The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1891-06-06

old creature must be crazy. What
does she suppose we can do with d
rag carpet? Why, Maud's drawing
room is in moquette, and the bed
rooms are in body Brussels ! A rag
carpet. indeed | am surprised
And in the first flush OF her NOR
tifcation Maud Ellison sat down and
wrote a crisp note to Aunt Judith,
utterly declining the gilt, which shy
pronounced in (violet ink) to be
doubtless very nice, but quite un.
suitable to her needs. And perhaps
Aunt Judith could give it to some
poor neighbor who could use it
Don't want it, eh? said Aunt
Judith, with a visible darkening o!
the face, when the bundle came
lack, accompanied by an unpaid ex-
press bill and Maud's smoothly in
Solent note.
Unsuitable Some poor neighbor!
Well, | declare And my best rag
carpet that wove myself | wonder
what some people expect to come to.
Well, if one OF the brides won take
it, perhaps the other will
Oh, Aunt Judith cried Pamela.
That beautiful rag carpet For me
1t don't seem possible ! Oh, | shall
be SO proud to have it And your
own work, too ! How nice my parlor
will look d! Dear, dear Aunt Judith,
how can l thank you enough
You needn't try, said Aunt Judith.
You are a good girl, and there S
more common sense in your little
finger than in Maud Ellison's whole
frivolous body
Miss Ellison's wedding was de-
scribed in all the daily papers, down
to the very pattern of her veil and
the name of the modiste who de-
signed the white satin dress. Pamela
Parr was married very quietly, and
all the wedding tour she had was the
walk across the yellowing fields
home from church. But Pamela was
perhaps as happy as the city bride
when she came into her little house
and saw the gay stripes of the rag
carpet on her floor.
1t seems almost like a welcome,
don't it, Johno said she, with a
smile that seemed to light her plain
face into positive beauty.
Aunt Judith died that same
autumn. sitting quietly in her chair:
And in her will she was iound to
have left all Of her property. real
and personal, to the niece who pos
Sessed the rag carpet.
It's quite ridiculous, said MIR.
Maynard, who had come
down with his wife, like pair of
well dressed vutures, to the funeral.
Such will as that can't possibly
stand IN any court of law.
| guess we'll risk it, said old
Squire Vandenburg, who had drawn
out the will.
| shall contest it, said Maynard.
My wife IS equally an heiress with
Mrs. Story.
She would have been if there
hadn't been a will especially naming
one particular person, said the
squire.
After all, said Mr.. Maynard. sud
lenly veering around, the old house
md patch of barren rocks aren't
worth much
They wouldn't be, shrewdly re-
marked the squire, ii the Hardback
Railroad Company hadn't just Of
cred ten thousand dollars for the
and to erect a station and run their
inc through.
Mr.. Maynard turned sharply to
lis wife.
It's all your fault, Maud, said he.
You gave the old woman mortal
'fense when you refused that rag
>arpet. | never saw a woman with.
10 little judgment as you have
You are always blaming me,
vhined Maud. wish had neve-
eft my mother | wish had
l-never married you
SO do |, said Mr.. Maynard,
artlv.
And Pamela Story, listening to
his spicy Aside" came to the con
;lusion that she was perhaps the
happier of the two brides.