The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1894-04-26

bracelet of him to settle a philopena
present with Pauline Brookes, six
months ago. Jones was a dapper lit
tie fellow, with stiffiywaxed 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. "Here's the size,"
producing 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 1, brusquely, 1884.
"H'Emma, sir 2" Jones put his
hand back of his ear.
''Helen!" l bawled out, painfully
conscious that the eyes of three pretty
girls, who were looking at turquois
lockets at counter beyond, were upon
| me.
every pretty name" simpered
Jones, as he wrote down the order.
"Any particular style, sir, ?"
Simple and solid," said 1; "that's
all. ="
eyes, sir. 1t shall be attended to at
once" said Jones. "Shall 1 send it
to your residence, or"
'Ill call for it tomorrow" said l.
''Pardon me, Mr.. Belton," cried
old Mr. Glitterman, who had heard
portion of our colloquy, "but if it
wouldn't be taking liberty to inquire
whether you intend to keep house or
| board"
"What?" calculated 1.
"To keep house or board?" reiter
ated Mr.. Glitterman ''Because in
| the former case we should esteem it
|
favor to supply the silver and table
ware. "
I muttered some not particularly
complimentary answer and went out
of the store, closing the door behind
me with some emphasis.
"Going to be married, eh, old
chap?" said Sniffins, familiarly thrust
ing his elbow into my side, as ] strolled
into Delmonico's for my lunch that
day.
"No!' said l, taking up the carte.
"Oh, come, don't deny the soft i'm
parchment, said Snifins with a
wink.
"What has put such an idea as that
into your head?" demanded /, some
what Indignantly.
"Name of Helen" said Sniffins,
with an idiotic giggle. "Waiter, a
pate de foie gras here! Let's drink
her health, Bolton, when"
At this stage l pretended to see
someone who | knew at an opposite
table, and bolted across the room.
Old Mr.. Jessup was trotting up
Broadway as l came out, with a brown
silk umbrella under his arm.
"Eh?" said Mr.. Jessup, turning
upon me the moony glare of two spec
tacled eyes.
"What's this hear about you, my
dear young friend? Accept my con-
gratulations! Matrimony is always
blessed estate, and"
"Oh, yes, don't doubt it, sir, L
hurriedly interrupted, "but-a-
there's some mistake about it"
"Miss- What did you say" said
old Mr.. Jessup, beamingly. "Call
around this evening and tell us all
about it, there's a good fellow.
haven't time to listen just now!
|
I could have torn my hair with rage.
Mr.. Jessup was Pauline Brookes's
uncle and guardian, and | knew that
my cake in that direction would be all
dough, if once the fatal story OF the
wedding-ring got to Pauline's ears.
1 hurried up Broadway mentally
gnashing my teeth, and in my i'm
petuous haste, had nearly stumbled
over Pauline herself, just coming out
of florists, with tiny boutonnlere
of English violets III her hand.
.sPaulinei" cried |, rapturously'
But Pauline drew back, the least niue
distance in the world, thereby put
ting an invisible barrier between us
that froze me like an iclcle.