The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1896-05-20

Qef lace.
Yes, he is home. He came yesterday
afternoon, and Well, 1t Is simply
unendurable. Fancy the position Of
playing hostess to man who feels you
have taken his birthright Yet, there
are people in this place who think me
fortunate. Some persons never see be-
yond the surface"
We'll, don't think about 1t, my dear,
said Alice, consolingly. lit isn't your
fault. I am anxious to see your cousin.
His return is all over the neighborhood,
OF course. I'm afraid 1t won't please
Mrs. Downs. She may think poor dear
Alfy's chances lessened thereby. he
has pined to q mere skeleton during
your absence, Margaret.
A contemptuous expression passed
over Margaret's face.
II do wish some one would marry him
and carry him off to another nelgnDor-
hood she said. II am so thoroughly
tired of seeing him around. he may
he the paragon his mother thinks him.
T doresav he is. He hasn't brains
enough to be otherwise. But prefer a
little wickedness to want Of sense"
Don't be sarcastic discussing Ally.
nv dear. He is very nice, girlish
Young man, and his bank account will
reach from here to the Gulf Of Mexico.
perhaps if it were shorter he might
be BETTER" commented Margaret.
Money causes all the trouble in the
world"
The want Of it, you mean, Suggested
Alice, sagely. 1T is wonderful power,
no doubt. 1t makes beauty more beau
tiful, virtue more virtuous, and great
ness more great. The very thought OF
it makes me wax eloquent. Seriously,
my dear, poverty is the meanest thing
under the sun. Nell agrees with me
there. I had q letter from her this
morning, and to cheer you I will read
it."
How is Nell?" asked Margaret,
smiling at thought her mind conJured
up. Il don't see that plaque she
painted. Have you become unapprecia-
tive Of her genius?"
No." returned Alice from the depths
Of her desk, where she was hunting for
her letter. But uncle gave me that
lovely little landscape on the left there.
and when T hung it by Alice's plaque,
the contrast between it and her indigo
lake and impossible trees was startling,
even to my inartistic eye. I stood itfor
few days, but at last nature would bear
no more, and the plaque now reposes ID
my trunk, where the sun can not fade
or the dust injure. Here's her letter.
MY DEAR ALICE: At last am sitting
down to answer your letter, and ac.'
knowledge it's welcome inclosure. My
head is buzzing the things have to say,
but I'll begin at the beginning. Graft.
tude before everything in my category.
1 will therefore thank you for your
Check. I spell it with capital, you
observe. I don't know that it is correct
according to the rules Of photography,
but under the laws which make US i'm.
portant or insignificant in proportion as
we are rich or poor, it is perfectly IN
order. Henceforward shall adopt 1t az
showing my deep and abiding respect
for money.
This particular money came IN quite
apropos. We had been getting our sum-
mer wardrobe q use this word advisedly,
as it sounds more imposing than enumer-
ating details), and you will not have to
strain your imagination much to bring
to mind the painfully emaciated condi-
ton of the family purse. 1t looked eX-
tremely humble, assure you, despite
the fact that poverty is always proud.
But the moment your check arrived,
what change 1t Immediately swelled
with pride, like the tabled frog whose
picture I used to admire so extrav.
agantly, and though it has been consid-
erably depleted since, it still remains
fat.
Now, Alice, word Of advice. Keep
in with the old bear and make him
leave you some money; for, horrible
thought, the Reynoldses seem to be grow
ing poorer. I think it decided mis-
take on the part Of mamma and papa to
have had so many children. ButI have
noticed that this mistake is common
among poor people. I suppose they
want numbers somewhere, so they make
up in babies what they lack in dollars.
II matters don't mend with us, shall go
to writing stories; always did think l
had talent.
IN your last letter you mildly in
uuired if we liked our new fiat. My dear
child, the question was superf1uous.
Flats weren't made to be liked; not the
cheap fats, at least, and those are the
only kind we indulge in. Our present
one is narrow tunnel, probably trite
broader than the road which is popu-
larly supposed to lead to eternal bliss.
We have daylight at each end and vary
ing degrees Of twilight in the middle,
and our bedrooms aye so small that
Bess, being a girl Of resources, kneels
upon the bed to say her prayers and
prevent me from tumbling over her feet.
which, to say the least, are not in pro-
| portion to our apartment.
Speaking of Bess, I'm dying to know
| il she ever mentions Mr.. Spencer in her
letters to you. That man is my abom-
ination, and I shiver at the possibility
! Of such brother-in-law. He likes her,
I know, for he comes here nearly every
| night, sits in our best chair, which he
| has nearly worn out, and talks through
the biggest nose it has been my fort
une to see. Altogether he is odiOus,
and if Bess marries him, she is no Sis
ter Of mine.
"Allusions to marriage and such giddy
subjects remind me Of what consider
q most important piece Of news. I have
devoted follower, painfully YER
dant, callow, youth, with brains so few
rs to be scarcely worth noticing, and u
bank account so long that well,
that, like charity, it covereth multi
tude Of sins. He is so enraptured with
me, that my red hair is golden in his
eyes, from which fact you may estimate
the extent Of his imagination.
"'If he only had little more sense,
I find myself saying morning, noon and
night, but with all the possibilities that
cluster around that if the unwelcome
fact still obtrudes itself. His mind is a
u