Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-01-29

man. Perhaps You could bring in a
rage for chefs"
"Wil1 you be still?" cried Mrs. Ran
som, slightly stamping her authoritative
foot. What right, Agnes, have you to
badger your brother? You are greater
torment to me than all the rest put to-
gether, and when your Aunt Anita so
kindly offered to receive you for the
whole summer at Newport
"Oh, couldn't stand Aunt Anita a
whole summer" cried Agnes. she
would be throwing me at the heads Of
all the men despise. And then think
Of the martyrdom of having to wear my
old gowns made over and of hearing
people whisper at my back, There is
that Aggy Ransom trotted out again, so
soon after the family lnisfortunes, poor
AggyP My aunt's zeal in my behalf is
something terrible. No, mamma, am
not going to pretend to anything. The
rest of you may as much as you please.
am going to enjoy the luxury of being
poor and of earning my bread. Papa
gave me that little mountain farm as it
were by accident. He held a mortgage
on it, and it came to foreclosure and he
bid it in and tossed the deed into my lap
for birthday present, because we had
been together up there on horseback
many time and had taken fancy to
the place, and now it is mine and l am
going to live there where | shall hear no
unfeeling worldly tongues whispering
behind my back. There is nothing for
poor Aggy Ransom to do but to sell her
self to the highest bidder"
''And what is there?" cried Frank Hay
dock, furtively twanging IL string of his
banjo.
"To raise butter and eggs and spring
chickens, to sell milk and cream and
peddle berries and fresh vegetables"
Mrs. Ransom put her hands over her
ears, and her face wore the expression of
a tragic mask Don't tell me; won't
listen to it," she ciieC "You are mad,
obstinate, self willel girl, but you are of
age, and l cannot personally restrain
you. Good God! the idea of your ped
ding butter and eggs"
eyes, and fresh strawberries"
cried Agnes, letting out her voice in a
long, musical street cadence. "You will
be glad, mamma, of some of my garden
truck for your own table, and shall not be
mean. You may count on my dividing
with you a part of the profits of the
farm"
Profits" cried Mrs. Ransom, with an
accent of scorn. you, a mere baby, to
think of setting yourself up in business,
and without means. My only consola-
ton is in thinking you will soon fail
ANONYMOUSLY; but if you do, mind don't
look to me for penny"
"No, nor for silver groat, mamma.
Happily, l have resources of my own.
have sold all my trinkets in town for
good SUM. Your last maid managed the
business for me, and did it very well.
She has a good head. No, mamma;
burn my ships behind me, and look
henceforth only to my good right arm"
The Ransom family were late sleepers
and had cultivated those habits of lux
ury and indulgence which establish a
nine o'clock breakfast as the proper Or
der of things in wealthy house. Mrs.
Ransom was glad to bury her troubles in
slumber, and the young men had neither
business nor pleasure to call them up
early. The household had been placed
on the footing of two domestics, old
wornout pensioners of the family, who
were VIGOROUSLY slow and "poLy" in
their movements. The gardeners had
all been dismissed save one inefficient
lad, who also officiated as stable and err
rand boy, and the grounds were growing
up to weeds and bushes. The plants had
all been sold out of the greenhouses, and
there was only one old hack left in the
extensive stables, an animal no one cared
to bid off at the horse auction. At six
in the morning the house was still pro-
foundry silent. The chamber occupied
by Agnes was on the eastern side Of the
great mansion, and red dawn had
filed her room with rosy CLEANS and re-
Elections. She was up before five and
had dressed herself in one of her old
yachting suits-a dark blue serge, loose
in the waist, short to the neat boot top,
and belted trinity around the slender
form A sailor hat surmounted the rich
waves of gold brown hair out of which
she had vigorously brushed all the curl
and crimp possible, and had twisted in a
close Greek coil at the back of her head,
showing the pearly ear and the classic
profile, delicate. finely cut eyebrow,
forehead and straight nose, the proud
nostril, the beautiful curve of the lip
and softly rounded chin, all decisive,
clear, not colored pink and red, but with
a glowing undertone, caught from the
dark gold of the hair, where it waved in
little feather tresses around the ear and
brow. The hazel eye had a CLEAN of
spirit and dash in it, a dancing arch
light, under curled lashes, and the form
was supple and light in its vigorous.
healthful perfection.
She stood there in the early light draw
ing on pair Of old gloves and ready to
depart. But first she would take leave
of her old life. She opened the door of
her-closet and looked at her gowns hang
ing in rows-the flimsy ball dresses of
light, fluffy lace and gauze, the silks and
satiRs with elbow sleeves and corsage
knots and rich ribbons and bead orna-
Inents. The lovely little wraps, down
and furred. all the exquisite
of a young woman of
fashion. a belle and favorite in the gay
world. Then she softly opened the