Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1898-11-12
CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XIX.
AS one that had passed away from their
world for ever, yet keeping their memories
OF her fresh and living by messages of
love, by words and deeds of thoughtful
affection, with her gentle presence, her
patient endurance, her cheerful laborious-
ness, so constantly ana unavoidably
missed, ~''sister Winnie" PARKWAY in North
America, became to the younger members
of the Caerlyon family n dreamy, myth
cal parsonage, 10 be invested with all man.
ner of attributes and projections, very
lovable and desirable, and much TO be re-
spccted, but mythical. Although she did
send home those bank-bills to mother"
that put her in such n good temper for the
whole day, and the photographers to Sarah
Matilda aud Tommy, still she was myth
cal. Sister Winnie" who used TO bake
the bread, and wash their faces, and curl
Sarah Matildn's hair, to be away there in
that pink-bordered country just where the
edge Of the atlas-map came, with the cold,
blue colorei Atlantic by its side-impossl-
BILE!
1t was understood on I'll hands that
there never wa anybody-never could be
anybody-half so clever, 80 ACCOMPLISHED
rs that lolg-lost mythical sister Win
ric;' and. strangely enough, Winnie's
once harsh steD-mother aud taSk.mistress
never discouraged this ideal by word or
deed.
On the contrary, Sarah Matilda, now q
smart, self-willed, high-tempered, pretty
girl, blooming into 1.-THE maiden-blossoms
of her teenS,' grew disheartened ONE
times with herself and her endeavOrs, in
comparison with all the related achieve
ments and projections she was so often re-
proachfully reminded of as belonging
solely to that banished elder sister. Did
she forget n message, there was a running
comment on the worthlessness Of heed
less maids accompanying the lamenta-
ton of regret for the mice, quiet, careful
ways" OF the sister who never f~orgot-"no,
not if she was sent for iye-aud-twenty
things together Mrs. Elizabeth Anne
Caerlyon's "nagging" powers had not di-
minished in the lcast.) Did incipient wo-
manly vanity prompt Sarah Matilda to
p~assionately desire fashionable hats and
white feathers therein, and urge her
mother to the eXtrayagant purchase, she
received scolding homilics without num-
Der relative to your poor sister Winnie,
who never asked IN inch Of cloth she could
do without"
Madam of Roseworthy, when she men.
tally compared her self-willcd, proud,
handsome niece disadvantageously with
her poor little summarily-dismissed com
panion, was not alone in the remorseful
reno ering Of justice to patient Winnie
Caerlyon.
She had had time TO recall the sterling
memories of her gentleness, Kindness, and
long-suffering-she had had time to re-
member the sweet low voice that was
heard no more, the sweet pale face that
she could never see-she had had time to
think of these things in seven years-of
late years even more than at first.
And SO anne to pass the truth-strange
and strangely fiattering, rs the need
awarded to her for the first time in her
life, rs the long-due reward freely and
fully offered-that Winnie Caerlyon was
sorely missed, was deeply regretted,
though seven years of absence had made
her memory like a dream Of the dead and
gone.
"What ages ago ii seems since poor little
Winnie CaerlyOn used to run over every
second evening to read to me and play for
me-poor little thing Madam Vivian re-
marked, late one cold dark evening in
February.
She was slipping the favorite green tea
from her ~favorite cup OF pale buff and
gold evening china, and with jewelled fin
gers, dimplcd more deeply but less white.
ly fair than OF yore, daintily crumbling-
after her usual f~ashion-the mere morsels
of cake: she sighed as She spoke, glancing
across the table at her Uis-d-Uis.
"Trewhella reads to you, does she not,
MADAME inquired the UiS-d-Uis carelessly.
"Trewhella!' said Madam, with ashrug.
Yes, sometimes. She has no notion of
meditation or expression, poor woman
A dcrntcr resort when my eyes ache, /
assure you, my dear. 1t is not much more
pleasure to me to listen to her reading
than it is for her to read. A woman of
her class, at forty-flve years Of age, has
long o~ut-grown the time when love-stories
and romances are interesting; still she
fancies it keeps up her dignity.
Her dignity!' echoed the Uis-d-Dts, with
a kind of leisurely scorn. what have
people of her class to do with dignity, /
wonder? You pay her wages to make her.
self useful and agreeable to you, Just as
You used to pay Winnie Caerlyon to make
herself useful and agreeable; and when
she ceased to do so you dismissed her, l
believe"
II never dismissed her." said Madam,
with peevish protest-"that is, not finally,
you know i meant to take her back-I
have said so dozens of times"
"Oh, yes-I KNOW" returned Madam's
vts-a-uis, the l%eisurely scorn glimmering
in a cold smile; land. whilst you were de.
liberating about the possibility of forgiv.
ing her heinous offences, she fed out OF the
country. The little fool, she should have
waited until you thought proper to re-
member her existence!'
''She should! cried Madam, sharply,
and it seemed defiantly, in the face of that
naughty hooking smile. "She should