The Republican., 1892-01-01

gathered round the table. 1t is a small,
round table, chosen tonight for cozi-
ness, so that my wife and / are near
each other, and our FIVE year-old heir
sits between us, with his golden head
not very high above the tablecloth.
Opposite him sits Thorold, a true and
tried friend to us both and comrade
of mine. Maude is more lovely than
ever in my eyes. Just as winning and
laughing but glorious woman instead
of mere charming girl She looks es-
pecially beautiful tonight in new ball
gown, triumph of exquisitely fitting
satin about the bodice, and of bewilder-
ing fuffiness as to the skirt, while her
bare, snowy neck and bosom rise out
of some soft yelling accessories that an
Eangel might not disdain to take pattern
by as trimming to spirit robe.
"Ah! 1t is pity you have not got
Aunt Agg's diamond necklace to wear
tonight. You would make all the
other women faint with envy them"
remarked, affecting critical air, but
inwardly full of pride as surveyed
my wife's appearance. We were going
to dance at Government house after
ward; it was to be the thing of the
season.
"If had, l should be the haupiest
woman in India" laughed Me
back ''As it is, perhaps, .L4azdS 3Gd)
happiest But it is too bad they
should have disappeared so mysterious
ly; or rather that no living being
seems to know what your aunt did
with them-and she is dead"
what is the story? Tell us allabout
| it., put in Thorold. "Was that the old
lady who cut you off with, l suppose, the
probverbial shilling for marrying mine
hostess here, like q wise and lucky
man?"
"My dear fellow. She cut me off
with plum pudding" ruefully ex-
planned. THE very pudding you are
soon about to be regaled with. The
story is briefly, as you know, that
was disinherited for not consenting to
marry Miss Margaret Mackintosh.
whom my aunt wished to go with the
property, SO to speak. And a year
later, that is, six months after we were
married, my cousin, Dicky Colson. was
welded to the aforesaid Miss Mackin-
tosh, and came in for all my relatives
fortune four years ago. May they
both be happy ever after But my
poor aunt must have had yearning
for me still in her hard old heart, for
before her death Gt was some time in
autumn) she wrote me a strange let
ter. 1t was to this effect:
DEAR HENRY-You know / was always
woman OF my word, so it will be no surprise to
you that have left my fortune to your cousin
Richard. But hearing that your wife is pretty
young woman, and wellbehaved (that is o
feather In your cap, Maude isn't ity send
you my forgiveness. And you will receive
further plum pudding, prepared by my own
hands, which desire you will have served up
at your own table on New Years day when
ever you feel In your heart that you likewise
freely forgive the memory Of your aunt
AGATHA UPcHER
p. S.-The doctors tell me may get better
of my illness. But they are all idiots or cow
ards for shall not
"And she was right, poor old lady, for
she died one week later. The curious
thing was that, in her will, she said:
i have already given my diamond
necklace to Henry Upcher, my dear
nephew. who will receive it safely. /
trust, some future day. That is all.
And though Margaret-Mrs. Colson,
mean-has hunted for that necklace
everywhere, though she has consulted
detectives, and taken every trouble, be-
sides writing us the kindest of letters,
the necklace was nowhere to be found
after my aunt's death. 1t is clean
gone, vanished. No one seems to
blame. The diamonds were usually
kept at the bank, and my aunt herself
took them away few days before her
death"
Stolen" remarked Thorold, dryly.
"And no doubt broken up before your
venerable relative was even buried
But how does it come that you have
waited four years to feast OH this leg
acy?"
ut has gone through such vicissi-
tudes"-Maude was eagerly beginning,
though in faltering tone. With stern
truthfulness l interrupted her wifely
and womanly attempt to glaze the ugly
truth. because / am ashamed to say
that till tonight, / never could bring
myself to fully and freely forgive my
Aunt Agg. The first New Year was
still sore, after having been cut out of
my promised fortune. The second one
this little woman here was i'll, because
had not been able to afford change
up to the hills for both of us, and she
gallantly refused to leave me. The
third one-what did happen that third
New Year, Maude?"
''The plum pudding could not be
found" cried Maude, laughing 1T
turned up at last inside bonnet box,
where it was making itself useful as a
stand for my best hat. Oh, the strange
adventures of that pudding. 1t has
travelled all over India with us in its
tin case, and once it was really almost
lost for five months when we left Agra,
and it was packed away no one knew
| where, because little Jim was i'll, and
my hands were full with him. Then,
when our bungalow at Simla took fire,
1t must have got some cooking. And
once, crossing river, some of our bag
gage was upset, and the poor pudding
was all but washed down stream.
Luckily one of our servants knew
had sentimental fondness for that tin
case lit had always seemed to me such
a curious idea of the old lady's that her
pudding should be a sign of mutual
good-wilD, so he dived and brought it