The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-05-20

| position TO SD stain social relations with their
/ former friends and acquaintances.
! They therefore take this means OF most
| earnestly thanking one and all Of their friends
1 for many and deeply appreciated attentions,
: and to beg that all their pending social en-
! gagements be at once cancelled
| Their present situation and their imme-
/ dtate return to America will render reply 70
| this note unnecessary
ut certainly has the merit of origi-
| nality,n groaned George Pelham. Il sup
| pose you wish this given one insertion in
! the Society Journal?'
mo. | want you to push back the
| breakfast things, there, and sit right
| down and help me write this to every one
! of our good friends. Here's a list, ad-
I dresses and all. Come now, make haste ;
/ and then Wen auction.off everything we
/ have here or sell it TO the secondhand
men and take the first steamer for New
! York-second cabin, steerage, or as
/ stewardess and steward. My but this
( being real poor does make one energetic,
| though 2"
! For an hour or more nothing could be
! heard in the pleasant breakfast room on
| Cheyne Row but the lively scratching of
! their pens. George had finished his list
! first; had sealed and addressed his
/ letters; and was sitting beside them dis
/ COnsolatelY, tossing them about, reading
and rereading their addresses gloomily.
I He finally noticed that his sister was
silent; had paused in her work and was
nibbling al her pen holder while her fine
face, resting in her disengaged hand, was
turned 10 the light and brightness of old
Cheyne Row.
Whats the matter, Merce2" he asked
Got hard onel"
Eyes. yes, George" she replied softly.
This is a little hard
He noticed, too, that the tears were
| trickling from her cheek into the lace en-
: folding her round, fair arm; and he came
! lovingly to her side and stroked her head
I gently as he looked over her shoulder at
the address.
1t almost breaks my heart to write
this one, George. They were so lovely to
usr
Almost loving" Pelham added re-
hectively
That's the worst of it, I'll confess I
| never came so near falling in love in all
mylife, George"
Exactly my predicament, Mercy"
And then to think of all those sweet
days we passed up there about Amble-
side, Grassmere and Kerswick with them
/ They were orphans, too. That seemed to
| draw us all the more closely together
And what glorious time we had when
they passed through London on their way
back TO Kent, here in this very place.
Why, Harry and l and you and Beatrice
were like four happy children together
Yes, and sure as you're born, Merce,
Harry Dunstan asked me, Just before
leaving if there would be any oDiec-
tons"
To what. George2"
well, to paying you serious atten-
tions"
What did you tell him."
That, as far as l knew. the claim
wasn't pre-empted, and that there could
but one objection possibly arise"
My. What was that GEORGE
That he might object meantime to my
paying court to his sister"
And did he object to that" asked
! Mercy, with some little trace of anxiety.
oh, no not at all. He said there was
another fellow who might, though"
You don't tell me!''
Yes, the vicar of the parish. Splendid
fellow, too But of color, Merce: yell
low; shallow; cadaverous Too brainy,
solemn, awful. Sort of stewed in the
saffron of books and medievalism I'm
healthy like. Prowls about the old
church monuments and brasses too much.
Now a likely young woman don't Just
want to marry a spook if he does wear a
surplice, Merce. Harry said if we'd Just
stop of in Kent, on our way TO the CONT
nent. and I'd be sure to have you along
we could all circumvent the vicar in no
time"
The bravery seemed to have all gone
out of the little woman for a moment.
George, l never knew until now how
dreadfully riches and poverty change the
relations of humankind"
! Then she bent over her note to Miss
/ Beatrice Dunstan Dunstan Hall, near
Maidstone, Kent and added this little
postscript laboriously and through sobs:
To none in all the world, as to yourself
and your good brother, are these words
so written in heartbreakings and the dim
ming of bitter tears"
rs that all right, George2" She held
the letter back and upward above her
averted head for him to see.
That's dead right Merce. Heart
break goes, Bitter tears go. Confound
it, everything goes! and now ] go, too. 5"
Where Georgel"t
"Op clos man! No more Dunstan Hall
in mine,n
oh, yes of course. That's right. Post
these letters and bring him along as
quickly as possible I'll rub things up a
bit meantime Poor George! I'm sorrier
for YOU than for myself"
They embraced more lovingly than ever
before, and separated. Mercy waited in
the window to throw her brother an en-
couraging kiss. following him with pity
ing eyes until he turned cityward past
Carlyle monument down the Thames EN-.
| bankment.
| Before night everything the brother
and sister possessed, aside from their
wearing apparel, and much of the best
of that had gone, with few keepsakes,
had been disposed of; and their debts
were paid to thelast penny. But they
were now Mortified to find that their total
available funds did not exceed by two
sovereigns their combined cash assets
when they had taken account of stock in
the morning. This would not get them
to the nearest seaport town and return
| them TO New York on the most pitiable
emigrant fare.
They were sitting by their window
| overlooking Cheyne Row when this as
founding discovery was made. At that
moment Pelham caught sight of two
familiar figures opposite. They were
costermongers, a pearl buttoned Jackey
and his "donah," man and wife. who had
become indissoluble friends of the Pei
| hams, first through liberal purchase of
vegeta bles again through accompanying
them on various expeditions among the
lowly of London; and, lastly, through
previous years outing,with Chaffinch Ike,
as the man was called, and his wife,
Hetty, through the shires of Essex and
Suffolk, TO the Great Yarmouth by the
sea, by donkey and by van, subsequently,
generously loaned to Chaffinch Ike, which
donkey and van, the latter transformable
at convenience into huge coster's cart,
h k..4 l. IL aa