The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1894-03-16
81 will ask him." return. feeling like

ing up WOnuerIuliy. uoW bOOu OF your
You see, there's wager on it. Brother
Tom has bet me dozen pairs of kid
gloves-six buttons and assorted shades
that I'll not be able to get ST. Albansf
autograph. He says there is a mystery
about him, think you are very kind
to promise to help mel" she adds gush-
ingly.
do my best to repress smile, and sc
taking the book from her hand l retire
to the privacy Of my sanctum, where
proceed to inscribe my name in my lar
gest, manifest chirography. Idry it care
fully and return to the reception room.
"Oh, how very kind in your my Wis.
itor gushes again. II shall prize it as
long as livel Are you his sister,
shake my head.
sob, not his-wife?"
fancy CONSERVATION In the sweet,
shrill, girlish voice. Evidently the fact
of 'better half" would forever obscure
the fame of the popular writer.
Again shake my head.
"Vere st. Adams is not married."
return, and the violet eyes dance with
delight. She is pleased and does no5 at
tempt to conceal it.
81 ain~his nearest FRIEND" added ex
planatorily, nearer to him than any one
else."
And then bow her out and go lack
to my work. But all day long l am WIS.,
tied by thoughts Of the pretty college
girl, and fall to wondering if Brother
Tom paid his wager like man of honor.
The next day "Vere 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 I 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 / do 80.
Day after day am besieged by callers
who demand to look upon the face Of the
mysterious ST. Adams. OF course I re-
fuse everybody. Idouble 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 hit in that last article, and
people are DESTROYS of meeting you. My
son, whom we have just admitted to the
firm, is veryanxious to meet YOU"
And SO on until feel the blood grow
cold within my veins at thought of pos
sible complications.
Can always preserve my incognitai
Will they not besiege my den and ferret
the truth and me-out of it together? II
comes at last. One bright winter morn
ing Abby ushers into my presence port
ly looking old gentleman, and with him
a man of some SO years, tall, dark, hand
some-just such face as I love to por-
tray as tho faces of my heroes.
Il beg your pardon!"
Mr.. Athcrton falls back, overcome
with surprise.
1.-THE servant showed us in here. We
are DESTROYS of meeting Mr.. We're st.
Adams. We are Of the publishing firm
of Anterior G Soas. wish to see Mr..
St. Adams III regard to some especial
work. Will you kindly request him to
give us audiencep
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 lie is, indeed, indisposed to receive
visitors.
"You ere Mrs. We're st. Adams, pre-
sume," he observes. And Lob, depths
of infamy! / am co embarrassed, sc
overwhelmed with embarrassment I'm.
der the cool, steady gaze of the younger
man that bow and nutter something
which sounds strangely like Eyes"
At thatlnoment therei3 curious bus
tie witnin the fiat where my little home
is situated. An uproar all at once, and
In rushcs Abby, wild and disheyeled,
and clings to my arm like mad crea.
ture.
ooh, Miss We're! Miss Verey' she
shrieks, 1.-THE house is on firel Come, lei
us get away, or we shall be burned
alivev'
1t is all true. The fire has been burn.
ing so long unsuspected that now il
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, y he
says eagerly. "Show me his room, and
will do my best to save him!"
my husbandr' l falter feebly. why
have no husbandr'
''Then who is We're st. Albans?"
II ann
So the truth is told, and somehow
feel better.
When we are all safe on terra frma
my new friend turns to me and says in
q low tone:
my 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-
terious We're. shall take pleasure in
undeceiving her."
Then after q long pause, during which
he studies my shamed face attentively
he adds:
"And am quite in love with We're ST.
Adams. l have known that writer for
months through her manuscripts. Tell
the, is there any hope for me?'
What can say but inurmur some
thing about short acquaintance and ali
the rest of the conventional excuses that
flock through my brain. But time does
away with the first excuse, since he pro-
ceeds henccforth to devote himself to
cultivating my acquaintance, and the
others he puts aside as he would shad-