The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1892-10-08
VOL. XXVII.-NO. 49.

Almost in my enjoyment | had forgot
ten my mission, when right in the middle
of the road, only Il few PAGES ahead
barelegged urchin threw up his hat. |
screamed, but too late, for once again the
dark thing whirled, and with vicious yell,
the little rascal disappeared Nero reared
suddenly upon his launches, then wheel
ing like a thing possessed, took back
through the tangled wood Too frighten-
ed to think, | dropped the rein and fiat
tened myself against his neck, holding
with all my childish strength to the rising
and falling name. On, on, through the
brake and tangle, scraping me almost from
my seat, the frightened animal sped, on,
on-now back to the edge of the town.
With closed eyes | heardthe shouts of the
men, the scream Of the women to 'save the
little child !" | thought of my father, my
grandmother, Aunt Washington, the little
baby had never known. All now would
go on without me, they would never know
how | tried to make them all happy.
They would never know that it was not
childish prank-and I would have died, in
vain.
1t was morning-the sunlight fell ike
gold dust through the little diamond
panes. l was stiff and sore, my head was
bandaged and | could not move my arm.
must have been dreaming | thought
| was dead, but | was in my own little bed,
whose muslin curtains looked like snow in
the sunlight. Somebody sat at table,
netting, and there were tears in the eyes
that looked now and again upon my bed.
Was this my dmother-that tender
pain hers that lay upon brow and lip?
She stirred, closed my eyes again; per-
haps | dreamed but on my cheek | felt
such kisses rain as had never known in
all my orphaned life before, murmured
caresses, sending tender thrills to wake that
part of my young heart that would have
been my mothers. Was this my grand
mother? | must have dreamed, sheer
weakness fell upon me-tangled skeins and
smothered kisses drifted with the dream
For many days | balanced life and death
with fever, bruises and broken arm, hold
ing often through the weary night grand
mothers hand in mine; and then they came
from far to ask for me, and shame me with
a fair tale of my bravery. Twas wonder
full, they said, for such child as to sitso
firmly and so long.
One day, when all were gone and could
creep about like a small ghost from chair
to couch, from couch to chair again, my
grandmother had set down a tiny table
right before my chair, and on it Jeofry
placed the seed cakes and the wine I
breathed the very atmosphere of ceremony,
as my grandmother took a seat across
from my wan self. When | had drank and
choked, and half in fear had nibbed
cake, my grandmother leaned upon her
arm and looked at me. Frances, she
said in tones both grave and slow, speak
ing for the first time Of my escapade, "it
was naughty thing Of you to take your
fathers horse, wild ami vicious thing he
hardly dares to ride; it was a wicked thing
to steal away alone without permission,
though you must have had your reasons,
child, for you are not fool. What were
they, Frances; why did you go?' The
keen gray eyes were fixed upon my own
hard, inquisitive, uncompromising now; l
must have surely dreamed they ever look
ed in love. hung my head and whispered
''To fetch Aunt Washington home"
"And what affair was it of yours to in
termeddle? ?" demanded my grandmother.
With all my weakness, this was more
than | could bear. | fell upon my knees
and clasped my grandmother's skirts with
my unhurt arm. Because" l sobbed,
al don't want Aunt Washington's place;
| don't wan4 to be fine lady, as Jane
says | must; don't want any lessons, any
music, anything. Take her back, and the
little baby, too, grandmother-the little
baby that is just the same to you as / am
Jane said so Please let us all be happy,
and let me be good again"
My grandmother drew herself away and
looked at me. | must have been very
pitiful sight, with my bandaged arm and
great wide eyes, for my grandmother turn
ed and left the room without word. All
the morning | felt that | was under a
cloud; but about noon my grandmother
sent again for Barrister Quills, and over
the seed d-cakes and the wine was made a
party to the proceedings. | have not
very clear recollection as to what passed,
perhaps due to my years, or to the wine
to which | was unaccustomed, but that
night, as grandmother tucked me in my
crib and put out the light grandmother
always performed that Office for me when
there were no guests in the drawing -room)
she bent over me and whispered as gently
as her softened humor babe "My
Frances, she shall come
There were great preparations making
at the "Eims" for the reception Of the
Mistress Henry Lytle, my grandmother
irresistihly slurring the male portion in her
mention Of it. She never did anything by
| halves perhaps, excepting this, and such
baking and larding was unknown since my
, own dear mothers marriage The gentry
from far and near were hidden to feast,
the like of which was the superlative of
every comparison for many year. In some
way or other | was to figure as heroine,
though my small head unable to grasp
the reason why But it was all as good as
play, of which Aunt Washington told
me, where all the people were gay and
! marched off and on a stage. | was prank
B. ed out in a brocaded satin petticoat, and
? had my hair dressed most inappropriate to
my years; but Aunt Washington, or Aunt
Lytle, as | should properly call her, would
have it so; and Mistress Lytle's word was
7 not to be questioned. My arm, provoking
| ly slow to mend, was bound in one of
e Henry Lytles best neckerchiefs. My
grandmother was as gorgeous as grand
duchess, and happier, too, It's fair to wager,
than many another beside throne. To
r her granddaughter, her black satin train
| gave more the aroma of dignity than can
e ever again die with woman.
, Aunt Washington, beside her lover-hus-
band, wore the bridal robes she had not
worn in her hasty flight now with her
, mothers own permission, and amid the
blessings of us all.
5 Oh, how they danced | looked upon
them from my little chair nushed close