Hutchinson gazette. [volume] (Hutchinson, Kan.) 1895-1902, 1895-09-12
or 4. CONAN DOYLE

~ 4. CONAN DOYLE
examine me. Clara, so don't deny It.
I do wish you would have that gray
satin foulard of yours done up. With
little trimming and a new white vest
1t would look as good as new, and 1t Is
really very dowdy."
you were quite late upon the lawn"
said the inexorable Clara.
Eyes, I was rather. So were you,
Have you anything to tell me?" She
broke away into her merry musical
laugh.
II was chatting with Mr.. Westma-
cott."
"And was chatting with Mr.. Dem
yer. By the way, Clara, now tell me
truly, what do you think of Mr.. Den
yer? Do you like him? Honestly now|
81 like him very much indeed. I think
that ne Is one of the most gentlemanly,
modest, manly young men that have
ever known. So now, dear, have you
nothing to tell me?" Clara smoothed
down her sisters golden hair with a
motherly gesture, and stopped her race
to catch the expected confidence. She
could wish nothing better than that
Ida should be the wife Of Harold Dem
yer, and from the words which she had
overheard as they left the lawn that
evening, she could not doubt that there
was some understanding between them.
But there came no confession from
Ida. Only the same mischievous smile
and amused CLEAN in her deep blue
eyes.
THAT gray foulard dress" she
began.
"Oh, you little tease! Come now, I
will ask you what you nave just asked
me. Do you like Harold Denver"
"Oh, he's darling"
"IdaW
well, you asked me. That's what /
think Of him. And now, you dear old
inquisitive, you will get nothing more
out Of me; so you must wait and not
be too curious. I'm going off to see
what papa Is doing" She sprang to
her feet, threw her arms round her sis
ter's neck, gave her a final squeeze, and
was gone. A chorus from Ollvette, sung
in her clear contralto, grew fainter and
fainter until 1t ended in the slam OF
distant door.
But Clara Walker still sat in the dim
lit room with her chin upon her hands
and her dreamy eyes looking out into
the gathering gloom. 1t was the duty
Of her, maiden, to play the part Of a
mother-to guide another in paths
which her own steps had not yet trod-
den. Since her mother died not @
thought had been given to herself, al
was for her father and her sister. In
her own eyes she was herself very
plain, and she knew that her manner
was often ungracious when she would
most wish to be gracious. She saw
her face as the glass reflected 1t, but
she did not see the changing play Of
expression which gave 1t It's charm
the infinite pity, the sympathy, the
sweet womanliness which drew toward
her all who were in doubt and II
trouble, even as poor slow-movine
Charles Westmacott had been drawn
to her that night. She was herself, she
thought, outside the pale of love. But
1t was very different with Ida, merry
little, quick-witted, bright-faced Ida
She was born for love. 1t was her in.
heritance. But she was young and In
nocent She must not be allowed t
venture too far without help in those
dangerous waters. Some understand
Ing there was between her and Harold
Denver. In her heart Of hearts Clara
like every good woman, was a match
maker, and already she had chosen
Denver of all men as the one to whom
she could most safely conflde Ida. HI
had talked to her more than once or
the serious topics Of life, on his asplra
lions, on what man could do to leave
the world better for his presence. She
knew that he was man of noble ma,
ture, high-mlnded and earnest. Ant
yet she did not like this secrecy, this
Discrimination upon the part Of one 81
frank and honest as Ida to tell her what
was passing. She would wait, and II
she got the opportunity next day she
would lead Harold Denver himself or
to this topic. 1t was possible that she
might learn from him what her sister
had refused to tell her.
CHAPTER v. = l,i