Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1898-06-04
Tht Story Teller.
The PROMISE.
s.A PRISONER OF WAR;"

| NO TSuU again his
is the third time it has happened with
| in the half year. I'll 60 there myself
and get the money, or I'll know the
reason why n'
Mr.. Matthew Deane was in partic
ularly bad humor this raw December
morning. Everything had gone wrong
Stocks had fallen when they ought to
have risen-his clerk had tipped over
the inkstand on his special and pecu
liar heap of paper-the fire obstinately
refused to burn in the grate-in short
nothing went right, and Mr.. Deane
was consequently and correspondingly
cross.
"Jenkins ~
"Yes, sir !"
$50 to the Widow Clarkson's, and
tell ber shall be there in half an hour
and expect confdently-mind, Jen'
kins, confidently to receive that rent
money. Or else I shall feel myself
obliged to resort to extreme measures
You understand, jenkins ?"
"Certainly, SIR"
"Then don't stand there starin' like
an idiot" snarled Mr.. Deane, in sud.
den burst of irritation and jenkins
disappeared like shot.
Just half an hour afterwards, Mr.
Matthew Deane brushed the brown
hair just sprinkled with gray away
from his square yet not unkindly
brow putting on his fur-lined over
coat he walked forth into the chilly
winter air fully determined, fgurative'
ly, to annihilate the defaulting Widow
Clarkson.
1t was dwarfsh little red brick
house which appeared originally to
have aspired to two-storyhood lot, but
cramped by circumstances had settled
down into story and half; but the
windows shone like Brazilian pebbles
and the doorsteps were worn by much
securing. Neither of these circum.
stances, however, did Mr.. Deane re-
mark as he pulled the glittering brass
door knob, and strobe into Mrs. Clark
sons neat parlor.
There was small fire-very small
as if every lump of anthracite was
boarded, in the stove, and at table
with writing implements before her
sat young lady whom NJ. Deane al
once recognized as Mrs. Clarkson's
niece, Miss Olive Mellen. She was
not disagreeable to look upon, though
you would never have thought of class
ing her among the beauties, with shin
ing black hair, blue, loDg-lashed eyes,
and very pretty mouth, hiding teeth
like rice kernels, so white were they.
Miss Mellen rose with polite nod
which was grimly reciprocated by Mr.,
Deane.
II have called to see your aunt, Miss
Mellen."
II know it, sir, but as am aware OF
her timid temperament, | sent her
away. prefer to deal with you my
SELF"
Mr.. Deane started-the cool audaci-
ty of this damsel in gray, with scarlet
ribbons in her hair, rather astonished
him.
~ suppose the money is ready ?"
"No, sir, it is not"
"Then, Miss Olive, pardon me, !
must speak plainly, 1 shall send an Of
ficer here this afternoon to put val
uation the furniture, and"
"You will do nothing of the kind,
SIR"
Olives cheek had Redeemed and her
eyes flashed portentiously. Mr.. Deane
turned toward the door, but ere he
knew what she was doing, Olive had
walked quietly across the room, locked
the door, and taken out the key-then
she resumed her seat.
"What does this mean ?" calculated
the astonished "prisoner of war;"
"It means, sir, that you will now be
obliged to reconsider the question, "
said Olive.
"Obliged ?"
"Yes-you will hardly jump out OF
the window, and there is no other
method of egress unless you choose to
20 up the chimney. Now, then, Mr..
Deane, will you tell me if you-a
Christian man in the Nineteenth GEN.
tury-intend to sell poor widows
furniture, because she is not able to
pay your rent? Listen, sir"
Mr.. Deane had opened his mouth to
demonstrate, but Olive enforced her
words with a very emphatic little
stamp of the foot, and he was, as it
were, stricken dumb.
"You are what the world calls a
rich man, Mr.. Deane. You own rows
of houses, piles of bank stock, railroad
shares, bonds and mortgages-who
knows what? My aunt has nothing
l support her by copying. Now, if
this case be carried into court of
law, my poor ailing aunt will be a
suferer-you would emerge unscathed
and profting. You are not bad man,
Mr.. Deane; you have a great many
noble qualities, and 1 like you for
them"
She paused an instant, and looked
intently and gravely at Mr.. Deane.
The color rose to his cheek-it was
not disagreeable to be told by pretty
young girl that she liked him, on any
terms, yet she had INDUCED in pretty