The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1897-04-21

CuIlOuslys wondering II bneFe cOulu
have been a spark of sentiment in such
a severely practical nature.
'He showed me the photograph,
said Emily. as they climbed tho stairs
| together. 'It was bad, even for an
amateur. Only the back of my head
was taken, but you we're in strong
light that made you squint and wrinkle
up your face, and your feet looked i'm
mense."
When Miss Briggs went down stairs
to dinner that evening, she had laid
aside her customary gray serge dress,
as homely as it was servi ceable, and
wore dark blue, tallor-made suit
Remembering that Emily had said her
feet looked immense in the photo.
graph, she had carefully changed her
heavy, broad-soled boots for dainty,
low-cut shoes. She stopped a moment
in the hall, hearing q familiar laugh.
She remembered that the last time she
had heard that voice il had bidden her
good.by in hot anger. Then she
pushed the door ajar and entered the
parlor, where the party had congre-
gated to wait for dinner.
DIR. Frederick Powell was standing
by window in animated conversation
with Emily. He scarcely noticed her
aunt's entrance, SO engrossed was he
with the fair niece. Miss Briggs had
been pretty girl in her day, but the
photograph he had taken, and which
was still fresh in his mind, was that
of wrinkled, faded woman, careless
of her attire. He looked up with sur
prise as she advanced toward them.
The brusk independence of manner he
had expected to see had given place to
stately dignity. She was one of those
women for whom becoming dress
does wonders.
"I'm glad to see you'll" they both
said in the same breath, and shook
hands as if the most platonio of friend
ships had always existed between
them.
Miss Briggs was not so we'll pleased
with her survey. "He's getting stout"
she thought critically, ''and triae
bald. He's not the handsome man he
used to be-"
Emily was charmed with DIR. Powell.
She found him entertaining and agree
able. He praised her sketches. He
told her interesting incidents of his
travels in many lands, and amusing
anecdotes OF his professional life.
When the party went sightseeing, he
was her tete-a-tete if they rode When
they walked, he was always at her side
to hold her umbrella.
Seeing this, Miss Briggs calmly re.
volved in her solitary orbit-a trihe
more independent in manner, perhaps,
and if possible more outspoken in her
radical opinions. Emily tried in vain
to persuade her aunt that the old serge
was too unbecoming for further use
fulness. Every morning she put it on
with the grim satisfaction of carrying
her point, and looking her worst.
The days went by too fast in the old
town. Night and morning and noon,
they listened to the Ginning of the
bells in the Ivy grown Shandon tower,
and then it was night and morning and
noon again. Still the little party lin
gered.
One day, after lunch, they started
out to make farewell visit to Blarney
Castle. DR.. Powell and Emily gaily
led the way on iauntlng car. Sew
eral of the party followed on horse
back, and the rear was brought up by
light wagonette. Miss Briggs rode
in this, net being an excellent horse
woman, and having mortal antipathy
to iauntIng cars.
1t was q drive none of them could
ever forget. But by the time they had
reached the castle, the sunshine had
faded out, the landscape was gray and
blurred. and the rain began to pour
in torrents. There was nothing to do
but sit down and wait for it to stop,
but they had grown accustomed to
this popularity of the weather in Ire
land.
An old woman came to the door,
begging. They tolled her in with a
shilling, and she entertained them
with gruesome tales of the banshees
and witches that inhabIt the bat
haunted ruins OF Blarney at night.
The doctor handed Emily pencil and
a leaf torn from his memorandum book,
and she began to sketch the old peas
ant, with quick, effective strokes. Miss
Briggs sat back in dim corner, listen.
ing carefully, for the woman's brogue
was almost unintelligible to her. Twice
she glanced up, to find DR.. Powell
looking at her.
Presently in a pause of the story
telling, he walked over and stood be-
side her. "What does this remind you
of, Gardiner" he asked abruptly.
Nothing" she answered. "Why?"
at reminds me of gypsy camp we
visited one time. You have not for.
gotten it, hope. 1t was the last day
of August, sixteen years ago. The
scene comes back to me very plainly.
An old hsg told our fortunes. Some.
how, you look just as you did then"
He walked over to Emily again.
Miss Briggs drew back little farther
into the dim corner, and listened no
more to the legends of Blarney. She
heard, instead, the cracking of a
camp fire, the stamping of horses tied
in the background, the whining tones
of the old gypsy who pretended to
look into the future, when in reality
she had only TO look into the faces be-
Fo-o baw - o1oaa fok fpho..