The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-04-29
ON THE WAY HOME.
The Happy Ending Of a Pleasant
Summer Vacation.

"Good-by, girls, good-by. I don't
know how to thank you. feel as
grateful as the midgets who profit by
the fresh air fund. Yes, of course I'll
write. aud-be sure to come out and
see me as soon as you can-good-byr!"
Dorothy Adams spoke rather sorrow
fully and leaned out of the car window
with reckless disregard for passing
trains to catch the last glimpse of the
merry party of girls who were waving
good-by.
Was it really the end of her beau
tiful summer?
She settled back in her chair and
tried to prepare herself for looked
such an u~npromising future: but try as
she would her thoughts went back to
her life that summer SO different from
anything she had ever before x
perienced
Queerville, Dorothy's home, is a de-
hghtful little place, just far enough
from Boston to be independent of it,
and in this respect it is wonderfully
like its inhabitants, who, having them
selves or their ancestors lived in Queer
vile for the past two hundred years or
more, are sufficient unto themselves
and perhaps a trihe contemptuous Of
those who have not had such adj
vantages.
The academy at Queerville, like
everything and almost everybody else.
is an institution of age, and for many
years an Adams has been master there.
And it has long been the regret of
DIR. Adams life hat Dorothy, his
daughter. should not have been iona
than, his son, SO that Queerville could
be spared the shock of seeing a Smith
possibly eve a Jones-as his uc-
cessor.
But during the last few years strange
notions had crept into Queerville, and
DIR. Adams had willingly grown to
think that in these days of woman's adj
vancement it would be most fitting for
Dorothy. whom he had given a most
classical training and who had thrown
herself heart and soul into his work
for Dorothy herself to become in time
master" Of Queerville academy.
To this project Dorothy had given
eager assent, and it was after no little
pleading that her Philistine cousin
Mildred. who lived in Boston, had won
over Dorothy and her father to her
w plan for the summer.
Accordingly the last day of June had
found Dorothy with the Wards aboard
the boat bound for Bar Harbor, and
perhaps her gratitude had been shad-
owed by the thought that it was some
thing OF a condescension for one Of
the Queerville Adamses to be part of
such %frivolity.
"But it didn't last long thought
Dorothy, peering out Of the car win
dow for comfort. 1.-THE first glimpse
of those grand cliffs bidding us well
come made me humble enough; and If
ever there was a grateful girl, you dear
cousin Mildred, she is land / couldn't
tell you half how / felt. Oh, dear.
dear! It's all over now, anyhow-yes-
terday was in it, and to-day | am not
-so must be sensible or father will
wish he had kept me at homer
For two months she had led the most
delightful, the most idyllic life. So
ciety, that mysterious something that
DIR. Adams regarded with such scorn,
and that Dorothy herself had had a
little pharisaical feeling toward-so-
ciety had taken On outing, and with
her.
She had been part of it and she had
liked it. Yes, before all Queerville
she was willing to become its cham
pion.
Talk about society being frivolous
and hollow" she thought to herself,
rehearsing a trife, perhaps. as she re-
called how she, Dorothy. who had her
Greek and Latin at her finger tips, and
who thought she knew something, had
been obliged to remain silent MANY a
time when they were discussing in
tensely interesting subjects, simply be-
cause b knew nothing about them.
"Oh! It's a thousand times better to
be part of this living world and inter-
ested in the things that are troubling
men to-day than to be existing way
back in the dark ages and trying to
hammer Greek and Latin into heads