The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1895-03-27

nlshed; their hall upholstered in Persian
patterned Brussels, with rosewood rack
and Gothic hall chair, but the kitchen
was gloomy, subterranean apartment,
scantily furnished and uninviting in
aspect.
Moreover, the Lindleys were strug-
Cling to keep up appearances on mod
crate income, and Betty, the little work
house girl, in her print frock and thick
shoes, was the only servant they kept
Dear mel what is the young man
sticking his nose in here for?' cried out
Esther Indignantly. 'Does he expect
to find drains in the fireplace or under
the washtubs?''
Please, sir, the sinks in the cellar,
sir. This way, sirl' said Betty, clamp
ing on ahead and turning open cellar
door, whence rushed out blast of
sepulohrally damp air.
But the one glance into the kitchen
had been enough. Esther, in o greasy
pink dress, and her hair In bristle of
curl papers, sat before a tray, with
bowl in hor lap, eating a 10 o'clock
breakfast, while her pretty feet. thrust
into pair of badly worn slippers, dis
played sundry unmended holes, and
soiled pocket handkerchief tied around
her neck did duty in place of the neat
collar or frill generally supposed to be
necessary.
Mrs. Lindley was bending over huge
kettle of bubbling and boiling preserves
upon the range, and at the washtub
stood a slight, trim figure, with an
apron tied around her waist and sleeves
above the elbow, Emily herself, scrub
bling away with the energy of laun-
dress, and her shining hair wound in
lustrous braids around and about her
small head
Uncle Hobart, following closely at
the heels of his nephew, was just in
time to hear Esther's petulant voice
from the other room sounding shrilly on
their ears.
n It's too bad, mammal The toast is
scorohed to oinder, and the coffee isn't
drinkable. I must have some fresh
madep'
"Oh, Elite, don'tl' ooaxed Emily.
mamma is so tired, and she has SO
much to dol Won't glass of milk dor"
mo, 1t won'tl must have coffee,
and decent coffee, tool' asserted the
brunette, tapping her pretty foot ON the
floor and knitting her jetty brows.
Then I'll make it, !" said Emily, eff
you'll wait until get these collars rub
bed out. 3"
"I'd be ashamed to turn washerwom-
an" grumbled Miss Esther.
"I'm not ashamed of anything that is
useful" cried Emily. with spirit,
when papa works SO hard and the
washing bills are SO heavy. 1t won't
hurt either of us to do little honest
work and spare mamma all we can. !"
"Do leave off moralizing and get my
ooffeel" snarled Esther. who had evil
IDENTIFY risen in no amiable mood.
And the borough surveyor and his
bogus assistant, having no excuse for
remaining longer, heard nothing more.
Paul Fontaine was silent as he walked
along che street, but Uncle Hobart
ohuckled softly to himself.
Nothing like an inside viewr" said
he. 1.-THE up stairs angel often turns into
down stairs demon, eh? Hal hal hal
Paul, my boy, beware of brunettes.
There's mischief behind the arch of
those black brows. If you're determined
to have wife, take the one of the wash
tub, the little girl who wanted to help
her mother
81 believe you are right, Uncle Ho-
bart, said Paul.
"But tell me, Paul. how you came
TO choose me instead of Esther" ques-
toned the blue eyed bride as they stood
together by the sea at Brighton the week
after their wedding, ESTHER is so
much prettier, SO much lovelier than
me- Every one likes Esther better than
they do me- And do you know, darling,
l half think that Esther was just lit
tie disappointed that you didn't prefer
her?'
''Do you think so?' said Paul care
lessly. 1--WE can scarcely account for
our preferences. Esther is very brilliant
and beautiful, and when first we be-
came acquainted was fairly bewitohed
by her. But now l value the steady
shining star of your love above all the
will-o' -the-wisps in creationW
But he never told her Of his amateur
sanitary inspection and Uncle Hobart's
test of character. London Tit-Bits.