The Washington times., 1894-07-15
Miss MaStHrS.
Written for THE TIMEs.1
By BEATRICE WHITLEY.
Author of "The Awakening of Mary Fenwick."

CHAPTER I.
The western wind was wild and dark with foam,
And all alone went she.
We are at the sea. Change Of air and
scene is absolutely necessary for the health OF
the orthodox Briton once year. Our father
suggested that we should spend the whole
Summer at home in our lonely house in Nor
folk. where there is nothing on earth to do
but your duty OF course he talked OF pov-
ertv. bad harvests, reduction of rents for the
Grumbling farmers, and all those other p hill
anthropic stinginesses of which we women
hear when we want extra pin-money or extra
amusement.
But we are determined family Our opin-
ions are as firmly established as the govern
ment; We do not give way. My father has
four daughters who lead him in the path
which he should tread, the result being that
we are at the present time spending August
at the seaside.
There are four OF us-four Miss Masters.
My eldest sister. Millicent is considered
handsome: her face is certainly sweeter than
her disposition, her blue eyes far franker than
her tongue. She possesses what the poets
call (without poetic license in her case) a
wealth of golden hair; the curls and coils. the
twists and loops are most expensive, for the
color is rare. l rank next in age to Millicent.
l am ~: no one admires me SO far as l
know. Though my nose is sharp, my chin
gressiye. my range OF vision augmented by the
use Of eyeglasses, and nv temper uncertain,
yet / have pretty wit which love to exer-
else on my neighbors.
Ny parents, rs would be OWNED bv an in
telligent reader, have some originality of
mind. though their ideas run much-over-
much in one groove.
Having called their eldest born Milliceut.
they named me. their second daughter, Mil
dred. their third Muriel. and, unable to shake
off the fascination of the N, they grated
French name upon our English stock, and
called the baby Meanie.
We are an agreeaby sounding quartette,
full OF euphony and ALTERATION. The Misses
Millicent. Mildred, Muriel. and Melanie Mas
tiers roll sonorously of the tongue Our
names are n melody of maidenhood. But, as
Whose-his-name says, things are not what
they seem, and we have very little that is har-
monious and melodious In our dispositions
We quarrel, we jar. spar. and dispute among
ourselves. However, we unanimously allow
that woman who has no temper has no
character. and what woman nowadays could
endure TO be characterless? Perhaps the sur
name has some subtle influence upon us.
We are. each one of US. Masters at present.
Millicent is to change her name in the
Autumn. The wedding is fixed Tor October,
but as her quarrels with her betrothed. Mau-
rice Mitchell, are incessant and sometimes
exceedingly violent, the engagement is an
unusually precarious one. II Maurice had
had the spirit of a Masters he would have
thrown her over weeks and weeks ago. told
him so, but he said he was not a man who
would
"sen poor bliss
For proud despair"
II he thinks all that sort Of thing about MILL
cent he must be mad and 1t is no use arguing
with lunatic.
am not engaged-no one has chosen me
but have a partially. mere. mild partial
ity for Mr.. Close, our agent. The girls don't
care for him; he is in appearance like my
Scotch TERROR. with reddish face smothered
In rough, sandy hair and ruddy beard. but
not nearly SO lively companion, for he does