The weekly Floridian. [volume] (Tallahassee, Fla.) 1867-19??, 1891-06-20

cheveux de fr1So or curl papers III
amt burglars, is it? Nor the fire de-
partment? Dear me, Cousin Melinda
what can you possibly be wanting at this
time Of night?
"Lucretia," said Miss Parkinson.
'shushl Come with me at once"
"Laws!" cried Mrs Larkins, hurriedly
shutting her feet into list slippers and
flinging on an ancient flannel dressing
gown. What is the matter? Amt no
body sick, is there''
"It's somnambulist," whispered Miss
Parkinson, as Mrs. LarHns joined her in
the hall. "a poor crazy creature on the
roof next door, all alone by herself, with
nothing but step between her and
death"
"Lal" said Mrs. Larkins, beginning to
tremble and develop strongly hysterical
symptoms. Are you sure, quite sure,
now, Melinda, that it amt the Limbur-
ger cheese settin' heavy on your stom-
ach? It don't agree with everybody, you
know. And"-
"Come and see for yourself" said Me-
linda; and she drew her cousin to the
curtained easement which commanded
the feline and the smoke blackened view
previously alluded to. There! Don't
you see her dress futter? Do you per-
ceive how dangerously near the parapet
wall she stands?'
"Oh, good gracious! cried Mrs. Lar
hns, covering her eyes with her hands.
Lets call Lemuel."
"Who is it that lives in the next
house?" demanded Melinda For we
must go there ourselves, Lucretia
There's no time to rouse up anybody"
"And Lemuel sleeps like log" said
Mrs Larkins, land always thrashes
round with his fists when he's reused up
sudden, thinkin' of burglars the very
first thing, poor dear. It's Mr.. Burnabee
as lives there, a manufacturer Of ladies'
felt skirts; quite decent and respectable.
Oh, yes, my dear; p'raps we'd better go,
then, or the poor dear'n fling herself
over the parapet, and it'll be clear case
for the coroner's inquest"
In the cloudy moonlight the two wom-
en- crept down stairs and rang loudly at
Mr.. Burnabees door.
There was a delay. There always is
delay after the ringing of a city door
bell. But to Miss Parkinson and Mrs.
Larkins there was delay which seemed
almost interminable before Mr.. Burma
bee appeared on the scene, a little old
red nosed man, with scanty gray hair, a
palm leaf patterned dressing gown, and
candle whose feeble fame fickered to
and fro while he held it shaded from the
night wind with one hand.
els it fire." SAID Mr.. Burnabee, "or IS
it accident on the elevated road? I've
always knowed it would come sooner or
later"
"The roof! The roofr' gasped Me-
linda
Save her!" shrieked Mrs. Larkins.
'Eh?' said Mr. Burnabee. Save
who? What are you talking about, la
dies?:"
THE sleepwalker!" cried Miss Parkin-
son. The poor creature who hovers
between life and death on the top of
this housed"
1--WE saw woman on the roof" ex-
planned Mrs. Larkins, land she wouldn't
answer when my cousin called to her,
and we're almost certain sure she's in
sane"
! Mr.. Burnabees wrinkled countenance
broke into smile.
"There amt no woman there" said
he.
Man." said Miss Melinda, you are
deceiving u.s."
Its nothing on earth" went on Mr..
Burnabee, but my wire dummy as fit
the skirts over. The roof leaked all over
her new pink cambria slip in the hard
shower yesterday, SO jest set her out on
the roof to dry. put her out at night,
because knowed if | did it in the day
time there'd be no end Of people asking
questions and minding everybody else's
business but their own"
"Oh" said Miss Parkinson. rather
awkwardly.
''Of course" said Mrs Larkins, biting
her lip.
Much obliged to you, all the same, -
said Mr.. Burnabee blandly. although he
still chuckled.
And the two women crept home again
"Lucretia." said Miss Parkinson
OppOSltC ACl OW OOOI
"Ww-well!" faltered Mrs Larhins
scarcely able to repress her sEivering.
Don't speak of this to any one, will
your
mo. won't" said Mrs. Larkins.
But it is to be feared that she did not
keep her word. for Mr.. Larkins was full
of dark illusions the next day, and Miss
Persephone could scarcely speak for
laughing.
Miss Parkinson purchased her pat
terms, and secured her summer styles,
and FASTENED speedily back to Center
vile, and ever since she declares that all
the wealth of the Indies would not in
duce her to live in that sink Of iniquity
and head center Of mystery, New York!
And if people ask her why, she only
shakes her head and says mysteriously:
Never mindr'-Amy Randolph in
New York Ledger.
WHERE ARE THEY N0W2