / have left my forums 70 your cousin
Richard But hearing that your vie - q pretty
v-o1Ir- ,yornsn and yreIl-behaved chat is q
leather in your cap. Maude isn't itD send
you my forgiveness And sou Hul receive
further q plum pudding prepared by my own
hands. which desire you viii have served up
at your own table on q New years Gay Hhen-
ever you feel IN your heart that you Likewise
freely forgive the memory Of your aunt
"Is s-The doctors tell me I may get better
OF my Illness But they axe ali idiots or COW
ards, for shall not
And she was right, poor old lady, for
she died one week later The curious
thing was that, in her will, she said:
4 have already given my diamond
necklace to Henry Cpcher, my dear
nephew. who will receive it safely,
trust, some future day That Is all
And though Margaret-Alrs- Colson, /
mean-has hunted for that necklace
| everywhere, though she has consulted
! detectives, and taken every trouble, be-
sides writing us the lzindest Of letters,
the necklace was nowhere to be found
/ after my aunt's death 1t is clean
/ gone, vanished No one seems to
/ blame. The diamonds We're usually
/ kept at the bank, and my aunt herself
| took them away a few days before her
death"
s-stoien." remarked ThoroId, dryly.
And no doubt broken mp before your
venerable relative was even buried.
But how does it come that you have
/ waited four years to feast ON this leg
acy?''
1T has gone through such vicissi-
! tudes''-Maude was eagerly beginning,
though in falteriuE tone. With stern
truthfulness interrupted her wifely
| and womanIy attempt to glaze the ugly
truth. ''Because l am ashamed to say
that, till tonight, ] never could bring
myself to fully and freely forgive my
| Aunt Agg The first New Year / was
still sore, after having been cut out OF
my promised fortune. The second one
this little woman here was i'll, because
/ I had not been able to afford change
up to the hills for both of us, and she
CALAMITY refused to leave me The
third oue-what did happen that third
| New Year, Maude?"
THE plum pudding could not be
found" cried AIaude, laughing 1T
turned up at last inside bonnet box,
where it was making itself useful as a
1 stand for my best hat. Oh, the strange
adventures of that pudding. 1t has
! Travelled all over India with us in its
tin case, and once it was really almost
lost for five months when we left A gra-
and it was packed away no one knew
b I
| my hands were full with him. Then
when our bungalow at Simla took fire
it must have got some cooking. AND
once, crossing a river, some of our bag
gage was upset, and the poor pudding
was all but washed down stream
Luckily one of our servants knew
had a sentimental fondness for that tiE
case lit had always seemed to me sucE
a curious idea of the old Iady's that he
J pudding should be a sign of mutuG
! good-wiIl), so he dived and brought il
! back with some trouble"
you gave him more rupees thar
! even his greed expected No matter,
was glad, too, not to lose my legacy,
said I, cheerily. ''Ah! here it comes
Look at the flames, Jim, lOolS!'
boo bazes,' calculated my son anC
heir, clapping his soft hands and chuck
7 | ling with delight.
r It was a fine pudding, and as it wa
placed before me, rich and dark annie
5 its leaping blue flames, 1 somewha