Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-08-06
MONICA.
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS
CHAPTER XIII.


and table, she says, in low, cautious tone, -
"A letter for You, miss"
AS she says this, she draws note from
beneath her apron, where, in herright hand,
1t has been carefully hidden,-sO carefully,
indeed, that she could not have failed to
create suspicion in the breast of babe.
Former says Kit, her guard for once.
YeS, miss
''Who brought it?''
"a bit of gossoon, miss, out there in the
yard beyant. An he wouldn't give me his
name; but sure l know him well for a boy
OF the Maddens', an one Of the Coole peo-
pie. His father, an his gran father before
him, were laborers with the ould SQUIRE
'Ah, indeedr' says Kit. By this time she
has recovered her surprise and her compos-
ure. Thank you, Bridget" she says, with
quite grandiloquent air; put it there, on
that table. 1t is Of no consequence, dare
say; you can CO."
Bridget-who, like all her countrywomen,
dearly likes love-affair, and is quite aware
of young Mr.. Desmond's passion for her
mistress-is disappointed.
THE gossoon said he was to wait for an
answer, miss" she says, insinuatingly. "An'
faix," waxing confidential, II think caught
sight of the coat-tails of Misther Desmond
HAL OUTSIDE the YARD gate.
you should never think on such occa-
sions, Bridget; and coat-tails are decidedly
J0lU," says the younger Miss Beresford, with
scathing reproof.
They weren't very low, miss. He wore
one O. them cut-aWay coats" says Bridget,
in an injured tone.
''You fail to grasp my meaning" says Kit.
| gravely. However, let it pass. If this note
requires an answer, you can wait in the next
room until I write it,
Then she tears open the envelope, and
reads as foIlows:-
DEAR LITTLE KIT, Owing you all the
love and allegiance in the world for having
helped me once, L come to you again. How
am l to pass this long day without glimpse
of her? 1t is a lOveSick swain who doth en-
treat your mercy Does any happy thought
run through your pretty head? If so, my
man is waiting for it somewhere; befriend
| me a second time. ever yours
BRIAN
| Prompt action is as the breath of her nos
trils to Kit. Drawing pen and ink toward
| her, without a moments hesitation, she
| ScrIbbleS an answer to Desmond
we are going toward Ballyvoureen this
| afternoon, to take pudding to old Biddy
! DAILY; any one CHANGING to walk there also
| might meet US. Count upon me always.
KIT"
This Macchiavelian epistle, which she
| fOndly believes to be without its equal in
| the matter Of depth, she folds carefully.
and, incIOSing it in an envelope void address
or anything (mark the astuteneSS of uldtD,
calls to Bridget to return to her.
4ou will find the boy you mentioned as
| being by birth a Madden, " she says austere-
| ly, land give him this; and you will refrain
from gossiping and idle talking with him,
which IS not convenient"
1t would be impossible to describe the
tone in which she says this. Bridget, much
| diSGusted, takes the note silently, and with
| sufficient nervousness to make itself known
Indeed, she IS so plainly impressed by Kits
| elOquence that the latter'S heart sings aloud
| for Joy.
Yes, miss" she says, in very subdued
! voice, and goes away with indignant haste,
to tell cook, as she passes through the kitch-
en-, that "Faix, Miss Kit might be her own
gran'mother,-she is so Ould an quare in her
ways"
Kit meantime goes in search of Monica,
with mind stored with crafty arguments
for the beguiling of that unconscious maid
en-. Hearing voices in the morning groom,
she turns in there, and finds the whole
family in conclave.
Miss Priscilla is speaking.
eyes, certainly think hospitality of some
sort should be shown them," she is saying,
with quite an excited flush on her dear old
ugly face. I'VE cannot, of course, do much;
but afternoon tea, now, and some pleasant
| people to meet them,-and Strawberries
and little stroll round the gardens-eh?
And, Penelope, you used to be great hand
at claret-cup in our dear fathers time; and
| then there is tennis. [ really think, you
know, it might be DONE"
us there going to be party here, Aunt
Priscila?" asks Kit, with enlarged eyes.
"Well, my dear, we are debating the pos
sibilities of it,-just the pros and cons" says
Miss Priscilla, precisely. Your aunt Pene-
| lope agrees with me that some attention is
due to those young men in Clonbree Bar
racks"
you are going to ask Captain Cobbett
and Mr.. Ryde herel Oh, what funv' cries
Kit, seating herself, minus invitation, on
Miss Priscila's knee, and twining her arms
round her neck. do you know, when with
mother we didn't dare call our souls our
own; but with you we are having real good
old times! Aren't we, now?'
''Oh, Kit!-my dear Kit!-you must not
speak so of your lost mother" cry the old
| ladies in breath, both greatly distressed.
l.
1t is true, for all that. When is it to be.
Aunt Pris?'
| Next week, suppose" says Miss Pene-
lope, promptly, seeing that Miss Priscilla is
still too agitated to reply. And / think,
perhaps, it would be rather nice to have tea
| in the orchard"
ooh! how quite too lovelyr' says Kit,
clasping her hands.
''Quite too utterly, consummately, precious
ly intense?" mutters Terence, soto Uoce, re-
garding Kit sideways, who returns his rap
turOuS glance with one full of ineffable dis
dain.
II hope Michael won't object" says Miss
Penelope, nervously. Michael is the gar
dener, and they are all, without exception,
afraid of him.
Nonsense, my dear! why should he%'
says Miss Priscilla. ut isn't because he
has been here for years that he is to forbid
us the use of our grounds, and of late con-
slider there is great fault to be found with
him. Long service should not generate neg
lect, and of late there has not been a good
lettuce or respectable dish Of asparagus in
the garden"
There wasn't even any thyme last week, 4"
says Kit, who maintains an undying feud
with Michael. HE had to get some fresh
plants from Cahirmore"
Time was made for slaves" says Terence,
meditatively. You aren't slave, are you?'
Il should hope not, says Kit, Jelly.
Then you can't want time; so don't wor-
~ that poor old man in the garden about it.
He hasn't scythe, or bald head, or dis
NAL forelock; so he can't know anything
about it,
'You are so clever" says the younger Miss
BereSford, with unmixed scorn, ''that Won
der something dreadful doesn't happen to
| Won -