Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-01-20
A DOUBLE TREACHERY.
ADAPTED ny II. p.

tune. AT first he had imposed upon his
wife, but after repeated disappointments
she learned " estimate him at his real
value, and no longer attached any import
ance 10 his wild dreams. Her comfortable
little dowry, wasted by him in foolish
speculations. had dwindled to a mere pit
tance: an Indian shawl, sacred 10 great
occasions, the lace she had worn on her
wedding day, aud two diamond clasps,
small enough, certainly, but still 20 bril-
liant that Sylvia often implored her moth
er 10 open the white velvet case in which
they had lain for thirty years or more.
Mr.. Chipp had been for years seeking
some active employment, his health, as he
affirmed, not allowing him 10 lead
sedentary life. 1t must I've acknowledged
that in the early days of his life. when
his business was prosperous and money
was plentiful. when he kept his horse and
groom, he was thrown from his carriage
and severely injured.
This accident had served ever since for
an excuse for his idleness. No one was
ever five minutes with Mr.. Chipp without
his saying, in a confidential tone
"You remember the accident that hap
pened 10 the Duke Of Marlborough r. And
then he would add. invariably tapping his
own bald head, Precisely the same
thing"
Situation after si.nation had been
abandoned as not lucrative or dignifed
enough, so that at the time of which we
speak he was burden to himself and TO
others. Everyone can relate anecdotes Of
the eccentricties of artists and literary
men; but who can adequately describe
the preposterous follies of half educated.
unemployed tradesmanf III a new street
was being laid out, he felt called upon
daily 10 inspect the progress of the work
men. No one knew better than he the
specialties of the different shops, and
sometimes Mrs Cbipp. weary Of seeing
her husbands vacant face pressed against
the window-panes, would say, as she
ironed the house linen
"You know tho pastrycook's shop, in
such a street, where they sell such ex-
cellent bunsl Go and get couple and
we will have them instead Of a pudding
to-day"
So the husband sailed forth, slowly
trayersed the streets. went to the shop,
and passed half the day out Of doors. re-
turning in triumph, wipng his forehead.
as he entered the house with the bag Of
buns. for which he had spent a few pence
anu tie WiipF morning.
His wife made no complaint, though she
honestly wished that he would earn
some money. The poor woman made no
more than he, but she so thoroughly
understood the art of saving it, that abso-
lutte poverty had never yet entered their
doors. Their rooms were always scrupu-
lously clean. and the old furniture shone
brightly under her care.
stz a
smaller ones. On the first. card. fasten-
ed by four small nails, bore the name Of
"Florence, Designer Of Wallpaper Pat
terms for Manufacturers" and ON the
other was a small brass plate with this
inscription. "Mrs. We're de Lacy Beetles
and Humming- birds" The De Lacys'
door was always open. and showed a
large square room. where two women.
mother and daughter, the latter almost
child, labored at one Of those small indus
tries demanded by the luxurious fancies
of ladies Of wealth and taste.
At that time il was fashion to ornament
hats and ball-dresses with those brilliant
beetles from South America. and with
those dainty birds whose breasts glitter
as il set closely with rubies and emeralds.
This was Mrs. DE Lacy's speciality.
A wholesale house to whom the goods
were consigned from the Antilles sent
them at once on their arrival to Mrs. De
Lacy. When the cover was removed. a
dull dead odor and fine arsenical dust
filed the room. The beetles were piled
one upon another; the birds were closely
packed, each with its wings stretched on
q bit Of stiff paper. All these were to be
mounted each beetle must tremble on a
fragment Of wire; the rufiied plumage of
sa t%o PaaT had beads a inseried n d fsseeaS 81 tS tSe
eyes that were no longer there; and each
tiny creature must he made To assume a
life-like position.
The mother did her work under her
daughters direction for Dora, though so
young. had such exquisite taste, such
originality Of invention that no one could
arrange the birds as she could.
Lame from her infancy in consequence
of an accident that had in no way lessened
the beauty of her refined face, Dora had
acquired, in consequence of her enforced
seclusion. certain high bred pallor, and
her employment was of such \ nature
that the natural beauty of Der white
hands was uniniured. Her silky hair was
always carefully arranged, and she passed
her days buried in a large armchair.
before table that was covered with
fashion plates and birds of all tints, hnd-
ing some compensation in the elegance OF
her occupation for the poverty and anx-
iety Of her life.
She knew that all these little wings
would glitter at West-end tetes. and, by
the fashion in which she would arrange
her birds and beetles, ii was easy to divine
her thoughts.
On her sad and weary days the wings
were widely spread. as If eager for a
fight fast and furious enough TO bear the
little creature far away from this poor
abode, and petty cares and trials. But
when she was happy, the tiny things
themselves looked radiant.
Happy or unhappy, Dora toiled on with
uniagging energy; from sunrise until
far into the night her table wac piled Win
work. When daylight was gone. and the
he'll of the factory sounded its dismissal,
Mrs. de Lacy lighted her lamp, and. after
q light repast, the two resumed their
Iabors.
These indefatigable women had but one
aim. one fixed idea in life; and this was
the dramatic success of Mr.. We're de Lacy.
From the unfortunate day that he had
left a prov incial theatre TO play tragedy
in London. We're de Lacy had expected
some manager, more discerning and less
ignorant than the others, to discover his
genius and offer him position worthy OF
his talents.
Perhaps in the beginning, De Lacy might
have found an engagement in trans
pontine or East-cnd theatre, but to such
an idea he would not condcscend To listen.
He preferred. he said. ITO wait. and TO
strugglew And this was how he struggled.
He passed his mornings in his bedroom.
often in his bed. rehearsing his former
roles, ard his wife and daughter shudder-
ed with terror as they heard some tragic
speech loudly declaimcd. After late
| breakfast the actor sailed forth, well
brushed and combed. and wandered up
and down the Strand and the neighbor-
hood of Covent- garden until night. his isns, s
little to one side, a fow:r, ,;ns -
and toothpick bot. y. t - a,aria1 os
The -..a.,tr at costume ne regarucm "s
of the very highest importance. What
manager, he asked, would engage HIM
we're he shabbily dressed and unshavenf
So his womenkind watched carefully
that he lacked nothing, and you may
imagine how many beetles and humming-
birds they mounted daily to turn him out
| in this resplendent condition.
But the tragedian accepted the situa--
ton. In his opinion the rrivations and
toll of his wife ard daughter were so
many sacrifices, not made specially Tor
him. hut laid on the altar OF the unknown
| d;vinitv--the coming manager.