The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1899-12-02
MONICA.
4 LOVE srolsY or MODERN DAYS.

III you are going out, Terence, yon may
as we'll &c at once says Miss Priscilla, with
dignity, pretending neither to hear nor see
iilns. Wherenlon Terence gladly departs.
@ on a%nntic," says Monica, slipping
down on a footstool close to Aunt Penelope,
anu leaning both her arms across the old
lady knee. 'siTho else will be therc?"
Yes, tell her everything, Priscilla says
MISS Penelope, smoothing the girls hair
softly, and feeling a strange thrill of ldeas-
urc In llerrheart as she notices the little con-
hqent gesture with which the girl nestles to
:lcr.
We'll, there will be her own guests, of
course, ! mean those staying with her, for
she alawys has her house full,'' says Miss
Priscilla, after 4 slight pause. being still
somewhat rlf1ed by 1crry's remarks. .sTi,e
t1tzgeralds will be there. of course. Bella
Is considered a very handsome girl. but I
don't think You willSlike her much.''
NO, no, she is not at all our Monica's
style says Miss Penelope, stroking the
pretty check near her with her mittened
hand. Yet she has a fine skim"
"Ay, and a fine temper under IT, or Pm Il
Dutclman,' sa..s Miss Priscilla. And she
Is more peculiar than handsome; but men
admire her, so acc say nothing
rs she tall?2 asks Monica, a~nxiously,
WHO is q little thin, herself, AID looks even
smaller tlan she really il because of her
slender, girlish figure. She wonders in q
vague, uncomfortable fashion whether
whether III st men like tall women best.
Tall? yes, and large in proportion; and
as for her manners" says Miss Priscilla, i'll
her severest tone, .in my opinion they are
! simply unhearablc. Modesty in my days
| ISl . a NJ 4 nc ~ we ~ ", ~ &, 49,, a.. 49, 1D.tIx|
Fitzgerald is ne.Ir content unless she has
every man in the room at her side, and good
ness alone knows what 1t is she says to
them. The way SHE sets her cap at that
poor boy R6nayne, Just because he has fall
min for that property, is quite revolting.'
And a mere lad, too" says Miss Pene-
.ope.
Monica draws q breath of relief. Perhaps
it Miss Fitzgerald likes Mr.. Ronayne she
will not care to practice her destinations up
on-any other man.
GLOW old is she?!' she asks, feeling deep
ly Interested in the conversation.
She says she is twenty-four,'' says Miss
Priscilla, with all eloquent sniff. There Is
nothing easier to say than that. l monstb be
uncharitable, my dear Penelope, you
needn't look at me like that, but this |
must say, she looks every hour CT eigllt.and-
twenty.'
Her mother ought TO know says Miss
Penelope.
sshe ought, indeed grimly. "But as
from the way she dresses we may reason
ably conclude she thinks herself nineteen, /
suppose she has lost her memory on all
points"
Her father, Ohio Fitzgerald, was the
sahne,'' says Miss Penelope, reilectiveiy.
lie never could bear the idea of age. He
was one who saw nothing honorable In 1t.
Gray hairs with him were a crime.
$50 he used to dye them" says Miss 1'ris-
ella, maliciousiy; ''and when he got warm
the dye used to melt, and unknown to him)
run all down his cheek"
oh, Priscilla, how you remember things!
Dear, dear, l think see him now" says
Miss Penelope. And hcrb the twoold ladies',
overcome by this comical recollection, laugh
until the tears RIM down their faces. Moni-
ca joins in from sheer sympathy; but Kit,
who Is sitting in tile cmhrasure of a distant
window, and who has Nccn strangely silent
ever since the invitation came from Aghy-
ohillbeg, maintains 4 stern gravity.
Poor man. says Miss Penelope, wiping
her eyes, Il shall never forget the night
your sweet mother, MY dear Monica, most
nnsn!entionaliy offended him about the dia-
mond-yoa recolleet, Priscilla? Tell Moni-
ca ofit.''
"He always wore n huge diamond RIM un-
on his little finger, y says Miss Priscilla, adj
dressing Monica, "of which, he was very
proud. He was at This time about lfty-thrpc,
but used to pose as Il man of tiiirty-nine.
One evening showing The ring to your moth
er then Quite a girl, lie said to her, in lis
stilted w;s;;, This jewel has been in or
family for fifty years All. did YOU buy it,
Mr.. Fitzgerald" asks your mother, in her
sweet innocent way. lIa, ha, ha!'laughs
Miss Priscilla, you should have seen his
face. 1t was y picture! anil lust when he
was trying to make himself agreeable to
-omp poor mother, and acting as IL he was a
outhful beau Of twenty-five, Or ut least rs
young as the best OF u.s.
"That wa like mother" says Monica, in
a low tone. She always knew where to
touch people,
'.Oh, no, my dear, not at alllikc her. says.
Miss Penelope, hastily. 'S,e didn't 1aau1,
it, you must understand: she was the very
soul Of sweetness, and would not willingly
affront any one for the world"
For Just an instant Monica lifts her eyes
aid gazes earnestly at her aunt: but the old
face is so earnest AMI sincere that with q
faint sigh she lowers her eyes again, and
makes no further remark.
After that he married his cousins wife,
q widow with ono child, this girl Bella,''
says Miss Priscilla, still FIJI Of reminis-
cences, as old people will lie. IA most nn-
pleasant person l thought her, though She
was considered quite a belle in those days"
"She always appeared to me such II silly
woman says Miss Penelope.
"She is worse than that nnw,n says Miss
Priscilla, who seems specially hard on tile
Fitzgera!ds. .'Shnisa shocking old woman
with a nose like Il ilowcr-pot. 1won't say
she drinks, my dear Penelope, because I
know yon would object to it; but l hear she
does, and certainly her nose is herbctrayer."
DO You remember say: Miss Penelope,
'how anxious She once was to marry George
Desn.ondT' This slp says in n very low
tone.
yes, remember The bare mention of
her cnelnN's name Inns sent n flush Of crim-
son into Miss Priscilll's checks. 'sl'nt lie
never bestowed n thought upon her
"Oh, no, never SAYS Miss Penelope, after
which boin the Misses Blake grow silent
and seem to be slowly sinking Into the lanl
of reveric.
But Monica, having heard The 'cncmy's
name" mentioned, becomes filled with u de-
termination 10 sift the mystery connected
with him, now, 10 the end.
Aunt Priscilla" she says, softly, looking
at her will, grave eyes across Miss Pcne-
lope's knees, it'll INC. now, why Mr.. Des-
mond is our enemy.
'oh, not asou, 7 says Miss Penelope, nerv-
ously.
Yes, now, please, says Monica, With
ever-ilcreasing gravity.
ut may all be said inn faw words, IMoni-
ca" says Miss Priscilla, slowly. And what
| / have to&sny affects Won. my flpor even