The Press., 1894-11-22

CHAPTER II.
 The ducks came waddling from the brook; the hens and chickens ran at sight of Elsie There was twinkling of legs, a fiutter of feathers, whirring and clapping of wings, for Paul's pi- geons had joined the little cloud of fowls that surrounded Elsie as she stood ill the farmyard the day after Uncle Sis suneral. She looked younger and more girlish than ever in her black gown. Uncle Si had been laid away to rest | in the grassy corner of the Bolton grave yard, and few friends and neighbors had gathered out of respect to the quiet, undemonstrative man who had !'yed among them void of offense for over 70 years. And now it was all over. The curtains were drawn, the clock again set ill motion, doors clapped; the old dog parked; the hens came scratching under the front win low; the wheels of l life that had paused for time while the kind old man, the master, lay stark on his bed ill the kitchen chamber were moving again to their accustomed tune.
 The young man we have seen inscrib- ing his name. Arthur Hapgood, on the hotel register was riding along the coun try road on a bay horse. Elsie saw him from where she stood feeding the fowls in the farmyard and knew at once who he was. She remarked how well his clothes fitted and what a firm seat he had in the saddle even before she rasl forward to greet him as he was fasten- | g.. I.:. 1. gling row of hollyhocks. Elsie was bareheaded, and the breeze had ruffled the little errant locks about her fore head. She looked so slim and girlish the young man gave her rather an open stare of admiration.
 "You arc Mir. Arthur Hapgood," she said as he got down from his horse. "We have been looking for you. was so sorry you could not be here yester' day."
 "Yes, I know" he returned unblush ingly. "Poor Uncle Si! It was i1npossi ble, you see; train was late, and I die not arrive in time. Of course it made no difference to him, " and he bent his eyes upon her with familiar, patroniz- ing smile. And you are Elsie Ray, my little correspondents"
 ''Yes, I am Elsie Ray
 Cousins, think, ' he said, switch ing off the dust from lis trousers witl his riding whip.
 "Oh, mo-" she returned, mot at all related. am only the child of Uncle Sis first wife's niece. But he was very good to me" she added quickly. ''He never let me know the difference. I ''Who wouldn't be good to you?" saii Hapgood in Q marked way that made Elsie color. She took the bridle of the bay horse and put it lightly over he1 arm. ''If you will step into tio house. MT. Hapgood, will put your horso il the barn. Paul Raynor is in the tlcld and Aunt Prissy and Aunt Hotty are waiting to welcome you. "
 ''So it appears 1 have relatives here, after all?''
 ''No real kin, I am afraid" said FL sic. ''They are the sisters of Uncle Sis last wife He gave them home and took care of them for 8 great many years. He always let them think il was a great privilege to have them here.'
 "Old?" asked Hapgood, making ar interrogation point of his eyebrows. 'tYes, very old and infirm-I an i afraid rather childish. Aunt Prissy has cataracts coming over both her eyes Aunt Hetty is very hard of hearing, but they are very sensitive about these things and like to have it supposed they car see and hear as we'll as ever. They never forget that they were belles once, the Misses Bingham of Littlefeld, an6 danced at one of General Lafayette's balls "
 Indeed" returned Arthur, "I am afraid l don't share my uncle's taste fol old women. What very extraordinary establishment he must have kept!" Elsie made no response. If he meant it for joke, she thought it was in very bad taste
 And who is Paul Raynor?" he asked abruptly.
 ''Oh, he is not a relation either," " re turned Elsie, coloring wildly in spite of herself. ''He is the son of one o1 Uncle Sis old friends who died poor. And uncle took Paul and partly adopted him.''
 ''Made him stable boy," said Ar thur quickly, land as he is away you propose to put up my horse. "
 ''He is not a stable boy," returned Elsie, with pretty air of dignity that amused Hapgood. "Uncle Si was very fond of him and could not have treated him better had he been his own son Paul is naturalist. ''
 ''Indeed?" returned Hapgood, staring more than ever. Excuse my mistake. 1 hardly expected to find such remark. able people under my uncle's roof" Elsie colored rather violently, fol something in the young mans tone made her angry, though she hardly knew what to say ill reply. She there. fore turned and was leading the horse away to the stable
 eff you will insist on being groom, ] will go with you, said Hapgood, keep ing close to her side. ''I would like tc explore the old farm with you, and ther
 Henry Wilson, the postmaster at Welsh ton, Florida, says he cured a case of di of 4op ip ivh h,,,, 1x,;t