Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1894-03-23
MY WEDDING-RING
BY AMY RANDOLPH.

Sharp and clear came the sound OF
the postman's whistle, cutting the
frigid winter air like knife-blade. l
started up from the sofa, where had
been dreaming over the morning pa
per, with the CHEEKY crackle Of the an
thracite fire close beside me, and the
scent of my morning coffee streaming
gratefully up from the chased silver
equipage on the little round table. s
(The bachelors mode of life is not
altogether without its disadvantages.
after all.
''Mrs Metcalfe, called out, put
ting my head over the stair-rail (which
hadn't been busted that morning;
boarding house stair-rails never do
get busted until noon, if you have ever
observed it), sis there anything for
me?"
An ominous silence. knew as well
as if was on the spot that the land
lady's daughter was reading my pos
tai cards, holding my letters up
between her eye and the light, and
indulging in other proceedings pecu-
liar to the genus "landlady's daugh-
ter"
81 say" reiterated, throwing
little spice of evaporation into my ac-
cent, 'Is there anything for me?''
Coming sir Coming =. and Miss
Melinda Metcalfe shltfisd upstairs
with my correspondence on japanned
tray.
els there any news?" said 1, sarcas-
tically, as l took my letter, my two
postal cards and my newspaper.
''Sir?n said Miss Melinda.
81 didn't know but that you were
opening my mail, !" said |, blandly.
"0h, sir. shouldn't think Of sum
thingl" 81
And Miss Melinda went down stairs
tossing her head like an enraged Shet- 4
land pony
One card from my tailor, to notify
me of his change of business resi-
dence; one from Louis Durande, to 4
tell me that he could not keep Ger
tain sleighing engagement with me on
the boulevard, and letter from Percy
Wyneote, who had warmed his slip
pers at the same college fire with me,
thirty years ago.
''Dear Belton, so his epistle ran,
81 claim your congratulations | am
to be married next week to the sweet
est girl the sun ever shoAe on. Theres
surprise number one for you. And
l wish you'd go to Goldluck & Glitter
mans and get the wedding ring size
inclosed on bit of paper. There's
surprise number two. Seriously old
fellow, it will be doing me great
favor, for business matters here are
complicated in such way that l can
not hope to get down to New York
day before the event. And, of course, 4
know that | can trust your taste and I
judgment equally with my own. Have
the words ''Helen, 1894" engraved |
on the inside, and please send by ex
press without delay.
Ever yours faithfully,
"PERcY WYNcorE.
''P. S.-She Is an angel
''P. P. S.-She has eyes exactly |
like that famous print of the Beat
rice Cenci' by Guido, that you see in
ell the shop windows.
swell, said | to myself, laying
down my old chum's rapturous letter,
"here's a pretty commission for a
bachelor. An angel, is she? don't |
believe she's any more angelic than
Pauline Brookes. But every man
thinks his own goose a swan. l pity /
the poor fellow, I'm sure; he's clearly |
in state Of glamour that makes him
see everything coleur de rose But |
I'm not one to desert friend at a
buy his miserable wedding
ring with all the pleasure in life. "
So locked my desk, put on my
seal trimmed overcoat and went
to Goldluck & Glitter
mans.
Jones was behind the counter. l |
knew Jones. l had bought a gold !
bracelet of him to settle a phiIopena
present with Pauline Brookes, six
months ago. Jones was dapper lit
tie fellow, with stiffiy-waxed mus
tache, cameo scarf-pin and hair be-
dewed with some ambrosial perfume
or other.
"Wedding-rings, if you please,
said |, plunging in medias res, with
out loss of time. Heres the size,
my slip of paper.
"Any inscription, sir ?" questioned
Jones, assuming SO preternaturally
knowing an aspect that could cheer
fully have pitched him in among the
plated-ware in the big glass showcase
behind him.
Helen, said |, brusquely, 1884.
"H'Emma, sir % Jones put his
hand back of his ear