Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-02-29
CHAPTER Nv.
KATE Has AN ADVENTURE.

So Miss Balderstone's romance vTas
crushed in the bud ere it had attaiIed
maturity, and she set out for Brighton
to enjoy her well-earned holiday, but
not before she had seen to the departure
of mademoiselle and her young charge
for the farmhouse near Chertsey on the
Thames.
England boasts no fairer scene than
the banks of this beautiful river, wind
ing among grassy meadows and verdant
woodlands, and Willoughby farmhouse
was just the large, rambling, old-fash-
toned, picturesque building in which to
get the most enjoyment out of the love-
ly landscape. Moreover, John Barlow,
its yeoman owner, and Dame Deborah,
his wife, seemed to have been especially
fitted by Providence to dispense its hos
armed, blue-eyed daughter Nellie,
whose rustic beauty might have made
her the heroine of pastoral poem.
To Kate Grahame the quiet retire
ment of this lovely spot was as heal
ing balm, bringing color to her cheeks
and peace to her mind, though must
confess that Mile. Campignon, who re-
garded a COW as a wild animal with
chronic designs on her personal safety,
and dreaded even covering the tips
of her toes with the morning dew,
pinned for the gay streets and brilliant
,boulevards of her adored Paris.
The days flew by with winged speed.
Old Caesar, the house-dog, n lineal de-
scendant of the famous mastiffs of the
Belvoir valley, had taken the young
girl under his especial patronage, and
woe-betide the tramp who should dare
to modest her in their daily scampers
down grassy lanes or lonely country
roads.
1t was Cesar, however, who brought
her into the vortex of her first adven-
ture in this scene of Arcadian simple
ity, where one would think that
young lady would be as free from
startling incidents as though she were
immured in the walls of well-regula-
ted schoolroom, and it happened in this
way.
Mademoiselle had a headache -
which meant that she was anxious to
retire to q hammock under the apple
trees in the orchard and feast her soul
on the thrilling incidents of French
novel, of which she always pictured
herself as the heroine - and Kate and
her four footed friend started on a ram
BILE down the river bank. 1t was q
lovely morning for a walk, for, though
the July sun shone with unwonted ra-
dance, fresh western breeze famed
the air and made tiny white-caps on the
ruffled stream.
Kate stood on a little knoll enjoying
the pretty landscape, her hand resting
on the great dogs head, when-whiffi
gust of wind swept the dainty straw
hat from her head, whirled it like q
kite in the air, and dropped it ignomin-
iously into the middle of the current,
where the small eddies played around
it and bore it triumphantly to the weir,
hundred yards below, lodging it at
last in little island of willows just
above the miniature Niagara.
The girl, with a little moue of comica
distress, appealed to the mastiff fol-
assistance, but the honest fellow re
sponded with a mute reproach in hi
brown eyes, as much as to say that he
was not that kind of a dog at all.
"Fetch it, Cessarl Fetch it. sirl" she
cried, impatiently stamping her foot.
He bounded round her and barkcd
but made no effort to recover her los
headgear; but in his gambols he ap
preached the verge of the high bank
and Kate, vexed at his stupidity, gav'
him push which sent him with grea
splash into the stream. Cesar wa
strong and superb swimmer, but, hlk'
his Saxon ancestors, was nightly
afraid of a cold bath, and instead o
striking boldly out into the river, mad
intellectual attempts to scale the preci
pice, only succeeding, however, Ia pull
ing down the red clay into the wate
and exhaustipe himsclf IN ihis lrnntl