The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1894-07-27
Highest Of all in Leavening Fowe-Late S Govt Report
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ABSOLUTELY PURE
ABSOLUTELY Pure

entirely proper and right-mlnded, for
all we know. Nobody could be prop
erer than old Lady Edmonds, now.
Miss Celia doubtfully Her morals
are all right, poor, dear, old lady, but
her memory! [Sishs. She invariably
calls me Carlowitz instead of Carruth-
ers, comes week before she's asked,
and at half-past two, when I'm not
dressed.
Macintosh. There's Mrs. Edmun-
son, then; she comes punctual to the
day and hour.
Miss Celia. Yes, and brings three
giraffes of daughters with her who are
all boots and monosyllables.
Macintosh continuing to write.
Mrs. Ellison next. She's an old friend
of your mamma S, and holds particular
by your asking her.
Miss Celia depressed. l suppose
she does, for she stops two hours, and
every time she comes tells me how
tastefully the drawing-room was in old
days b. fore | did it up in pink-and-
white.
Macintosh cheerfully. Anyhow,
there are the Miss Frasers. Miss Isa-
bel has power of visiting conversa-
tiOn--
Miss Celia to herself. And talks
Arthur's heac off whenever she meets
him in the most shameless way. 1t
was she who got him away that night
at Great Marlow, l know for certain.
[ Aloud. Macintosh, do you suppose
Mr.. Scarbrow is in London?
Macintosh. We haven't got to the
SIS yet, and we've not getting through
the cards.
Miss Celia. I'm sick of them-sick
of them-sick of them.
Jumps up, goes to the window, and
again looks up and down the street.
Macintosh steadily writing. Fog
gerty; he's the little gentleman as
used to send the verses and Japanese
lilies 81 regular from Cookham.
Miss Celia despairingIy. Lots of
people send lilies from Cookham-I
mean flowers and that sort of thing
thinks sentimentally of the Boulogne
packet, and they forget your existence
the next minute. With rising wrath
If Arthur had chosen to cal, which
would have been mere piece of COM
mon civillty, should have been saved
all this business, these cards and tire
some people.
macintosh continuing to write.
I've sent to Mrs. Markham Frost, Miss,
and, of course to your aunt Fryer.
Miss Celia turning to macintosh
desperately. Mrs Markham Frost and
Aunt Fryer. Mrs. Frost, who makes it
a point Of asking me if Pm not engag-
to Mr.. Scarbrow, because she once saw
me dance three waltzes witch him, and
he forgot to take her brown paper
niece down to supper, and Aunt Fryer
breathless with anger,] who calls once
"a fortnight to wonder why I'm not
married, and to remind me that she
the mother of three before she was my
age! Gro hersef.) Two whole days
back in London, and he hasn't called
Why couldn t he h,v, called? { Aloud.)
Should you think Mr. Arthur Scar
brow Raising her volce.) Will you
leave off scribling those abominable
things, macintosh, and tell me If you
think Mr.-Oh. Springs back from
The window as "a hanson dashes up to
the doo". TO herself.) He's come.
And without card at al.
macintosh Why, Miss Celia if that
isn't the young gentleman getting out
at this very door that we've been talk
ing about all the morning.
Miss Celia. What do you mean:
(Blushing furiously.) l don't believe
I've mentioned Mr.. Scarbrow's name
once. (Agi atedly.) Bat be quick.
He's to be shown in here, and put away
those odious cards. Bundle them away,
tear them up, thrown them out of the
window Il mean, throw rh'm in the
fir.
Mackin'osh (amazed.) Throy them
out of the wiudow-throw them on the
fire? Burn 'em, after all our trouble?
Miss Celia (1urried.) I'll don't
want them. Eve changed my mind.
It's possible / may not s'nd them.
(Seizes the cards, and throws them on
the fire, which bl,z' IS up as the door
opens and Mr. Arthur Scarbrow is an
nounced.
macintosh (to herself.) We've got
to the SIS now, and no mistake, though
there is to be 'No Cards.
Chances at the young couple signifi-
cantly as sh gently closes the door. l.
London Sketch.
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