The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1892-06-01
SeIerteo Storp.
cat HOme."

small tables, DOCKS ana tribes That make
the room look homelike, arrange the sofas
and chairs against the walls, order in more
lights and more flowers than are deemed
sufficient for ordinary home eyes and noses
exhibit your lion or lioness, let your guests
be more numerous than your cubic feet of
space, cook them for an hour in a gas heat
ed atmosphere-and the desired result is
attained.
Next morning will appear in The NJ
P lin very small type) the following
paragraph:
Mrs. Leo Hunter had a reception last
night at 1904 Chapel street, which was
very numerously attended. Among the
guests were the Finland ambassador and
Nine. Kandainsha, Lord and Lady Tom
noddy and Hon. Misses Tomnoddy (three),
Mgr. O'Lara, General Sir Caractacus and
Lady Bombastes, Mr.. Monaghan, Mr.. lie
Ching and Others"
The next night Mrs. Leo Hunter ascends
Lady Tomnoddy's staircase, and finds her
ladyship lat home' on the landing, and
shakes hands with the butler, under the
impression that he is her host. So he is
for the night-has he not control of the
wine cellarP Even John, the footman,
says to the young Hon. Master Tomnoddy
"Come now, can't ave you fngerin my
plate" My" plate, forsoothl And this
is being lat BONE"
do not often attend such festivities, as
my lot is cast in the country, but once
year stay with an elderly cousin in South
Eaton place, and she takes me prescribed
course" of theaters, concerts and lat
homes" much as later in the year she ad-
journs to Homburg or Kissengen, and goes
through course" of baths and tumblers
of highly favored water
1t is 1.-The thing" to do, so she does it,
with a large expenditure of time, money
end pasteboard. Pasteboard is the ammu-
milton that carries the outworks, storms
the strongholds and is left afterward with
other debris when the battle is over-meta-
phorically speaking.
When | make my yearly appearance in
fashionable society, | look around with
amusement at the heads of the young ladies
of the period. One year their amber, chest
nut, or dusky tresses according to your
favorite novelist) fall in loose knots at the
nape of the neck, the next they creep slowly
up the head and cluster in sausagelike
curls on the extreme top next birds nest,
then a pineapple resting at an angle of
As dogs. Meanwhile my own plaits remain
harmlessly where habit, and not fashion,
has decreed is the proper place for them.
Some kind friend told me the other day
that Jack Frost had laid a stealthy finger
upon me, and, looking at myself in strong
light, saw some silvery threads here and
there. Let them be- | could not grow
younger if l would, and l would not if
could. God is merciful-he does not re-
quire me to go through the past again.
Once more | am an onlooker at Lady
Etheldreda's lat home" know my host
slightly; he took me into dinner last week
at Cousin Elizabeth's house, and for two
hours we discussed the weather, the menu
and fair trade, or free trade-I forget
which. | know my hostess gold colored
dress as well as / know her; she wore it on
the same occasion, but | do not know
their guests.
The noise in the large drawing room re-
minds me of the parrot house at the 20
illogical gardens, but perhaps that is only
because | am not a human macaw or cock
atoo myself. Cousin Elizabeth has wan
dered off with an elderly diplomatist |
am hemmed in by a fashionably stout
young matron and an attenuated young
man. 1t is impossible to move, so | resign
myself and listen to their conversation.
People do not usually confde secrets at the
top of their voices.
$50 he went to Australia" the young
matron finishes her story impressively.
But why" urges the young man, who
has evidently not been attending.
mo one knows exactly. He was really
clever, you know, wrote books" lin a tone
of awe, land went everywhere. He was
private secretary to Disraeli or Gladstone
or somebody, and the girls father quar-
relied with him about politics, and forbade
him the house. And she was a patient
Gri1 oil nj nf a or "
"And Crufton went to Australia" the
young man repeats thoughtfully. "He
was in my year at Cambridge, and my
first friend. | should like to see him
again; some one told me he was coming
home"
The conversation interests me. So an
other girl mean middle aged woman
has been sacrificed to her fathers within.
She to politics, to trade. When Neville
Surtees asked me long ago. in that pleas
ant May term at Cambridge, to be his
wife, had consented gladly, readily; but
when he asked my father to give his con-
sent, a very serious blow awaited us.
"Who is Neville SurteesS" asked my
father blandly. II will never give my
only child to anybody. The Surtees are in
trade, the son is to be partner? No mat
ter that he is clever and an unpaid secre-
tary to cabinet minister all the more
fool he, my dear, for doing somebody S
dirty work without getting paid for it. If
you marry Surtees, Dulce, you will never
have farthing of my money, and what is
more, you will never see my face again.
So choose between u.s. You know | mean
what | say"
How well remember his look, his eyes
glittering, his whole face set in lines OF
obstinate Immortality. Yes, knew that
he meant what he said, and calling tC
mind the lesson my mother taught me
before she left this weary life, namely
that "honoring" your parents included
Glowing" and "obeying" them, I-sent
Neville away.
What matter that my heart broke? He
could not have cared, for all these weary
years he never sent me one word of remem
brance, not even when-l became free.
| heard through other friends that h'
had thrown up his secretaryship and hi
brilliant literary career, and had gon'
abroad as a manager Of a colonial brancl
of his fathers business, but never anything
more. Never anything more!
''There he isl There is Crofton"
nba voione brouE I'm ar, nav raxa,ia an1