The true Democrat. [volume] (Bayou Sara [La.]) 1892-1928, 1898-02-05
Ind Fanny Gwynne is to be the Joan
/ se A., Mont - ha fun9'

Ind Fanny Gwynne is to be the Joan
Of Arc" Won't it be fun?''
"Of course it will be fun," said
MIR. Cratchley, who would have as
sented had his bride-elect proposed
pilgrimage to Patagonia, or an expe-
dition to the steppes Of Russia. But,
for all that, he wasn't particularly
partial to late hours, aud the night
air disagreed with his rheumatism.
"lll have things differently ordered
after we're married." said lie to him.
self.
Fred Stapleton was the fist to wei
come them in the gilded theong-tall,
stately, and handsome as Adonis.
Gust in time, Winny,' said he.
"Wo want you to take the part OF
the 'Bereaved Bride Kitty Park has
been kept at home by neuralgia"
"Winny, indeed!'' mentally com
mented Mr.. Cratchley. II call that
familiar. However, Of course, he
WON'T dare to call her so after she be-
comes Mrs. Cratchley."
ooh, how delightful!' cried Winny,
her rose-and-lily face Frightening up.
"Of course I'll take it,"
"I-I don't know that I exactly ap-
prove of this private theatrical bust
| ness" Mr.. Cratchley stammered.
eyes, you do, coaxed Winny. "And
it isn't private theatrical, either; it's
only tableaux. Where's Mrs. Car
| stairs? Imust go to her at once. You
! stay here, Ferdinand"-Mr. Cratch-
ley's solemn visago broke into smile
! at tho pretty, familiar address-"and
I'll be back in FIVE minutes.
She Auttered away, her white dress
shining about her, as cloud envelopes
star, the soft oaor Of roses, which
always chung to her, leaving pleasant
scent behind.
And the solitude of great desolation
fell upon Mr.. Ferdinand Cratchley,
although Mrs. Carstairs' drawing
rooms were full.
Presently Winny came back, still
worse luck-escorted by that scamp
Stapleton.
"Ferdinand," she said softly, "'tis
such favor to ask Of you-"
And she put her little rose-gloved
hand on his.
"To ask is to receive, my love, "
the elderly swain gallantly responded.
"Mr. Mercer isn't here. Mr.. Mercer
was to do The Captive Of Abyssinia,
and dear Mrs. Carstairs is so disap-
pointed. The costume is elegant-all
purple velvet and spangles, with the
loveliest real fez, that Charlie Car
stairs brought from Constantinople
himself. And it's down in the pro-
gramme, and all. Dearest, won't you
be the Captain Of Abyssinia?'"
Mr.. Cratchley hesitated q little.
Tableaux, to-be-sure, weren't much in
his line; but then, Winny's eyes and
voice were so irresistible, and there
was o certain satisfaction to think
that he was as able to enter into
this sort Of thing as Fred Stapleton
himself.
'*You Wilt know you will" cried
Winny, clapping her hands. 81 can
see it in your eyes. Come, quick, and
let Fred dress you!'
my DEAR" hesitated Mr.. Cratch-
ley, "wouldn't it be just as we'll to say
Mr.. Stapleton?'
''Mr. Stapleton, then,' said Winny,
with pretty, defiant shrug Of her
shoulders. "There's plenty of time;
it's only q touch of burnt cork and a
few knots of rope"
"Real rope?" demanded Mr.. Cratch-
ley, somewhat distastefully.
"0f course! Why, the tableau
would lose half it's effect if everything
wasn't real"
None Of Mr.. Cratchley's Wall Street
friends would have known him, robed
in velvet and jewels, with a tremen-
dous false beard and eyebrows Of
burned cork, and bound with many
bonds of the very best MANILA rope.
IT was rather al uncomfortable po-
sition, reclining on what was intended
to be messy pile Of stones, but was in
reality sofa on casters, wherewith he
was wheeled on to the stage, muttering,
so that Fred and Winny could hear:
cts the last time any one will
catch me in any Of this fol-de-rol non
sense!"
The ten Or twenty seconds during
which ho low +horo IN tho full r1oro of