The River Falls times. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1894-1933, 1897-06-22

In 4: 80 and across country in $40, but
how is that to help me? | might be a
cricket professional, but it is not very
dignified position. Not that | care
straw about dignity, you know, but
should not like to hurt the old lady
feelings"
your aunt's?"
YES my aunt's. My parents were
killed in the mutiny, you know, when
/ was a baby, and she has looked after
me ever since. She has been very good
to me. I'm sorry to leave her"
"But why should you leave herr"
They had reached the garden gate, and
the girl leaned her racket upon the top
Of it, looking up with grave interest at
her big, white-fanneled companion.
IT'S Browning" said he.
."Whatw
Don't tell my aunt that | said it
he sank his voice to a Whisper-"I hate
Browning"
Clara Walker rippled off into such
merry peal of laughter that he forgot
the evil things which he had suffered
from the poet, and burst out laughing
too.
II can't make him out" said he. Il
try, but he is one too many. No doubt
it is very stupid Of me; ! don't deny it.
But as long as ! cannot there is no use
pretending that / can. And then, OF
course she feels hurt for she is very
fond Of him, and likes to read him
aloud in the evenings. She is reading
piece now, Pippa Passes and l assure
you, Miss Walker, that l don't even
know what the title means. You must
think me dreadful fool"
but surely he is not so incompre-
hensible as all that?" she said, as an
attempt at encouragement
HE is very bad. There are some
things, yOn know, which are fine. That
ride Of the three Dutchmen, and Herve
Riel and others they are all right. But
there was piece we read last week.
The first line stumped my aunt, and 1T
takes a good deal to do that, for she
rides very straight. 'Setebos and Sete-
hos and Setebos.' That was the line"
1T sounds like a charm"
mo it is a gentleman's name. Three
gentlemen, | thought, at first, but my
aunt says one. Then he goes on, Think
eth he dwelleth in the light of the
moon 1t was a very trying piece"
Clara Walker laughed again.
You must not think of leaving your
aunt" she said. Think how lonely she
would be without you"
well, yes, | have thought of that.
But YOU must remember that my aunt
is to all intents hardly middle-aged, and
d very eligible person. ] don't think that
her dislike to mankind extends to IN
dividuals. She might form new ties, ana
then / should be a third wheel in the
coach. 1t was all very we'll as long as l
was only boy, when her first husband
was alive"
But. good gracious, you don't mean
that Mrs. Westmacott is going to marry
again?" gasped Clara
The young man glanced down at her
with a question in his eyes. 'Oh, 1t IS
only a remote possibility, you know"
said he. still, of course, 1T might hap
pen. and ] should like to know what L
ought to turn my hand to-"
II wish | could help YOU" said CARA.
But | really know very little about
such things. However, L could talk to
nv father, who knows a very great
deal of the world.
Il wish you would. I should be so glad
if you would"
Then | certainly will. And now |
must say good night, Mr.. Westmacott,
for papa will be wondering where l
am"
Good night. Miss Walker" lie
pulled off his flannel cap, and stalked
away through the gathering darkness.
Clara had imagined that they had
been the last on the lawn, but, looking
back from the steps which led UP to the
French windows, she saw two dark
figures moving across toward the
house. AS they came nearer she could
distinguish that they were Harold Den
yer and her sister Ida. The murmur
of their voices rose up to her ears. and
then the musical little childllke laugh
which she knew so well. Il am so de-
lighted" she heard her sister say. so
pleased and proud. / had no idea OF It.
Your words were such surprise and
10Y to me- oh, l am so glad
rs that you, Ida?'
"Oh. there is Clara. / must go in, Mr..
Denver. Good nightt
There were a few whispered words,
n laugh from Ida. and a Good night,
Miss Walker" out of the darkness.
Clara took her sisters hand, and they
passed together through the long fold
ing window The doctor had gone into
his study. and the dining-room was
empty. A single small red lamp upon
the sideboard was reflected tenfold by
the plate about it and the mahogany
beneath it, though its single wick cast
bur feeble light into the large, dimly
Swallowed room. Ida danced oft to she