Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1891-12-24

umes of smoke into the crisp morning
air fails to give him the accustomed
solace. There is as yet no sign of life
in the street. His gaze is fixed intently
on a small house a couple of blocks
away, before which big sign affixed
to a post announces that it lathe habi-
tation of Mrs. Evesham, nMliner and
dressmaker."
At last the watcher is rewarded by the
sound Of wheels and the creaking of un.
CREASED axles, and he sees Mr.. James
Dolman of Havana make his appear
ance behind his two shaggy ponies and
drive straight to the garden-gate of the
widows cottage.
The wooden-faced farmer is not kept
long waiting. There is hum of femi-
nine voices, the door opens, and Wanda
Arlington comes forth, looking in her
white muslin dress and broad straw hat
so fresh and pretty that even old Bla-
don's eyes soften with honest admira-
ton. She is accompanied by Mrs. Eve
sham and Kate, the former not looking
much older than when we saw her If
teen years ago; the latter developed
into handsome young woman of four
nd-twenty-indeed. hers is beauty
you do not meet with every day.
Though in all respects she is contrast
to the girl around whose waist her arm
is encircled, you cannot but confess that
she has as great reason to be con-
sidered perfect type of her peculiar
style as Wanda Arlington herself. The
one, the violet; the other, the rose.
The one, soft, sweet, modest, radiant,
like delicate flower with a CLEAN of
sunshine on it; the other, dark, vigor-
GUS, Juno-lilxe, as the rainbow-hued
plant nurtured by the misunderstanding
sun of the tropics.
Wanda kisses the dear ones good-by
and steps lightly into the seat beside
Farmer Dolman. who, like most coun-
try yokels, is subdued into silence in
the presence of ladies. He can scarce
find words to refuse Mrs. Evesham's
offer of refreshment. Then, amid
much waving of handkerchiefs and
many last expressions of affection on
the part of the women folk, the
charioteer rasps the horses mouths
with vicious jerk of the rein, utters a
long-drawn-out ''Git a-u-pl" and the
equipage moves away.
Not until it is quite out of sight, and
the widows door has been closed, does
William Bladon stir-then taking one
last look up the silent street, he knocks
the ashes from his pipe and turns his
steps towards rustic seat under an
apple tree in the orchard, muttering
with intense satisfaction: Thank our
lucky stars, that little baggage be of "A
lastl''
In this pleasant retirement, with
nothing to disturb him but the wild
note of the blackbird or the merry
chirp of the sparrow, he sits for long
time lost in silent meditation.
Then, a sudden thought seems 30
strike him. He deliberately takes of
his waistcoat and sets to work with hiss
knife to pick out some stitches, which
had bound an inner pocket of the gar
ment. This accomplished, he draws
forth large leather wallet from which
he extracts a number of papers careful
ly folded, some of them in sealed en-
velopes. At last he finds what he Is
looking for. photograph. On this he
concentrates his attention, gazing at it
for a long time with fixed eagerness-
It is the portrait of young and beauti-
full woman, and more and more puzzled
is the expression on the old mans face
IS his eyes rest on the perfect features.