The Press., 1891-10-01

rior excellence of Littleield society. A few hours had made all the difference. From utter loneliness she had leaped into the best Littlefield set. The Ashleys certainly were at the top of the tree. And had not Miss Ashley asked perlnis- sion to call?
 "Edith March" young Ashley kept re- beating over to himself as he restlessly wandered from the veranda to the hall and from the hall to the library. Where had he heard the name? It seemed to haunt him. He went over to a pile of magazines on the library table, and se- lecting one by chance opened at the ta- ble of contents. By love, here it is, Fanny" and he thlshed into the drawing room with the book in his hand. "She is literary, and here is one of her stories" :"
 "Of whom, pray, are you talking, Harold?"
 "Why of that girl, of course, who found the old party up in the woods-Miss March. The name has been haunting me ever since heard it. And do you know recall now letter had yester- day from Stevens, who is up at Tamerack Camp with a young geologist named March. He says he is a capital fellow, and has sister who writes. Of course it must be the same"
 "Why, Harry" said Miss Trevor, smil- ing up at him from her reclining chair, ''you look as if you had found a gold mine."
 Edith had been up three hours labor ing at her story in the dewy freshness of the morning when 8 smart dog cart with a groom on the back seat and high stepping horse driven by MT. Harry Ash ley entered Ford's alley at lively pace and stopped at Mrs. Northups door. The good woman, when she answered the summons, was electrified to find smil. ing young man on the doorstep who in- quired if Miss March lived there, and de livered to her dainty billet, intimating that he would wait for an answer. She came panting up the steps to Edith's room with Margery clinging to her gown. Edith took the note abstractedly, an- noyed to be interrupted in her work, but when she had opened it and read her face colored with blissful emotion. It was an invitation from Fanny Ashley to join yachting party on the river for Thursday.
 ''Mr. Ashley said a verbal message would answer" the landlady remarked, fairly bursting with curiosity to know why the Ashleys should be running after Miss March.
 'Tell him, please, I accept with pleas ure," said Edith, pink and smiling with unexpected happiness. Why should she deny herself holiday-just this one?
 ''She accepts with pleasure, said Mrs. Northup to herself, as she went down stairs, Margerys light steps pattering behind. 'Well, never did see the beat of that. The girl is witch. And how did she get in with them Ashleys, the proudest, stiffest, uppercrust folks ill Lit tlefield?"
 There was no more writing possible for Edith that day. She sat ani dreamed for an hour with Fanny Ashley's per fumed note in her hand, while the yellow jacket plastered his clay house on the beam over her head. Her own story was too absorbing to allow her to go on weaving fictitious webs Some thing so new and delightful had come into her life she felt obliged to give her self up to the luxury of her sensations. Then she awoke to the fact that she had no clothes wherein to appear before fash ionable people. Her old garments seemed to rise up and shame her. She had torn her only possible gown the day she brought Celestina Rivers through the brambles, and it seemed out of the power of thread and needle to darn that "trap door" in the skirt so as to remove the But she had promised to go on the yachting party, and her heart beat quick and fast at the thought. The writing table was pushed against the wall, and the remainder of the long day was spent in repairing her wardrobe; for Edith was as quick with her needle as her pen when she set herself to the task.
 The accusing trap door darn was neatly hidden under the fold of the gown, the cracked boots were mended and renewed with liquid blacking, the old gloves were deftly repaired, and the long slits in her black lace sash drawn up with cunning art. Some new trim ming for the old hat was even discovered at the bottom of the box, crumpled feather, that recurled by aid of skill full penknife looked almost as good as new, and with the work of her quick fingers was blended many happy girlish dreams. It was almost dark before Edith had finished furbishing, brushing and dusting, and then she had only just time to run over to the hospital and in- quire after Miss Rivers. The old lady was much better, had come back to con- sciousness, and asked in a feeble voice after her young rescuer. She had also expressed solicitude in regard to her MS. volume of poems. Edith went to bed delightfully."- dreamy, as if she had eaten hasheesh, only to see her hopes of literary fame melt and fuse in warm indefinite vision of luxurious happiness.
 She awoke next morning under the spell to note flock of purple clouds in the sky, rosy light over the tree tops and the sparkle of dew on the plants and flowers in Mrs. Northup's little garden. She dressed herself, with the influence of the dewy, star genmed dawn still hang ing about her. She was still young and believed in miracles. It was two hours DELICIOUS MINCE FEES
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