Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-01-27
was thus slittle Chipp- took her first step

For some time the new apprentice,
younger and better educated than the
others, found herself in solitude among
them. Later, as she grew older. she was
admitted to their friendship and their con-
ldence. but never shared their pleasures.
She was too proud to run through the
streets TO stare at wedding, and when
she heard Of their methods Of amusement,
she shrugged her shoulders with disdain.
Sylvia had higher aspirations.
Sometimes, towards the end Of the year,
she WAS obliged TO send her father home
again without her, and remain with the
others 10 finish some pressing work.
Under the Pickering light of the gas,
the pale faces bent over the pearls, white
as themselves. IL was the same fragile
brilliancy. They chatted Of the theatres,
and the minstrels. concerts. and music
halls, and the pearls ratified as they
! talked.
In summer the work was less hurried,
and in the middle Of the day the appren-
ticos rested. and one of the girls would
read some work of fiction aloud 10 the
others.
But Sylvia cared little for romances
she carried one in her own small head. in
| fnitely more interesting 10 her than any
she could read.
Nothing had obliterated her interest in
| the factory. Every morning she passed
it with her father Mt the same hour, when
| the chimney belched forth thick volumes
Of black smoke.
She heard the busy hum of the work
people. and the rhytbmical strokes of the
machinery. and all these things were as
sociated in the memory with recollections
of pleasures and ease.
J hn oh 10 ,,t tNcly NJ.
\ Chip. She must have some Amusement.
Next Sunday we will go TO Maidenhcad"
These excursions, arranged by kind
hearted Florence for Sylvia.l especial
pleasure, only depressed her In the first
place she was obliged To get up at FIVE
o'clock. for the poor buy all theirpleasures
very dearly. There is always something
! to Ire bonei nj the last moment; a hat 70
/ retrim: to rejuvenste the everlasting little
| blue muslin with white stripes that Mrs.
| Chipp conscientiously heightened every
! year.
They started all together: the Chips.
/ the two Florences, and the illustrious De
Lacy. Dora and her mother did not go.
The delicate girl, mortified by her in
| trinity, preferred to remain in her arm
chair, and her mother stayed with her
child. Besides, she had no dress fit to APP
pear by the side Of that great man. her
husband. She would have destroyed all
the effects.
At first Sylvia was bright and lively.
London in the early mist Of July morn
ing, the stations filed with welldressed
crowds, the country seen from the car
riage windows, the exercise and the fresh
air, the perfume Of flowers. the green turf,
all raised the young girls spirits for a
few moments, but her heart soon grew
weary Of these simple enjoyments.
lit is always the same thing over and
over again." she said 10 herself.
In fact. Sylvia found but one pleasure
in these Sunday trips. and that consisted
in feeling herself admired even by the
stupid rustics whom she met on the coun-
try roads.
Sometimes Florence. with his brother
and .little Chip" deserted the rest Of
their party. and wandered into the woods |
and meadows to gather flowers and trail |
ing branches. These were 10 serve "a
models for his wallpapers.
Frank. with his long arms, pulled down |
a spray of hawthorn, or climbing on TO !
stone wall TO gather some wandering |
woodbine that p,eased them by its care !
less grace. But it was by the side of the |
river that they found their richest harvest. !
plants, whose long. slender stems threw !,
out luxuriant masses of leaves, and reeds
of a rich brown. or wild convolvulus, |
with its branches Of white blue flowers.
Florence grouped his leaves. his buds. |
and flowers. as If Nature alone had done |
il. tying his bouquet with a wide blade Of /
grass. and hung it over Franks shoulder,
and ON they went, Florence talking all the /
time of an lipcts aud rom hin ationS
Look" said he, "at that cluster Of
lilies Of the valley peeping through that !
branch of wild roses. Don't you think it |
treated. ON a ground Of greenish gray
Sylvia cared little for lilies and roses.
Wild flowers were but weeds in her eyes.
She remembered those in the conser-
vatory at Mr.. Gray's. Annie's grandfather, |
and thought Of the rare plants growing |
in the majolica vases on the balcony.
Those were the only flowers she loved. 30
you may fancy that she cared little for
the country.
If they passed park lodge. she east
lingering glances up the avenue. and at
the green lawns shaded by tall trees.
These glimpses Of an unattainable luxury
made these expeditions almost irritating
TO her, and the returning home was the
crowning point Of her misery.
The small stations approaching London
are on such evenings greatly crowded
and uncomfortable But old Chip was
in his element. He hustled about. com
planned Of train that vas delayed for
two or three minutes. and threatened
loudly TO write to the newspapers.
.Imagine," he would say. in buster
ing tone, .such thing happening in the
nineteenth century"
And the noble actor answered, with q
shrug of his shoulders
.Monstrous"
The single word. thanks 10 the wonder
full talent Of the tragedian. conveyed to
the gaping spectators the idea that the
two men had just arrived from a Caygilrs
tour round the world.
Seated by Franks side, his enormous
| bouquet half in her lap, Sylvia remained
| for a long time absolutely silent. contem-
] plating the black masses of trees against
| the sky. a long country road. and the
1 crowd that came and went through the
| wai,ing-room; train flashed by without
stopping; then came the ono that their
/ larty was to take, aAd they hastened to
| find seats.
How dusty and uncomfortable it was!
| The tumbled, soiled dresses OF the women,
| the men red and warm. A thick, white
dust obscured the one lamp and hung like
q mist over everything.
Sylvia pushed up the window at her
side. and fixed her eyes on the long hedges
as they glided past.
Soon like the countless stars. they saw
before them the street-lamps of London.
This melancholy day OF pleasure was at
last over, and each member Of the now
silent party began to think Of to-morrow's
toll.
Sylvia rebelled against this contempla-
ton, and envied the rich to whom each
day brought new distractions. and vague
~, as in dream, peopled the cool sv-
enues she had seen with crowd OF we'll
dressed people. who were amusing them
selves by watching the Cockneys, who. in
the face of heat and dust. and so much
discomfort, had persisted in seeking .
holiday.
Froh her thirteenth to her seventeenth
birthday such was Sylvia's monotonous
life. Mrs. Chips Indian shawl was q
triiie more worn. and the blue muslin was
irretrievably shabby. These. and an ad-
ditional inch or so 10 Sylvia's height. were
| al tha chanrps