The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1894-03-12
HER TELEGRAM.

dead set ever since she came and / say she
shan't have himw
1t was Clarence Barton of whom Jane
Bell spoke as ''him" and Ruth Harland
whom she meant as "she." 1t was on the
eve of projected picnic party. Just five
minutes ago Ruth had exhibited her new
dress 10 her rival. quite ignorant Of the
fact that Jane was a rival at all.
Pm so glad Mrs. Spencer sent it home
tonight" said Ruth, for l couldn't have
gone tomorrow il 1t had not come"
And Jane Bell. who had been hoping all
day that the dressmaker would fail to fulfill
her promise, had replied, sweetly, "Tm so
glad. dear!'
But now that she was alone and thought
of Clarence Barton. who was such
catch" and whose heart she intended to
win, and as she recalled how Ruth had
come between them. and fully understood
what an opportunity to-morrow's picnic
would Re for her. she grew furious.
''She shall not go, if | can prevent her,"
she said to herself. 81 must have my op-
pnrtunity at the picnic. Clarence Barton
liked me before Ruth came, and she shall
not flourish him before every ones eyes
as her prize already. l hate her. and l
only wish l dared to insult her and send
her home; but mamma would never suffer
anything TO be done to hurt the feelings of
u6dI cNuoiu OhUo Culiu, suppose, SO i
must manage some other way"
She glanced at the dress lying on the
chair, and wondered whether she dared in
any way disigure il, but her conscience
was not equal 10 the deed. Horribly be-
coming as the dress was, it must remain
uninjured.
"Pd like to tear it into shreds." said
Jane; shut 1 must achieve my purpose in
some other way. If [ could only send her
homer Then thought flashed into her
mind. 81 can send her home" she said,
land when once there she will be obliged
TO stay. L know she can't afford the ex.
pense OF journey back to us this summer;
and if she can be banished | shall be Mrs
Barton yet"
And the girl laughed spitefully as she
glanced out of the window. 1t was
o'clock The streets we're quiet and DARK.
Jane had seldom been out alone so late
but she intended to go now. She took her
waterproof cloak from its peg and sought
in her wardrobe for her plainest hat; over
this she tied blue veil, and, locking her
room door and slipping the key into her
pocket. she crept slowly down the stairs
into the basement
''SIt up for me, Ann" she whispered to
the servant girl, land I'll give you a pres
ent tO-mnrrow; but you need not tell
mamma Pm out"
Away Jane hurried into the main road.
where she took tralGcar, which was
travelling cityward; and on reaching the
terminus she alighted, and in much trepi-
datiOn and consciousness that she was
awakening good deal of unpleasant OBJ
servatioD. she sought the district telegraph
Office.
After ALL" Jane said to herself. ssno
one can see my face; and what is little
confusion to the loss of rich husband ?"
The thought encouraged her as she ad-
vanced to the counter, and handed In her
slip of paper.
How much. pease?" to the clerk who
smiled IN an unpleasant manner, as he
answered her.
Then it was over. She hurried away,
caught the return tram. and reached home
unmolested. But she was pale and tremD-
ling, as she slipped into the kitchen, where
she was welcomed by sleepy Ann.
"Ihe mlssuS don't know you're out:
but she tried to wake you a while ago.
There's telegram for your cousin and
she's frettiDg over it,"
Let her fret, it will do her good" said
Jane, viciously. to herself. as she stole IF
to bed.
She slept quietly and dreamed dreams Of
triumph. while in the next room little
Ruth packed her trunk and kept fearful
vigil.
''Some one must be i'll or dead" she
soboed, cor they would never have tele-
graphed to me to return home. How can
/ bear this long journey in such suspense,
and what shall find when reach the end
of itp''
When Jane went down to breakfast the
next morning she found Ruth ready for
her journey. and was told how telegram
had come the night before. signed '"r.
Smith," summoning her home.
"And Ruth knows no one of that name,"
said James mother; $50 / tell her to hope
for the besti it may be nothing very seri-
GUS"
depend upon it. it is not" said Jane,
with some pity In her heart, Ruth was so
pale. "They are only anxious to have you
with them Don't fret"
But Ruth was not to be cheered. and she
left with many signs.
.sAnd you will lose the picnic, too what
a pity J" said Jane, hypocritically.
YES" answered Ruth, with sob.
And when Jane saw In Ruth's eyes that
she was so sorry to lose the picnic, and
also guessed why she was so sorry, SIZE no
longer piled her.
Jane went to the picnic herself, and
looked her best: but some chanca occur
renee kept Clarence Barton away, and, SO
far as she was concerned, the day was a
failure. Neither did she see hun again
that week, and some one told her he had
left home on business. Still, that was bet
ter than what might have been, and Jane
waited hopefully.
At the end of the week came letter
from Ruth.
that nothing was The matter at home They
did not telegraph for me at ALL 1t was some
mistake, suppose. / should have come back
for thr picnic, only had used all my pocket
money and couldn't. And now have such
very strange thing TO tell you-so strange /
hardly have words for IL. When your father
put me into The train and went away fell so
lonely and so sad that think | was CRYING q
little, when som one touched me on The arm
and said, 'Miss Ruth" 1t was Mir. BARRON.
81 met Mr.. Bell just now, and he told me OF
your journey. and the cause OF 1t. Pm sorryn
he said.
I hen be sat beside me, and said Kind things,
as all the rest did; but / could not persuade
myself thai nothing had happened. and know
he saw how alarmed was, and then suddenly
be leaned toward me and said-Oh. janet i
can't tell you what. exactly; but something
about my grief being his. and asking me to let
him help me bear it-and IL was so sudden and
so strange But / knew by the way his words
strengthened me that liked him better than l
VIZ of