Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1894-12-20

butterfly that pleased the eve and
ornamented the landscape, but one
that caused the passer-by to shake his
head and nsk what the end would be.
Could she so on in that way forever?
Would life always yield her honey,
unmixed with gall? Would she ever
become serious, less selfish, less flip
pant? Would she ever marry and set
tie down? Or, if she did not, would
she grow old, as other women did, or
forever remain distractingly young
and irresponsible as she was now?
Ma'moiselle was no longer young
girl, people said, At twenty-eight it
was time that woman should long
since have been at the head of house,
the mother of growing brood. But
Ma 'moiselle shook her head and said
that she really wouldn't care for it :;
that she was just beginning to find out
how to enjoy herself; that she loved
her freedom, her liberty, her good
health, her ability to relish the flavor
OF all things, too much to exchange
them for an uncertainty.
The unkind ones said that the real
reason was that she loved all men too
much to marry one; that she was a
disgraceful little firt, and that they
pltied the man who really did win her.
And they could not forgive her the
fact that, in spite of her frivolity and
general undesirableness in Their ewes.
there were number of men who were
undoubtedly willing, and even anxious,
to accept the position of husband to
Ma moiselle, and be led by her the
dance that they predicted.
1t was Josiah Dalrymple who
christened her "Ma' a'moiselle. She
bad some French blood in her; and
being rather proud of the fact, she
did her best to accentuate it. 1t was
hardly an affectation, for her tastes
were innateiy French. She had de-
veloped the habit, when child, OF
giving an expressive and decidedly
foreign little shrug to her shoulders.
She could speak the language, too, il
being the one study to which she had
paid any serious attention, and she
loved to chatter it. Dalrymple said
that she reminded him of picture he
had once seen i'll the Paris Salon; u
figure in fancy dress, that might have
served as n model for "Folly," but
was simply catalogued 'Portrait of q
Young Lady" and ever afterwards he
had called Elise Coudert "Ma'moi.
selle."
Dalrymple was about as little like a
butterfly as she was like a grub. Ii
had fallen to his lot to be one OF the
toilers of the world, and though stllI
n young man he had won place and
name for himself by his own untirinq
efforts. He was serious by nature anc
upright through principle. He be
lieved thoroughly in the gospel o
hard work, and knew that success
worth having would not come easily
His life was earnest, his purpose un
hlnching, his amusements few
Ma'moiselle was among the latter.
When he had had II particularly try
ing day, downtown, it rested him tt
drop in, on his way to his rooms, n
Mrs. Coudert's attractive home III,
drawing room was always light ant
airy--anything heavy and severe be
ing excluded by Ma'moiselle, whom
Mrs. Coudert never opposed; and h,
could generally have a little chat Will
Ma moiselle herself # was sure no
to be drain on his intellect, whilt
his eye was gratiied by the tasteru
surroundings, and his ear amused b,
the conversational twitter, although
of Ma'moiselle herself his reason die
not always approve. Itrefreshcd hin
even to scold her, presuming as h
often did upon his old Acquaintance
and the friendship he had had viii
her brother, now married and livin.
far away.
He went up the steps to her hous
one afternoon, unusually depressed
on account Of business complications
and met young Waterbury comm.
out. Waterbury was tall, smootl
faced, manly looking fellow, witt
features like those cut III IA cameo
but now pale and set. lie went b.
DaIrymple with an unsmiling nod
and the latter passed into the house
Ma'molsalle was still in the drawinl
room, with IA countenance that told Ii,
tales, but was as serene and fresh a
usual.
"What have you been doing to tina
boy?' he asked, after he hal shake
hands and drawn a chair up near t
her
she laughed, and flushed little a
she replied:
Nothing, o father coniessor, e2
cept to tell him how foolish he wa.
Tea?" she asked questioningly, turn
ing to the cups on the low table be
side her, and picking up thin Sic
OF lemon with the tongs.
"No, thanks, " he said shortly; 'yo
know that J hate the stuff I onl
take hot lemonade when l have
cold