The Press., 1893-12-07

CEAPIER W.
 Gregory, discreetly ignoring this pic ture of maternal solicitude, walked or and ascended the porch. He knocked al the door, but no one replied to his sum mons. He waited. All was silent, al though he stood at the gate of an en chanted castle.
 Resolving to wait until some one wa. ready to answer him, Gregory turned from the door and began to pace ths porch. The sound of his footstep. brought little mongrel dog from the mysterious interior of the mansion-s dog who seemed to resent his presence and who began to bark savagely, paus ing at intervals to snarl and growl.
 This noise had not continued many seconds before the young woman in tho hammock aroused herself. She opened her eyes, turned her head toward tht house and sat up. Perceiving the figure of man upon the porch, she detached the infant from her bosom, adjusted hel dress, groped in the hammock for los hairpin, which she found at last in tht baby's chubby fist, arranged her hail with more haste than elegance and came slowly up the path, her slipshod shoes Tapping behind her.
 "Well," she said, pausing at the foot of the steps, Looking for somebody mister?' she spoke snappishly and drowned upon him as she did so.
 "Yes, madam, for MT. Bud," said Gregory, taking off his hat.
 His politeness seemed to propitiate the young mother. She smiled.
 "Well, mister" she said in gentler tones, ''they is Budses here, but not any MT. Bud. Poor payer has been dead quite some time. Was it payer you wanted? Jefferson his name was."
 "It is R. Bud for whom I am in search, 8 literary man, an anthor," re- piled Gregory.
 Writes books?" asked the young woman.
 "Yes," said Gregory, "yes, madam"
 ''Pshaw!" cried the young woman. "Well, declare! R. Bud-I know now. Sit down in the parlor. and I'll go up and see."
 She ascended the steps with the baby over her arm as waiter carries nap kin, pushed open a door-one just with in the outer entrance-and bade him en- ter with a nod.
 It was an apartment full of that de- pressing gloom and chill which belong to the ordinary rural best parlor.
 There were ancient shades at the win dows decorated with scenes upon the Rhine in wlach ruins figured conspicu- ously, and red and green ingrain car pet much darned, some cane chairs, a table which supported group of wax fruit in black basket, and many speci- mems of humble fancy work-autumn leaves gummed and pinned to paste board backgrounds, air castles, card baskets in perforated board and photo graphs in acorn frames.
 A kerosene lanpperfulned the air. and the grate was hidden behind "'grate apron" made elaborately of small. oval sections of pink and green tissue paper, fringed and curled, a thing that died of it's own hideousness 20 years ago, and of which this perhaps was the only sur viving specimen.
 Gregory had looked at this monstrosity for want of more interesting object of contemplation for 10 minutes, when some one ran lightly down the stairs, ap- preached the parlor door and stood there for 8 moment in 8 timid, hesitating way.
 It was young girl, slender and fair, with delicate, regular features, little pink mouth and large blue eyes, as clear and bright as those of a baby. Her fair hair, which was of the rarest shade, that blond which has no gold in it, was gathered in one thick braid at the back of her head and tied midway with blue ribbon that might have been cut from the same piece as that which bound the manuscript which was Gregory's req son for being where he was at the mo. ment.
 She also wore blue lawn dress, some what faded and little shrunken, and little blue belt with a mother of pearl buckle.
 Shabby as the costume was, Gregory instinctively comprehended that this was not her everyday attire and that she had arrayed herself with care to receive him. Was this Miss Bud? Was she the authors daughter? She seemed too young to be anybody's wife He arose lowing. She advanced with little po- lite motion of the head.
 "How do you do?' she said. Sister says you want to see R. Bud"
 Il have come from New York to see Mir. Bud," he said. "Is he at home?"
 "Take a seat" she answered. You must be tired. suppose you came in the stage. heard it stop. You want to see R. Bud?'
 Ut is about the manuscript of nov el," said he. II come from the publish CTS. am Gregory Blanchard, the jun for of the firm. May ask if''-
 "Yes," said the girl, interrupting him. II knew about them, because the min ister's wife had the book of pieces for the school children to speak published there. That is how found out It is very hard to find things out up here"
 Naturally" he answered. He was thinking as he looked at her that she bore much resemblance to little mild
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