The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-10-17
JOHN GREEN'S SERIOUS
MISTAKE.
From the London Argosv.

FROM the London ArgOSy.
John Green was 40, and a bachelor and
rich. 1t was a matter of certain knowl-
edge that if one intrusted these three par
ticles Of information to any person over
the age of fve-and-twenty, he or she i'm
mediately made answer, either by the
opinion. HE ought to marry" or by the
question, "Why doesn't he marry?" It is
! true that one lady, on learning his chief
points of social interest, had exclaimed,
| Dear me. He is wiser than Solomon"
but then she was eccentric, and had had
| three husbands.
John Green was loose knit, and wore a
heavy, square brown bearl; but there was
| a kindly humor in his eye that told of
charity within, and was vastly attractive
to children and some others who were shy
in converse ton. He was a stock broker in
a very large way of business, being sole
partner in the firm of Green, Richards &
Van Schaacht. Richards had been dead
for 10 years or more, and Van Schaacht,
an Americanized German Jew, had settled
permanently in New York as banker
and broker. to look after the American
ards & Van Schaacht We're what is known
as arbtrageurs, which means that. with
the aid of the cable, they did business be-
tween London and New York or Amster-
dam, buying on one market and selling on
another. 1t was responsible work, demand
ing great quickness and energy, and ne
cessitating, moreover, heavy transactions
| at the end Of the day, owing to the differ
ence in the time between England and
America.
John Green was man who liked to do
| things himself, and he had no confidential
clerk to whom he cared to leave important
matters. Consequently it was often or s
| o'clock before he got away from the city.
| Then he would go to his club for dinner,
| and afterward play pool or billiards until
| it was sufficiently late to go to bed. One
| day was very much like another, except
| that on Saturday he was able to dine ear
| lier, and so sometimes went to a theater.
| On Sunday, if the weather was fine, he
often walked out to see an aunt who lived
at Hendon. She had educated him after
| his parents death, and he was very fond
| of her He did not care for going much into
| society, because, as he said, the men SEEM
| ed to think he could talk of nothing but
| business and the women seemed to think
| he could talk of nothing but nonsense. Il
dare say they're right" he would remark,
plaintively, ''but don't like to be remind
| ed of it,"
one Sunday his aunt told him she was
| expecting a visitor.
| ooh, really! Who's that?" he asked, STIR
| ring his tea slowly.
| "Well, she's a daughter Of a very old
friend of mine. who, poor soul, has lately
died. Mrs. Walters, John; dare say you
| have heard me speak of her. She left me
! a little legacy by her will, and asked me
| to look after Cicely as far as could, L
don't think it's right for girl of her age
to live alone so l have asked her TO come
and stay here until she has time to look
| around and make a better arrangement
She is a nice little thing, and shall be
| glad to have her."
Eyes. Aunt Jane. 1 think that will be
capital plan; but 1 suppose / shan't be
wanted any more on Sundays"
Now, John, don't be foolish, but pass
| YOUR cup for some fresh tea; that must
| be quite cold"
John smiled and gave her the cup.
The next Sunday was wet, and the Sun
day after that John was obliged to pay a
| call which had been long owing, so 1t was
| three weeks before he went to Hendon
| again.
It was very hot day, and he walked
| with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his
straw hat far back on his head AS the
public house in the village was closed, he
| thought he would approach his aunt's
| house by the back way and ask William,
the butler, to find him bottle of beer.
! He lounged al the door which opened on
to the little red-tiled yard, while William
| placed a lumber on the window sill, and
! drew the cork John watched the beer
! approvingly as it frothed into the glass
| with a velvety fop-fiop against the side.
Good beer William" he said, holding
| it up to the light. Il suppose you drink
it yoursef?"
AS the glass emptied and he looked
through the bottom of it, he saw some one
| in a pink dress watching him from be-
! hind the hedge where the chickens were
| kent. 1t seemed to him that she looked
different from other women and he set
down his tumbler sharply saying: who's
that in the chicken yard?'
| Miss Cicely, l expect, sir
"Miss Cicely! Who's Miss Cicely? Oh,
I remember"
He buttoned his walstcoat hastily and
| walked round to the other side of the
hedge. Cicely Walters looked up as he
came towards her. 81 beg your pardon"
| he heean. "but think you must be Miss
Walters. and as you are likely to see a
great deal more of me than you will care
for. l think 1 ought to Introduce myself
| with as little delay as possible"
Miss Walters laughed, and made some
| conventional remark of greeting.
"Decidedly," John thought, "she is diff
ferent from other women wonder what
1t isY'
0Hava you been robbing the nests?" he
| asked her.
TYes: rye found two eggs; yesterday
there were four. 1 believe the cat eats
| some"
"Do YOU always feed the chickens in
| the afternoon?'
| .f~v---i.- ,lr-o.,e axca,t when ft'a wet
Curiously enough John always remem-
bered this on his subsequent visits, al
though he forgot more important matters,