The great West. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1889-18??, 1891-01-02

uer nome anu lake her way towards
the grove they were delighted. Up
to their dormitory they rushed, and
through the opera glass soon beheld
the musician picking his way along
the dusty road. He had on a blue
necktie. and wore a rosebud in his
button hole, and before he entered the
grove he paused and busted his
boots with an old pocket-handker-
chief, which he afterwards carefully
concealed in his coat-tail pockets,
while he arranged q snow-white and
spotless one SO that it's edge should
be just visible above his heart.
''If we could only see them meet"
said LOttie.
st would be dangerous" said Ida.
II believe we have committed for
gerry"
Grace began to cry.
II declare, we have been too bad"
said she. 81 don't mind about
Peter, but Miss Chesney will feel aw-
fully"
Meanwhile that lady was waiting
in the grove, and shortly heard a
a step upon the path which led to the
road. She waited hardly daring to
look up until a figure stood before
her: then she lifted her eyes. She
had expected to see a squalid object
in rags, or at least patches; the neat
appearance of the musician relieved
her mind. Hespoke at once:
ut is SO good of you to meet me
here" he said. II have known for
some time that you were teaching
in this school, but the painful cir
cumstances of our last meeting
deferred me from making myself
known"
cit is long while ago." said Miss
Chesney, looking down. But / am
glad you. still consider me your
''My very dearest. while 1 live,"
said Peter Palmer, smiling, land
that you have proved your conf
dence in me by-by what you have
DONE"
II always felt," said Peter, chat
Others were to blame"
"They were,'' said Prudence.
sstSome falsehoods were uttered. No
matter, those who uttered them are
now no more" ~
~ ssBut we live" said Peter, with en-
phasis. Prudence was regaining her
composure which had been o little
disturbed by recognizing IN the mu-
stefan an old friend, one indeed to
whom she had been engaged at the
age of eighteen, and whom she had
never quite forgotten.
eve will talk of the present." said
she. II desire to assure you of my
sympathy with your distress"
'sIt changes, as you speak, to hap
piness and hope" said Peter.
-9i"If my power were equal to my
will, you would suffer no more, ''said
Prudence. '.But. unhappiiy, / am en-
tirely dependent ON my own resourc-
es. NY poor father failed before he
died, and I have only a limited sala-
'ry; still, have saved something
enough. l hope, to take you to Lon
don, and you are very, very welcome
to it, ~
Here she took from small reti-
rule upon her arm an envelope which
she handed to Peter. He, for his
part, stared at her in astonishment,
growing crimson as he did so. -
''Ten pounds is not much," said
Prudence. But"
.'You are Offering me ten pounds?"
asked Peter.
eyes, only that; but can't you go
to London with it," asked Prudence.
Il believe the tickets
"You want me to go to London?"
asked Peter. "Why?"
''Unless 1 misunderstood your
note, Mr.. Palmer, you hope for a
position under government there, "
said Prudence. 4.... =
MY motel" repeated Peter. "Have
I answered your kind letter and for
gotten that / did so?" At all
events, I never dreamed of a politi-
cal situation anywhere. Really, Miss
Chesney, there is some strange mis-
take"
"My kind letter!" cried Prudence.
MIR. Palmer, l did not even know
that you were in the village until
you wrote to me asking-that is, al
luding to our old friendship and your
ill-fortune."
Here is your note" said Mr..
Palmer, taking the letter from his
bosom.
"And here is yours" said Miss
Chesney, opening her reticule.
THE girls of the first class are re-
sponsible for this" said she.
''For this also" said Peter. CLAP
PLY, by good luck, and though lead
ing quiet life, l am rather we'll of
than otherwise; happy and content,
but for memory OF the past that
will recur.''
81 am deeply mortified" began
Miss Chesney.
Then Peter Palmer drew closer IA