The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1897-05-22
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1W0MAN5 INF UENCE

No, laughed Margaret, allowing
herself to be placed in the chair in ques-
ton. i am very much alive, as you
| see. You and Miss Hilton really amuse
M; your ideas of S'conset are as differ
emit from the reality as night from day.
1t is whole host of delights in itself. I
am really not an object OF sympathy, 50
your pity has all been thrown away"
SO it has, You bad girl. Why didn't
you tell me before. 1 might have saved
sJme. Still I'm glad to see you back.
Uncle will be delighted. He has been
positively unbearable, and l do hope
your presence will improve his temper.
| Oh, had quite forgotten. Your cousin
is with you, isn't he? Is he nice? How
does he like things, and how do you
| like himi"
Alice moved nearer to Margaret, and
taking her hand, laughingly gazed into
her face.
Yes, he Is home. He came yesterday
afternoon, and Well, it is simply
uncomfortable. Fancy tho 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.
w ell, don't think about it, my dear,
said Alice, consolingly. 1T isn't your
fault. / am anxious to see your cousin.
His return is all over the neighborhoo1,
of course. I'm afraid IL won't please
Mrs. Downs. She.may think poor dear
Alfy's chances lessened thereby. He
has pinned to mere skeleton during
your absence, Margaret"
A eontemptuous expression passed
| over Margarets face.
| Il do wish some one would marry him
and carry him OF to another neighbor-
hood" she said Il am so thoroughly
tired Of seeing him around. He may
be the paragon his mother thinks him.
L daresay he is. He hasn't brains
enough to be otherwise. But prefer u
| little wickedneSs to want of sense.
Don't be sarcastic discussing Ally,
my dear. Hc 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 Tie
world.
THE want Of it, you mean, suggested
Alice, sagcly. 1T is wonderful power,
no doubt. 1t makes beauty more beau
=
ness more great. The very thought of
1t makes me wax eloquent. Seriously,
my dear, poverty is the meanest thing
under the sun. Nell agrees with me
there. / had letter from her this
morning, and to cheer you l will read
| it"
How is Nell?" asked Margaret,
smiling at thought her mind conjured
up. Il don't zee 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 I hung it by Alice's plaque,
the contrast between it and her indigo
| lake and impossible. trees was startling,
even to my inartistic eye. ] stood it for a
few days, but at last nature would bear
no moro, and the plaque now reposes in
my trunk, where the sun can not fade
or the dust iniure. Here's her letter.
MY DEAR ALICE: at last am sitting
down to answer your letter, and ac-
! knowledge its welcome Enclosure. My
head is buzzing the things / have to say,
but I'll begin at the beginning. Craft
tude before everything in my category.
II will therefore thank you for your
| Check. / 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 l shall adopt it IS
| showing my deep and abiding respect
/ for money.
! This particular money came in quite
apropos. We had been getting OR 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
10 mind The painfully emaciated cond.-
ton of the family purse. 1t looked ex-
| tremely humble, assure you, despite
| the fact that poverty is always proud.
! But the moment your cheek arrived,
what a changed 1t Immediately swelled
with pride, like the tabled frog who's
| picture / used to admire SO extray-
! 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 l think it a decided mis-
| take on the part OF mamma and papa to
have had so many children. But have
noticed that this mistake is common
among poor people. | 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
quired if we liked our new fat. My dear
child. the question was superfluous.
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 trifle
broader than the road which is popu-
larly supposed 10 lead TO eternal bliss.
] We have daylight at each end and vary
ing degrees of twilight in the middle,
and our bedrooms are SO small that
Bess, being n 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 / shiver at the possibility
of such brother in-law. He likes her,
l know, for he comes here nearly every
night, sits in our best chair, which he
Il