Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1894-04-06


And then bow her out-and go back
to my work. But all day long am Wis
tied by thoughts Of the pretty college
girl, and fall to wondering if Brother
ION paid his wager like a man of honor.
The next day ''VeTe St. Adams" re-
ceives cards of invitation to several af-
fairs. The envelopes are all addressed
to Mr.. We're st. Adams, and gradually it
dawns upon me that l am universally
believed to be Of the masculine gender.
1t is amusing and provoking, but the
situation has its compensations. | de-
cline every invitation in We're St. Adams
name and feel almost like an impostor
as I do so.
Day after day l am besieged by callers
who demand to look upon the face of the
mysterious St. Adams. OF course re-
fuse everybody. l double Abby's wages
and station her in the small entrance
hall, with orders to admit no one. re-
'ceive letters from my publishers re-
preaching me with my seclusion.
''Don't be hermit, my dear fellow"
says one Of the letters from the august
head of the house; ''a little society will
freshen you up, and besides you have
really made a hit i'll that last article, and
people are DESTROYS of meeting you. My
son, whom we have just admitted to the
firm, is very anxious to meet YOU
And SO On until I feel the blood grow
cold within my veins at thought of pos
sible complications.
Can l always preserve my incognita?
Will they not besiege my den and ferret
the truth and me-out Of it together? It
comes at last One bright winter morn
ing Abby ushers into my presence a port
" looking old gentleman, and with him
man Of some so years, tall, dark, hand
some-just such a face as love to por-
tray as the faces of my heroes.
81 beg your pardon!'
Nr. Anterior falls back, overcome
with surprise.
'.The servant showed us in here. We
are DESTROYS of meeting Mr.. We're st.
Adams. We are CT the publishing firm
of Anterior G. Sons. [ wish to see Mr.
st. Adams in regard to some especial
work. viii you kindly request him to
give us audience?
feel my face growing red-redder-
reddest. rise from my chair and mo-
ton them to be seated near. Iopen my
mouth to blurt forth the whole truth,
but some perverse imp seizes my tongue,
and instead falter:
"You cannot see We're st. Adams to-
day, gentlemen. HE'S indisposed."
So he is, indeed, indisposed to receive
visitors.
'You are Mrs. We're st. Adams, pre-
sumo" he observes. And Lob, depths
of infamy! I am SO embarrassed, SO
der the cool, steady gaze of the younger
man that 1 bow and mutter something
which sounds strangely like eyes
At that moment there is curious bus
tie within the fat where my little home
is situated. An uproar all at once, and
in rushes abby, wild and disheveled,
and clings to my arm like mad crea-
ture.
ooh, Miss We're! Miss Vere?' she
shrielzs, ''the house is on fire! Come, let
us get away, OF we shall be burned
aliveH'
It is all true. The fire has been burn
ing SO long unsupported that now it
breaks out with irresistible force, and
soon the whole building is in flames,
But long before then we are quite safe
My two visitors bear my desk down
stairs between them, and while the elder
man keeps watch and ward over it out
side upon the street the younger returns
to me.
'We must get your husband out" he
says eagerly. "Show me his room, and
will do my best to save hiln.'
'Myhusband!' falter feeb1y. ''Why,
I have no husband!"
ssThen who is We're St. Albans:"
81 amv
So the truth is told, and somehow
feel better.
When we are all safe on terra irma,
my new friend turns to me and says in
low tone:
'sMy name is Tom Atherton. My
young sister called to obtain We're St.
Adams autograph. She is more than
half in love with the unknown and mys-
ferrous We're. 1 shall take pleasure in
undeceiving her,"
Then after a long pause, during which
he studies my shamed face attentively,
he adds:
'.And I am quite in love with We're st.
Adams. have known that writer for
months through her manuscripts. Tell
me, is there any hope for mel?
What can I say but murmur some
thing about short acquaintance and all
the rest of the conventional excuses that |
flock through my brain. But time does
away with the first excuse, since he pro-
ceeds henceforth to devote himself to
cultiyating my acquaintance, and the
others he puts aside as he would shad-
ow.
So one day Tom takes me to his home,
and Lam duly presented as his betrothed
wife in propria persona. New York
Weekly.