The record-union., 1899-10-22

a hard time with that rough woman
III that great barn full of paupers. We
have made ourselves out perfect Van
derbilts, to keep her quiet; but to-day
she would not be pacified and after
nearly crying herself sick, wrote to the
select men. Before she sent the letter
however she thought of this dress.
The idea of it came as a sort of re-
prieVe. If she provided my graduating
dress. she might venture to stay a lit !.
tie longer. II not, she is going at once
You see why I would like to wear the
dress; and besides, a few dollars saved
is really an objec4 with us: still. those
dreadful roses-do you think rscver.
ever can?"
The roses were dreadful. / almost
doubted Mrs. Kemptons skill in their
behalf. and pitied the girl. shrinking
with all her heart from mortifvina
ordeal, but I knew there was only one
answer to her question.
Yes, my dear" said /, 81 think YOU
can and will. 1t takes a deal of pluck
to have tooth out, you know. but the
sharp, relieving pain is far easier TO
bear than weeks of dull, wearing an
gulsh. 1t is going to take real grit to
wear that fiowered dress, but the dis
comfort of an hour is not to he com
pared to the remorse of a lifetime"
Just what mother told me-" said
Dolly, bundling up her unwelcome pos
session.
l did not see the dress again. but I
heard deal about it before the i'm
portant day arrived. l wanted TO ex-
plain matters. but Dolly positively for
bade anything of the kind. and so her
lowered gown was regarded by some
as a necessary concession to poverty,
by others as sign Of open insubordina-
ton against the white dress rule.
Graduation day dawned bright and
clear. The church was crowded The
expected Governor arrived in excellent
season, bringing with him a visiting
Senator and everything seemed har-
monioGs with the exception of one rosy
looking dress among a half dozen white
ones.
The exercises passed off with what
might be termed great eclat" The
young ladies We're graceful and win
ming; their parts we'll prepared, their
enunciation clear and distinct The
young gentlemen were less awkward
than usual under such circumstances.
The pink dress was so modernized that
it could not be called conspicuous; still
| saw the consciousness of it's vivid
roses stamped on the flushed cheeks of
it's wearer when she stepped forward
to read her essay
1t was a very unambitious effort,
simply a prose version Of the story of
Evangeline. Yet 1 saw with surprise
that Senator Borden. a scholar as We'll
as politician, gave the short reading
the most profound and marked atten-
ton
After the exercises the eminent visit
ors held an informal reception, shak-
ing hands with every one, and good
naturedly giving their autographs to all
petitioners. Dolly, however, took no
part in this bit of impromptu testify
ity, but, anxious to divest herself of
her obnoxious fnery, hurried at once
from the church.
When the crowd had nearly dispersed
Senator Borden surprised me by ask
ing, with an expression of real inter-
est, for the young lady in pink. 1 told
him her name, and volunteered the in
formation that she had gone directly
home.
II am sorry" said he. 'I wanted to
meet her Her face, her voice, her ges-
lures, all seemed wonderfully famil-
lar. I can not place the resemblance.
but it moved me strangely. Her name
tells me nothing, and yet her face, her
Il r.-sf
took me back half century. 'Ah!"
with a sudden start. Il have it now:
1t was my. sister she recalled. She
wore just such a rosy gown the last
time l ever saw her, Poor Marty! Par
don me, Miss Deacon, but do you know
anything of her family history? The
resemblance may be purely acciden-
tal but it interests me-
Something of his interest had COM
municated itself to me, with his vOlun-
tary exclamation of Poor Marty" the
girl who wore just such a rosy gown
the last time he ever saw her.
''Mr. Borden" said 1 eagerly, might
it not have been the noticeable dress,
instead of the girls personality, that
impressed you? Forty years ago it be-
longed to Martha Paget was, in fact,
her wedding gown"
Martha Pagetn' cried he, that was
my sisters name. She was older than
l, and very beautiful, but she dis
obeyed my father. He never forgave
her, and while he lived 1 never heard
her name mentioned. Since his death
I have searched for her long and un
availingly."
Il think your search is ended" said
I, "and that you will find her living
with Mrs. Kempton in this village"
us it far from here? Would you
show me the way?" questioned he ca
gerly; and the next moment we were
hurrying down the broad elm-shaded
street
AS we neared the Kempton cottage
saw Mrs. Paget sitting on the tiny vine
wreathed piazza. Her soft white hair
shone in the sunlight; her pain dis
torted hands lay idly on her lap; her
cotton gown and stiffiy starched apron
were clean and speckless; but her face,
sorrow scanned and time-defaced, bore
no trace of bloom or beauty.
And yet said my companion, SEEM
ing to divine my thoughts. sit is Marty
herself; the very image of our mother
as 1 saw her last" He went swiftly up
the little graveled path. his face grow
ing visibly paler as he walked.
Just in front of her he stopped, and
for moments space no word passed
between them. Then the woman arose,
her worn face working, her faded eyes
frightening, her hands appealingly ex-
tended.
Father" she cried, father, forgive
metz